The sky over the Dutton Ranch stretched wide and endless, painted in hues of deep orange as the Montana sun began its slow descent behind the towering mountains. It was the kind of serene, quiet evening that John Dutton had grown accustomed to—where the rhythm of the land was steady and dependable. But tonight, something felt different. There was an uneasiness in the air that made his skin prickle, a subtle tension that he couldn't quite shake.

John stood on the porch, his weathered hands gripping the railing, his gaze scanning the horizon. In the distance, the horses were restless in their stables, and the cattle had gathered near the fences in tight clusters as if they sensed something was amiss.

His youngest child, Kayce, barely a year old, was asleep inside, and his wife Evelyn was tending to Beth, their oldest daughter, who was now five years old and as wild as the land they lived on. Beth had inherited John's independent streak along with Evelyn's spirited nature, and it showed in the way she rode her pony with reckless abandon, her bright blonde hair flying in the wind as she refused to follow the rules.

"Beth!" John called out, watching as she galloped toward the edge of the property, far too close to the creek for his liking. "Don't go too far!"

Beth turned and gave him a mischievous grin before urging her pony faster, her laughter carried by the wind.

John sighed heavily, a mix of pride and exasperation filling his chest. He glanced back toward the stables where Evelyn was walking her own horse, her eyes tracking Beth with the practised patience of a mother who had long ago accepted her daughter's rebellious spirit.

"Keep an eye on her!" John called, his voice louder now.

Evelyn, her dark hair pulled back in a loose braid, waved back at him with a knowing smile. "I always do!"

John turned his attention back to the distant mountains, his brow furrowing as the sense of unease returned. The air felt charged, thick with a kind of energy that didn't belong. He could feel it deep in his bones—something was coming.

Beth's tiny hands gripped the reins of her pony, her eyes wide with the thrill of riding faster than her mother had warned her. At only five years old, Beth already craved the wild freedom the ranch offered, and she loved the feeling of wind against her face.

Behind her, Evelyn rode at a much slower pace, keeping a watchful eye on her daughter while also trying to keep her own horse calm. The animals seemed on edge today, and Evelyn wasn't sure why. Her horse kept tossing its head, and the usual peaceful ride felt heavier than it should have.

"Beth, slow down!" Evelyn called out, trying to mask the concern in her voice. But Beth, as always, didn't listen.

As Beth pushed her pony farther into the open field, a sudden roar split the sky. A brilliant flash of light erupted overhead, brighter than any lightning strike. The entire valley was bathed in an eerie white glow, and the sound was deafening—a violent crack that shook the ground.

Beth pulled her pony to a stop, her heart pounding. Her wide blue eyes looked up at the sky as a fiery streak blazed across the horizon, moving impossibly fast. She could feel the heat radiating from it even at a distance.

"What's that?" Beth muttered, her small voice trembling.

Evelyn galloped over to her daughter, her face pale as she looked up in horror. The fiery object tore through the sky and then, without warning, it struck the earth near the north pasture with a bone-rattling impact. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and both horses bucked in terror.

"Beth!" Evelyn screamed as her own horse reared violently. Beth's pony darted forward, panicked by the noise and shaking ground. But before Evelyn could grab hold of her daughter, her horse lurched again, sending Evelyn crashing to the ground.

She hit hard, the breath knocked from her lungs, and before she could scramble to her feet, her horse fell too, its massive body pinning her legs beneath its weight.

"Mommy!" Beth cried out, trying to steer her pony back to her mother, but the animal was too wild, too scared. Beth watched helplessly, her small body trembling with fear.

Evelyn gasped, trying to push the horse off, but it was too heavy. Her chest tightened as pain shot through her body, and she struggled to stay conscious. "Beth… get help!" she managed to choke out.

Across the ranch, John had already leapt into action, mounting his horse and riding toward the crash site as fast as the animal could carry him. His heart thundered in his chest as he saw the smoke rising from the north pasture, but then his focus shifted.

