#i think i'm taking elements of both pre- and post-crisis here and just. smacking them with a hammer until they fit

[empressofthelibrary]

October prompts #24 for hawk characters of your choice

Fog, huh? I think I'll grab Charley for this one... Leaning mostly on his pre-Crisis backstory, and picking up a bit of worldbuilding from Hawkworld that's been driving me nuts.

---

Charley snapped awake, shoving himself up from the stone. His throat burned, the bite of the wire fresh as he gasped for air. He scrambled to his knees, desperate to fill his hungry lungs. His hands, of their own accord, ripped the helm from his head and threw it aside. It skittered on the stone, clanking as it vanished.

But as the adrenaline faded and his mind cleared, Charley realized something.

"...Garth? Garth, where are you?" He pulled himself to his feet, looking around. A dense fog had rolled in, so thick that Charley could barely see his hand in front of his face. "Garth! Oh, god, dude, you can't be dead. Please, answer me!" He took a slow step forward. There had been a cliff's edge around here somewhere. "Garth!"

Where the hell had this fog come from, anyway? It had been a clear, sunny day just a moment ago, before the Wildebeest's attack had driven him unconscious.

Wildebeest... Charley whirled, shoulders tensing. He'd always had sharp eyes and good ears for a human, but those talents only went so far. And this fog is heavy enough even Superman'd have trouble with it, he thought to himself.

"Where are you," he called. "C'mon out, you damned coward!"

"Bold words, little warrior," a voice spoke behind him. "Though I wonder who you speak to. I know it cannot be me."

Charley spun around again, fists raised, ready to fight this new threat. A shape began to emerge from the mist, a winged humanoid silhouette. As she approached, she raised one arm, and the lantern she held began to glow a brilliant white. Charley held up his hands, squinting in the sudden light. But once the spots cleared, he could see this strange woman.

She was tall, broad-shouldered and muscular. Two tall black wings emerged from her shoulderblades, silver claws pointing up at the second joint. Two more, he realized, wrapped around her hips, over a skirt of black leather and armored plates. She wore a breastplate of shining silver, high at the neck, over a shirt of dark chainmail. Silver bracers covered her wrists, and the hilt of a sword peeked out from between her higher wings. Her hair was jet-black, shot through with silver, held back from her face by a winged headpiece that could only be described as a crown. She smiled, gentle, and Charley could see the laugh-lines and crows-feet that marked her face. But her eyes -- Her eyes were windows into the infinite, the dark void of space, swirled with stars and galaxies.

"Who... Who are you," Charley whispered. His throat still ached, but his voice would have been hushed anyway. Something about this woman felt powerful, impossible. Standing in her presence, Charley felt like the scared, awestruck child who had been left to explore the Watchtower, a few years and a whole lifetime ago.

The woman laughed. "Have my adoptive children forgotten me so quickly? Did your fathers and mothers not teach you of Mar Rhigan, little warrior?" She shook her head. "No matter, no matter. You've fallen in battle, in the defense of your friend. There is no more noble end." She held out her free hand. "Come! You'll have a seat at my table, and you'll dwell in my lands in peace."

"Wait, what?" Charley looked around. "I -- Are you saying I'm dead? I can't -- I'm not dead, that's ridiculous." He turned, cupping his hands around his mouth. "Okay, Donna, this has gone far enough. I'm sorry about the party, I was stupid. You guys can come out now! Garth? Lillith?"

Mar Rhigan's brow furrowed. "Ah. Of course. You are so young -- Forgive me, you all look like babies to me." She stepped forward, cupping Charley's cheek to turn him towards her. "You have died, little one. And you have earned the rest of all Thanagarian warriors."

Charley pushed her hand away. "What are you talking about?! I'm not Thanagarian, I'm as human as the next guy."

Mar Rhigan shook her head. "If that were true, it would not have been me who came to collect you." She frowned, then, tilting her head to the side. "But you... You are not one of mine, are you? You did not know me. And you do not embrace the reward you've earned."

"Reward?" Charley was near hysterics. "What reward is there in being dead?! For god's sakes, I'm barely old enough to drink!" Legally, anyway. "I can't -- I can't be dead, damnit. I still have so much of my life to live!"

Mar Rhigan crossed one arm over her torso, holding the other as she rested her chin in her hand. The lantern floated beside her. "Strange... You are dead, little warrior, make no mistake. But..." She trailed off, lifting her head to look at something past Charley's shoulder. "Ah. Perhaps I am wrong, in that at least." She smiled again, and the lantern's glow grew brighter. Then brighter, and brighter still, until it was blinding.

Charley covered his eyes, turning away, as the world turned white.

"...Son? Charley?" Arms hooked beneath Charley's back and knees, lifting him away from the stone. "Ch'al, son, please, please wake up..."

Charley dragged his eyes open, peering up at his father's face. "...Dad?" The word rasped against his throat, and he winced in pain.

Fel Andar sighed, relieved, and pressed his forehead to his son's. "Shh, it's okay. Let me get you aboard the ship, I'll get you fixed up."