On the dock, Hippolyta stood frozen long after the ship had disappeared, her hand still raised as if reaching for a daughter who was no longer there. The assembled Amazons gradually dispersed, many still weeping, until the queen stood alone on the pier, staring at the empty horizon where her greatest treasure had vanished.
When the last of her people had gone, when only the sound of waves against stone remained, Hippolyta finally allowed herself to collapse. Her knees hit the marble pier as she looked up at the star filled sky, her voice breaking as she spoke words she had never dared utter aloud.
"Zeus," she whispered, her voice cracking with desperation. "I know you are gone. I know the gods have fallen silent. But if there is any part of you that still exists, any echo of what we once shared... please. Please hear me."
Tears streamed down her face as she remembered those nights three centuries ago when she had felt the presence of the King of Gods, when he had come to her not as a conqueror but as a lover, gentle and kind in ways that had surprised them both. She remembered the warmth of his touch, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were the most precious thing in all creation.
"She is your daughter too," Hippolyta sobbed, pressing her hands to her heart. "Our daughter. The greatest gift either of us could ever have given the world. She has your strength, your nobility, your courage. But she also has your compassion, the part of you that few ever saw."
She thought of Diana as a child, so curious and bright, asking endless questions about the world beyond their shores. Diana as a young woman, training with Antiope, her face shining with determination. Diana tonight, standing in armor that made her look like a goddess of war, ready to face whatever darkness awaited.
"I have loved her every day of her life," Hippolyta whispered to the silent stars. "From the moment you blessed me with her, she has been the light of my existence. I taught her to be brave, to stand for justice, to protect those who cannot protect themselves. But now I send her into a world that will try to break her, and I am so afraid."
Her voice broke completely as the weight of her fear crashed over her. "If any power remains to you, if love can reach beyond death itself, watch over her. Protect our daughter. Guide her steps and guard her heart. Let her remember that she is loved, that she carries the best of both our worlds within her."
The stars offered no answer, but somehow Hippolyta felt a warmth touch her heart, a whisper of the love they had shared and the miracle it had created. Diana was more than just an Amazon princess. She was hope itself, born of divine love and mortal devotion, sent into the world when it needed her most.
"Bring her home to me," Hippolyta whispered one last time. "Whatever else happens, bring our daughter home."
The ship sliced through the dark Mediterranean waters as Themyscira vanished into the night mists behind them. Diana held the bow rail, staring at a horizon she'd never seen before. Salt spray hit her face, tasting different from home—wilder somehow, full of possibilities and danger.
Mala walked up beside her. "Regrets?" she asked, leaning against the rail.
"About leaving?" Diana shook her head. "No. But I can't stop thinking about Mother's face when we pulled away." Her hand drifted to the Godkiller's hilt. "In seventeen centuries, I'd never seen her cry. Not once."
"She loves you more than life itself," Mala said. "That's why letting you go nearly killed her."
"Which is exactly why I had to go." Diana's voice got steadier. "If I stayed safe while the world burned, what kind of love would that be? What kind of daughter?"
Steve came over, his pilot instincts checking the wind even while his mind worked through everything he'd seen. "That send-off," he said quietly. "Your mother, all those people singing... I've watched soldiers ship out before, but that was something else."
"What did you see?" Diana asked.
Steve took his time answering. "Love," he said finally. "Not just family love, but the kind that understands sacrifice. People who know sometimes you have to lose what matters most to save what matters to everyone."
Diana felt something click into place. "That's really what we're fighting for. Not land or victory or even survival. We fight for the right to love without fear, to hope when everything looks hopeless, to believe things can get better."
"Your island taught you that," Steve said.
"My island prepared me," Diana corrected. "This world's going to teach me the rest."
The Mediterranean stretched out black and endless, carrying them toward cities and wars Diana had only read about. Out there somewhere, people were dying in a conflict that threatened everything. Out there, evil was spreading through weapons that could erase existence itself.
But out there were also people like Steve Trevor, who'd risk his life for strangers. People like the Captain Rogers he'd told her about, wasted in the wrong role. Soldiers who'd choose duty over safety, hope over despair.
"I used to think courage meant not being scared," Diana said, watching stars reflect on the dark water. "Mother set me straight. She said courage is being scared and doing the right thing anyway."
"Scared now?" Mala asked.
Diana thought about it. "Yes," she said. "But not of dying or losing or even facing Ares." She looked at her companions. "I'm scared of becoming someone Mother wouldn't know. Of letting this war turn me into something that would break her heart."