Beth's cries pierced through the chaos, and John's heart nearly stopped. He urged his horse faster, the world around him a blur of fear and panic. When he reached the field where Evelyn had fallen, the sight that greeted him was worse than he could have imagined.

Evelyn was pinned under her horse, her face pale and strained as she tried to breathe. Beth was sobbing a few feet away, her tiny body shaking with fear. But what stopped John in his tracks wasn't his wife or daughter—it was the boy standing in the middle of the smoke.

Barefoot, covered in ash, and no older than four years old, the boy stood motionless, his dark hair wild and his eyes wide with confusion. He wore strange, tattered clothes, and his small body trembled slightly as if sensing the danger around him.

Before John could process it, the boy moved faster than any child should be able to. In a blur of motion, he was at Evelyn's side, his small hands gripping the saddle of her fallen horse.

Beth's sobs grew quieter as she watched, her eyes wide in disbelief.

John barely had time to react as the boy summoned a strength that no child could possess. With a sharp breath and a trembling effort, the boy lifted the massive horse off Evelyn as if it weighed nothing. His tiny arms shook under the strain, but somehow, impossibly, he managed to pull the animal aside.

Evelyn gasped, her body freed from the weight, but she was too weak to speak. She lay on the ground, breathing shallowly as the boy knelt beside her, his eyes filled with concern.

John leapt off his horse, rushing toward his wife, but he couldn't take his eyes off the boy. Who was he? Where had he come from?

As John knelt beside Evelyn, checking her injuries, his eyes caught a glimpse of something metallic and unfamiliar just beyond the crash site. Rising smoke still billowed from the nearby wreckage, but what held his attention was a small ship, alien in its design, partially buried in the ground.

Beside the ship, an odd, octagonal key glinted in the fading sunlight, catching John's eye.

He stared at the strange scene before him, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The boy stood quietly nearby, his eyes filled with fear and confusion, watching John carefully. The ship, the key, and this child—none of it made sense. But whatever had happened here was beyond anything John could have prepared for.

The ride back to the ranch was slow and quiet. The boy, now seated in front of John on the horse, looked around at the unfamiliar world with wide, curious eyes. He didn't speak—at least not in a language they could understand—but there was something peaceful about his presence, as if the fear he had felt earlier was starting to fade.

Beth, now perched on her pony again, rode beside them, her eyes wide with curiosity as she watched the boy. "What's his name?" she asked, her young voice breaking the silence.

"Clark," John said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "His name is Clark now."

Beth seemed satisfied with that answer, though a million other questions probably swirled in her young mind. She looked at Clark, who glanced at her with a shy, uncertain smile. Despite the strange circumstances, there was something in Beth's gaze—an acceptance, maybe—that John couldn't help but notice.

"Is he going to stay with us?" Beth asked, her voice soft.

Evelyn smiled gently, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from Beth's face. "Yes, sweetheart. He's part of our family now."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. John knew that bringing Clark into their home would change everything, but as he looked at the boy—so young, so vulnerable—he knew it was the right choice. The world outside the ranch was full of dangers, and Clark would need all the protection they could offer.

The morning sun bathed the quiet town of Smallville in warmth, casting golden rays over the fields and homes. It was the perfect day, a day where nothing seemed amiss—until the first streak of light tore through the sky. The meteor shower descended like a fiery storm, burning through the atmosphere and crashing down onto the town below with explosive force.

Lana Lang, no older than three, sat in the back seat of her parents' car. They were driving down the main street, her father smiling as he chatted with her mother. Lana was laughing, her tiny hands clutching her favorite stuffed animal.

Then, in an instant, everything changed.

A meteor crashed directly in front of the car, the impact flipping the vehicle into the air like a toy. The world went silent for a second, then a loud explosion rang through the streets. Metal twisted, glass shattered, and the sky filled with smoke and fire. Lana's parents were killed instantly, their bodies crushed under the weight of the wreckage.

