[Third Person's PoV]
"I see…" Lara-El murmured, her voice soft and tinged with sorrow. Her expression, though merely a projection, carried the weight of deep melancholy. "You have not had it easy, my child. You are so very young, and yet it seems the burdens of the world already rest so heavily upon your shoulders."
Clark gave a casual shrug, trying to mask the turmoil behind a mask of indifference. "Like I said, I'm fine—for the most part. A little mental anguish here and there, but totally fine."
The holographic image of Lara-El shimmered, her form adjusting. The towering projection diminished to a more human scale, reshaping itself until she appeared as a full-bodied figure, lifelike in its detail. She stepped forward with graceful movements, then knelt in front of Clark. Her transparent hands reached out, passing through him, but the gesture mimicked that of a mother pulling her son into a warm embrace.
"I may not be able to offer you the physical comfort you need," she said gently, her voice almost a whisper, "but if even a fragment of my presence and wisdom can ease the storms within your heart or mind—either now or in the days ahead—then let me give you that peace."
Though she was only a hologram, constructed from the radiant crystals of the Sunstone, Lara-El radiated a curious, gentle warmth—something not quite real, yet somehow deeply comforting.
"Thanks… I guess," Clark mumbled, his posture stiff. Emotional vulnerability made him uncomfortable, and he squirmed under the weight of it.
Lara-El rose and smiled softly. "Come now, walk with me. Sometimes, a little movement and a quiet conversation can clear the fog from our thoughts. I want you to share with me anything that has been weighing on your mind as of late. Perhaps I could be of some assistance" With a graceful turn, she began to walk slowly through the glowing interior of the Kryptonian chamber. Clark sighed and followed, his loyal dog Krypto trotting silently beside him.
"I guess I'm just… uncertain," Clark said, jamming his hands deep into the pockets of his sweater. "About the future. About my future. It feels like everything's already been decided for me, like I'm on rails heading toward something I never chose. I've got all these powers, all this potential, but somehow, I still feel powerless. Trapped."
He wasn't sure why he was pouring his soul out to a projection of his mother—a woman he had never truly known—but there was something in her presence that invited honesty. Maybe it was the simulated warmth, or the fragments of memories he didn't know he had from infancy, or maybe it was because she wasn't real. She couldn't judge him—not truly. And that made it easier to be vulnerable.
"If your fate and your future are already known to you," Lara-El said thoughtfully, glancing back at him, "then why do you struggle against them?"
Clark blinked, momentarily stunned. "Wha—? Because that's not the future I want!" he exclaimed, frustration bleeding into his voice. "What kind of question is that? I didn't choose it. It's not the path I see myself on. It's not me."
"Then tell me, my son," she said softly. "What path do you see for yourself? What kind of future do you desire?"
Clark's steps slowed as he considered the question, his eyes fixed on the ground. "That's the problem… I don't know. I really don't. I'm stuck between wanting a quiet life—something peaceful and normal—and wanting to leap headfirst into something bigger, something grand and adventurous. But whatever it is… I just don't want to feel chained to it. I don't want to live out a destiny I had no say in."
Lara-El nodded slowly, the understanding in her expression deep and maternal. "Then tell me this," she asked gently. "What is this future you fear so much—the one you're fighting so desperately to avoid?"
Clark's jaw tightened. "I'm not afraid of it," he growled, eyes flashing with irritation. "I never said I was." His defiant gaze faltered, softening as it drifted downward. He tugged his hoodie up over his head, as if trying to retreat into himself.
"…The future of a savior," he muttered at last. His voice was barely audible, burdened with the weight of expectation.
"I see… then may I ask, what have you done to prevent it?" Lara-El asked gently, her voice calm but firm.
Clark blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"You said you feel trapped by your fate, that the future laid out for you isn't the one you want. So I ask again, what have you done to change it?" Her gaze settled on him—curious, patient, but piercing.
Clark opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. His eyes flicked to the ground. Words formed in his mind, but none of them felt right. He wanted to say he tried to stop caring. He wanted to say he ignored it, that he buried it deep and hoped it would disappear. But even to him, that answer felt hollow. Weak.
Lara-El observed him quietly for a moment, then smiled faintly. "Kal-El, do you want to know how all of this sounds to me? This talk of unwanted futures and unchosen fates?"
Clark gave a small, reluctant nod.
"It sounds like the lament of a child," she said, her voice neither harsh nor mocking, merely honest. "And that is not meant as an insult. You are a child, after all, and children cry out when they are lost or overwhelmed. It is natural. But as your mother—even in this artificial form—I would be failing you if I didn't speak truthfully."
She began to pace slowly, her holographic form drifting with graceful weightlessness. "All I've heard from you is indecision. You speak of confusion, of not knowing what you want, of fearing being tied down by a future you never asked for. And that's perfectly understandable. But what I do not understand, Kal-El, is why you are not doing anything to ensure that future never becomes your reality."
Clark remained silent. He didn't have an answer—at least not one he was proud of.
"The truth is, people fear their futures not because they know what lies ahead, but because they don't," she continued. "It's the unknown that terrifies us. The unpredictability. The weight of possibility. And I suspect, deep down, you're no different. You don't fear the idea of being a savior because it's 'wrong'—you fear it because you believe you're not ready. You think you're not strong enough. That you're not worthy enough."
Clark bit his lip hard, drawing blood. His fists clenched inside the sleeves of his sweater. "I hear what you're saying," he muttered. "I do. But it still feels like I don't have a choice. It feels like no matter what I do, I'm being funneled down this path."
Beside him, Krypto whimpered softly, sensing his distress. The dog nudged Clark's hand with his nose. Clark exhaled shakily and ran his fingers through Krypto's fur, finding a momentary sense of calm.
"You yourself admitted it," Lara-El said, kneeling again to meet his eyes. "You don't have a way to fight it. But you can't run forever, Kal-El. Eventually, that future will catch up to you. And it won't wait until you're ready. So my advice—perhaps the only advice I can truly offer you—is to prepare. Prepare yourself, so that when it comes… you won't be helpless."
Clark kept his head down. He didn't respond, but she could see the thoughts turning in his mind.
She leaned closer, her voice softer now. "Kal-El, you are not as helpless as you believe. Inside you lies something extraordinary."
She placed a hand over his chest—not physically, but in the same spot where his heart beat. The light of the Sunstone glowed faintly at her touch. "You carry within you all of Krypton's hopes… its dreams… its very essence. And I'm not speaking metaphorically. I mean it quite literally. You possess the Codex—the genetic legacy of our entire civilization. Every scientist, every artist, every philosopher, warrior, and thinker—what they were, what they could have been—it all lives within you."
Clark was quiet as he let his mother talk, he knows about the Codex, he has seen it in his memories.
"You have the capacity to become more than just a symbol," she said, her voice full of reverence. "You can be an architect of your own destiny. The future that frightens you… the one you resist… is small compared to the infinite potential within you. But that potential means nothing if you don't act. If you don't take steps to shape your own path."
She stood then, turning back to lead the way once more, her holographic robes trailing behind her like mist. "You have the tools, Kal-El. The strength, the wisdom, the power. But in the end… the choice to use them is yours."
Clark stood quietly for a moment, Krypto nudging at his leg. His hoodie hung low over his eyes, concealing his expression. But deep within, a flicker of something stirred—something heavy, but no longer as paralyzing.
He had begrudgingly came to a decision a choice he couldn't escape from if he wanted to find peace in his life.
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