"Then don't let it," Steve said simply. "Hold onto who you are, and maybe remind the rest of us who we should be."
Wind filled the sails, pushing them faster toward whatever waited ahead. Behind them, Themyscira had disappeared completely, protected again by divine mists. Ahead lay everything unknown, danger, destiny, and a war that might determine the fate of both worlds.
Diana stood straighter, feeling the Godkiller's weight at her side and her mother's love in her heart. For seventeen centuries she'd been Diana of Themyscira, princess of paradise, student of ancient ways. Now she'd become something new.
"Come on then," she said, her voice carrying across the dark water. "Let's go save the world."
—
Atlantis, Royal Palace - October 26, 1943
Prince Orion of Atlantis pressed his forehead against the cool crystal of his chamber window, watching the eternal dance of bioluminescent creatures in the deep waters beyond. At thirty years old, he was young by royal standards, yet the weight of leadership already rested heavily on his shoulders. The morning current carried with it the scent of kelp gardens and the distant song of migrating whales, but beneath that familiar symphony, Orion detected something else: the barely perceptible vibrations of warships moving through distant waters, their unnatural rhythms disrupting the ocean's natural harmony.
"Another sleepless night, my friend?"
Orion turned to find Nereon floating in the chamber's entrance, his gills filtering water with the steady rhythm of one born to the depths. Despite being only a few years younger than Orion, Nereon possessed a wisdom that came from growing up in the borderlands between kingdoms, where political currents ran as treacherous as any whirlpool.
"The dreams again," Orion admitted, gesturing for his aide to enter properly. "Fire raining from the sky, the water itself burning with unnatural light. And always that sound. Metal grinding against metal, like the very bones of the earth screaming."
Nereon's expression grew troubled. Throughout their friendship, he'd learned to take Orion's visions seriously. The prince's prophetic dreams had prevented two border skirmishes and warned of the thermal vent collapse that had threatened the Deep Realm settlements five years ago.
"The surface dwellers' conflict grows worse," Nereon observed, settling into the coral chair that had grown specifically to accommodate visitors to the prince's chambers. "Yesterday's reports speak of entire cities burning, ships spewing poison into our waters as they sink, and strange new vessels that move without sails or engines. Our scouts describe weapons that leave no bodies behind, only empty water where ships once floated."
Orion nodded grimly. For months now, the escalating surface war had been poisoning his sleep with increasingly vivid nightmares. "Have the border scouts returned?"
"That's why I'm here." Nereon's tone shifted to the formal cadence required for official business. "Your father requests your immediate presence in the Council Chamber. All the kingdom rulers have answered his summons."
The weight of those words settled into Orion's chest like a stone. A full gathering of the Ocean Kingdoms hadn't occurred in over twenty years. Whatever had prompted his father to call such a meeting, it meant the luxury of continued isolation was about to end.
"How long have they been in session?" Orion asked, already moving toward his armory.
"Three hours. And by all accounts, the debates have been spirited." Nereon's diplomatic phrasing couldn't quite mask his concern. "King Namor of Talokan arrived in full battle regalia, and Queen Nerissa of Xebel brought her entire war council."
Orion paused in reaching for his ceremonial trident. The Talokanil had never forgotten their people's traumatic origins, driven from the surface world by Spanish conquest and smallpox. Their king, Ch'ah Toh Almehen, who had taken the name Namor after a dying priest's curse, carried centuries of hatred for the surface world. If he was calling for war and Queen Nerissa was supporting him, then the careful balance his father had maintained was about to shatter.
"The others?"
"Queen Mera of the Fishermen's Kingdom advocates for caution, as expected. King Thane of the Deep Realm wants to seal all passages to the surface and wait for the surface dwellers to destroy themselves." Nereon hesitated. "Queen Serena of Lemuria suggests we relocate entirely to the deepest trenches, abandoning the upper waters altogether."
At the mention of Serena's name, something stirred in Orion's chest. The young Queen of Lemuria had assumed her throne only two years ago after her father's death, and their few diplomatic meetings had left him more affected than he cared to admit. Her wisdom belied her youth, and her beauty was legendary even among the ocean kingdoms.
"And King Pelagic of the Coral Throne?"
"Silent, but watchful. You know how he is. He'll wait to see which way the current flows before committing his people."
Orion finished securing his formal armor, each piece crafted from living coral and blessed by the priests of Poseidon. The weight felt heavier today, burdened with the knowledge that whatever decision emerged from the Council Chamber would shape the future of all ocean dwelling peoples.