Lana, still strapped into her car seat, screamed as the flames from the meteors scorched the world around her. Tears streamed down her face, mixing with the soot and debris that rained from the sky. She couldn't understand what had happened. One moment, they were laughing, and the next, her parents were gone—taken from her by the falling stars.

Her cries echoed through the streets, a small, innocent voice lost amidst the chaos of the burning town.

On the outskirts of Smallville, Lex Luthor stood in the middle of a cornfield, his vibrant red hair catching the light of the afternoon sun. He was here on one of his father's tedious business trips, sent to oversee the new agricultural investment Lionel Luthor had acquired. Lex had always hated these trips—the fields felt foreign, the work beneath him.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, ready to call it a day when something caught his eye. Just beyond the tall stalks of corn, a figure was tied up to a wooden cross, his arms spread wide, his body slumped in exhaustion.

Lex approached cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. As he got closer, he realized it was Jeremy Creek, a local teenager. He was strung up like a scarecrow, his shirt ripped, his skin battered and bruised. Lex had heard of this ritual—every year, Smallville's football team would haze a freshman by tying them up in the cornfield, leaving them to the elements.

But something about this felt wrong. Jeremy's body hung limply, as if he hadn't just been abandoned as a prank—something far more sinister had happened.

Lex opened his mouth to shout for help, but before he could, the air around him ignited with a brilliant flash of light. A meteor crashed into the field just a few hundred yards away, the shockwave knocking Lex off his feet. He tumbled backward, the force of the blast sending him flying through the corn.

The world spun, the ground disappeared beneath him, and for a brief moment, Lex thought he was going to die.

He hit the dirt hard, the breath knocked from his lungs. His head throbbed, his vision blurry. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't obey. All he could see was fire—fire and smoke swallowing up the field around him.

Lex reached up, his fingers trembling as they brushed against his scalp. But something was wrong. His hair—his signature red hair—was gone. His fingers met nothing but smooth, bald skin. Panic surged through him as he realized what had happened. The meteors had done this to him, stripped him of his hair, his identity.

Moments later, Lionel Luthor's security team found him lying amidst the wreckage of the field. They rushed to his side, lifting his limp body into a stretcher. Lex didn't fight them. He barely spoke. All he could think about was the flash of light, the roar of the meteors, and the terrifying realization that his life would never be the same again.

By the time they reached the ranch house, the sun had dipped below the mountains, casting the land in shadows. John helped Evelyn down from the horse, his hands gentle as he guided her inside. Clark followed, his small feet shuffling across the porch as he took in the sights and sounds of the ranch.

Beth hopped down from her pony and stood beside Clark, her eyes wide with curiosity. "You can play with me," she said, her voice full of excitement. "I'll show you around."

Clark didn't understand the words, but he nodded, his expression softening at Beth's kindness.

Inside, the house was warm and welcoming, the scent of Evelyn's cooking still lingering in the air. John pulled out a chair for Clark at the dinner table, motioning for him to sit. Clark hesitated for a moment before climbing into the seat, his wide eyes scanning the room.

Evelyn placed a plate of food in front of him—simple ranch fare, something warm and hearty to fill his belly. Clark looked at the plate, then at Evelyn as if unsure of what to do. He mumbled something in a language they didn't understand, the words foreign and strange to their ears.

Evelyn knelt beside him, her voice gentle and soothing. "It's all right, Clark. You can eat."

Clark hesitated again, then with small, tentative movements, picked up a fork and began to eat. The Duttons watched him for a moment, a quiet understanding passing between them. They had taken in a child from who-knows-where, a child with unimaginable powers. But in that moment, he was just a boy—scared, hungry, and in need of a family.

John sat down at the table, his eyes never leaving Clark. "We're going to have to teach him English," he said quietly.

Evelyn nodded. "And a lot more than that."