The journey through the palace corridors gave Orion time to gather his thoughts. The walls pulsed with a gentle bioluminescence that responded to his emotional state, growing brighter as his determination crystallized. Servant fish scattered before their passage, their scales flashing messages to unseen recipients throughout the vast complex.
Guards from all the kingdoms lined the approach to the Council Chamber, a calculated reminder that this gathering represented the unified strength of the ocean realms. Orion recognized faces from his youth, warriors who had trained him in the arts of war and diplomacy. Their expressions today were uniformly grim.
The Chamber itself was a marvel of living architecture, grown rather than built over the course of centuries. Coral formations created natural seating arranged in concentric circles, while schools of phosphorescent fish provided shifting patterns of light that enhanced both acoustics and ambiance. At the chamber's heart, his father's throne rose like a crystalline mountain, its faceted surface reflecting the presence and power of the Ocean Master.
King Arnev III sat with the bearing of one who had ruled the seas for decades. At sixty-five, he was in his prime for an Atlantean ruler, his features holding the strength of command while his eyes carried the wisdom of experience. The Ocean Master's Trident lay across his knees, not merely a symbol of authority, but a weapon that could part the seas themselves.
Around him, the other rulers occupied positions that reflected both ancient protocol and current political realities. Orion's trained eye read the subtle signs of tension in their postures, the careful distances maintained between traditional allies and rivals.
Queen Mera of the Fishermen's Kingdom held a position of respect, her sleek scaled head catching the bioluminescent light as delicate gill slits along her neck fluttered with each breath. Her people had evolved to be closer to marine life, many bearing fish-like characteristics that allowed them to communicate with sea creatures. Despite being in her forties, she was considered one of the most elegant rulers in the oceans, her graceful movements and iridescent scales creating an almost hypnotic presence, though her kingdom's focus on art and philosophy over warfare sometimes made others underestimate her strategic mind.
King Namor of Talokan occupied a position that reflected both his people's considerable military might and their unique status within the confederation. At over four hundred years old, he was by far the eldest ruler present, his longevity a result of the vibranium-enhanced plant his ancestors had consumed. Unlike the other kingdoms, the Talokanil retained their surface-dwelling appearance, with Namor's distinctive pointed ears, golden skin, and most notably, the feathered wings on his ankles that marked him as their god-king. His dark eyes held centuries of pain and rage against the surface world.
Queen Nerissa of Xebel sat with the rigid posture of one prepared for war. In her thirties, she was known for her tactical brilliance and the fierce loyalty she commanded from her people. Her pale features and silver hair marked her as belonging to one of the oldest bloodlines in the oceans, and her violet eyes held an intelligence sharpened by years of political maneuvering. Xebel's relationship with Atlantis remained complex, valuable allies when their interests aligned, dangerous rivals when they diverged.
King Thane of the Deep Realm was an imposing figure even among the enhanced physiques of the ocean rulers. His massive frame spoke of adaptation to the crushing pressures of the abyssal depths, while his metallic skin could withstand temperatures and pressures that would destroy others. His kingdom controlled the vital mineral resources that powered much of Atlantean technology.
Queen Serena of Lemuria drew Orion's attention despite his efforts to remain diplomatic. At twenty-eight, she was the youngest ruler present, having inherited her throne when her father died in a mining accident. Her beauty was ethereal, with long flowing hair that shifted color from deep blue to silver depending on the light, and eyes like polished pearls. But it was her intelligence that had truly captured Orion's interest during their previous meetings. Lemuria had become known for its scholars and mystics, their libraries containing knowledge that predated even Atlantis.
King Pelagic of the Coral Throne represented the vast reef systems that served as nurseries for countless species. His people were master agriculturalists and bioengineers, capable of growing living cities and weapons from the raw materials of the sea itself. The intricate patterns of his ceremonial armor seemed to shift and change as he moved, a living artwork that spoke of his people's mastery over organic technology.
As Orion entered the chamber, the ongoing debate paused. All eyes turned to him, and he felt the weight of their expectations. His gaze briefly met Serena's, and he caught the slightest smile before she returned to her composed diplomatic expression.
"My son," King Arnev's voice carried the harmonic undertones that marked him as one of divine lineage. "Your counsel comes at a crucial moment. We have been discussing the situation along our borders."
Namor leaned forward aggressively, his ornate armor gleaming with jade and gold inlays that spoke of his people's surface world origins. "Discussing? We've been debating while the surface dwellers turn our realm into their battlefield!" His voice carried the weight of centuries. "How many more of our people must die before we act?"
"Your grief is understandable, Namor," Queen Mera replied with diplomatic precision, "but declaring war on the entire surface world would solve nothing. Their conflict is among themselves. We are not their intended target."
"Tell that to the pods of whales I found yesterday, their songs silenced forever by depth charges that were never meant for them," Namor shot back, his wings twitching with agitation. "Tell that to the coral cities blasted to rubble by weapons that disintegrate matter itself. Tell that to my warriors who suffocate on the oil that pours from their burning ships!"
King Thane's voice rumbled like an underwater earthquake. "The King of Talokan speaks truth about the destruction. My deep patrols report weapon signatures unlike anything in our histories. Energy discharges that boil water at the molecular level, explosions that leave perfectly spherical craters in the ocean floor." His massive hands clenched. "But his solution would bring far greater devastation upon all our peoples."
"What devastation could be worse than slow extinction?" Namor demanded, rising from his seat with fluid grace. "How long before their poison reaches the deepest cities? How long before weapons capable of boiling the sea itself are turned deliberately upon us?"
Queen Nerissa spoke for the first time, her voice carrying crystalline clarity. "The King of Talokan raises valid tactical concerns. Perhaps a limited demonstration of our capabilities would remind the surface dwellers that the oceans are not their property to abuse." Her pale fingers traced patterns on her throne's armrest. "A few coastal cities reduced to ruins, several fleets sent to the bottom. Enough to establish our power without triggering total war."
"And when they retaliate with weapons we don't understand?" Queen Serena interjected, her voice carrying a musical quality that made Orion's pulse quicken despite the gravity of the situation. "My scholars have been studying the energy signatures Thane mentioned. These weapons seem to draw power from sources beyond conventional understanding. Do we truly wish to provoke beings capable of such forces?"
Orion found himself studying Serena's profile as she spoke, noting the way her hair caught the bioluminescent light, the graceful gestures of her hands as she emphasized her points. He forced himself to focus on her words rather than her appearance.
King Pelagic finally spoke, his voice carrying the patient cadence of one who had spent decades cultivating delicate ecosystems. "My coral wrights report energy signatures that defy natural law. Devices that seem to bend reality itself." He fixed his gaze on each ruler in turn. "The surface dwellers are developing capabilities that threaten the very foundations of our world."
This revelation caused a stir throughout the chamber. For generations, the ocean kingdoms had maintained their independence through the simple fact that the surface world couldn't effectively challenge them in their own element. If that advantage was disappearing...
Orion stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate attention. Despite his youth, he had built a reputation as both a skilled warrior and thoughtful strategist during the recent border disputes.
"Honored rulers," he began, his voice carrying easily through the water-filled space, "I believe we're approaching this crisis from a fundamentally flawed perspective."
Namor's ancient eyes fixed on him with dangerous intensity. "And what perspective would that be, young Prince? That of one who has lived a mere three decades while I have watched four centuries of surface dweller cruelty?"
Orion met the challenge calmly, though steel entered his voice. "The perspective of one who understands that the ocean and surface world are not separate entities, but part of a single, interconnected system that we all depend upon for survival."
He moved to the chamber's center, where a living map of the world's oceans glowed with bioluminescent detail. "You speak of destroying surface civilization as though such an action would leave our realm untouched. But consider the consequences." His hand gestured to the currents that connected every ocean. "The surface world maintains atmospheric balances that regulate our water temperatures. Their agricultural runoff, properly managed, feeds the coastal ecosystems where much of our food originates."
"Pretty words," Namor said, though his tone carried less venom than before. "But they ignore the immediate reality that surface dwellers are actively destroying our world through their warfare and their reckless exploitation."
"Then we help them stop," Orion replied simply. "We make contact with their leaders, offer our assistance in ending their conflicts, and establish protocols that will protect both our realms from future damage."
The chamber erupted in voices as various rulers expressed their shock at this radical proposal. The idea of the ocean kingdoms openly revealing themselves to the surface world ran counter to generations of carefully maintained secrecy.
Queen Nerissa's laugh held no humor. "Impossible. The surface dwellers have proven repeatedly that they cannot coexist peacefully even among their own kind. They would see us as a new territory to conquer, new resources to exploit."
"History suggests otherwise," Orion countered, his passion evident. "There are records, fragments of ancient texts, references in their own mythologies that speak of cooperation between our peoples in ages past. The surface civilizations that achieved the greatest harmony often credited guidance from the sea."
Queen Serena leaned forward, her expression thoughtful, and Orion felt encouraged by her attention. "The prince raises an intriguing possibility. But the risks of exposure are enormous. Even if some surface leaders prove reasonable, others would inevitably see us as a threat to be eliminated."
"Your caution is wise, Your Majesty," Orion replied respectfully, his voice carrying conviction but not contradiction. "But we must weigh those risks against the consequences of continued isolation. How long before their weapons become powerful enough to threaten even the deepest cities? How long before their pollution renders large sections of our realm uninhabitable? Perhaps the greater risk lies in waiting until we have no choice but to act from a position of weakness."
Queen Serena nodded slowly, seeming to consider his words. "You make a compelling point, Prince. The question becomes not whether to act, but when and how."
King Arnev had remained silent throughout this exchange, but now he raised the Ocean Master's Trident, causing immediate silence throughout the chamber. The divine weapon pulsed with inner light, its power reflecting off the crystal walls.
"My son speaks wisdom," the High King said finally, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "But wisdom alone is insufficient when facing decisions that could determine the fate of our people. We require more complete information about these new weapons, about the surface world's current political divisions, about their capacity for reason versus their instinct for conquest."
He turned to address the full assembly. "I propose that we dispatch reconnaissance missions to gather intelligence on both the surface world's military capabilities and their leadership structures. Only with complete knowledge can we make an informed decision about our future course."
"And in the meantime?" Namor demanded, his frustration evident. "Do we simply endure their continued assault on our realm while they develop even more destructive weapons?"
"In the meantime," King Arnev replied with steel in his voice, "we prepare for all possibilities. Military preparations will continue, but discretely. Diplomatic protocols will be developed, but carefully. And we will ensure that our own defenses are capable of protecting our people regardless of what path we ultimately choose."
Before anyone could respond to this measured pronouncement, the chamber's massive doors burst open with a thunderous crash that sent shock waves through the water. A royal guard, her ceremonial armor scorched and her breathing labored from what must have been an impossibly fast journey from the outer territories, swam desperately toward the throne. Her bioluminescent rank insignia pulsed with the urgent crimson patterns reserved for matters of immediate threat to the realm.
The assembled rulers fell silent, understanding instinctively that no guard would dare interrupt a council of kings unless the very foundations of their world were at stake. To breach the sanctity of such a gathering without permission was an offense punishable by exile, yet this messenger had clearly deemed her news worth that risk.
"Forgive the grave interruption, Your Sacred Majesty," the guard gasped as she threw herself prostrate before the throne, her voice trembling with exhaustion and barely controlled panic. "But our long-range scouts report a surface vessel approaching our territorial boundaries. The ship bears the ancient symbols of Themyscira. The Amazons have emerged from their island sanctuary."
The silence that followed was so complete that the only sounds were the gentle movements of the phosphorescent fish and the distant whale songs echoing through the palace corridors. Then, as the full weight of the revelation settled upon them, the chamber erupted into shocked murmurs and whispered prayers to Poseidon.
King Arnev's knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the Ocean Master's Trident. "Amazons," he said, the word carrying millennia of inherited enmity. "After two thousand years of silence, they dare approach our realm."
Queen Nerissa leaned forward, her violet eyes gleaming with dangerous interest. "This cannot be coincidence. The daughters of Themyscira have remained hidden since the great schism. Why reveal themselves now?"
"The blood feud runs deeper than politics," rumbled King Thane, his massive frame tensing with old memories. "When Poseidon, our divine ancestor, and Athena contested for the patronage of the great surface city, it was Athena who claimed victory through trickery and mortal favor. The city bears her name to this day, a permanent reminder of our ancestor's humiliation. The shame of that defeat has burned in Atlantean hearts for millennia."
Namor's wings spread slightly as ancient rage stirred within him. "Though my people are adopted into your confederation, we too remember the insult," he said, his voice carrying the weight of centuries. "The Amazons are Athena's chosen champions, just as you are the children of Poseidon. In Talokan, we learned from the surface world's own legends that these warrior women have always served the goddess who cheated our patron deity. Their very existence is an affront to divine justice. Whatever brings them here, it cannot bode well for any of our realms."
Queen Serena's melodious voice cut through the growing tension. "While the historical grievances are real, we must consider what desperation would drive the Amazons to break their isolation. They guard their island sanctuary more jealously than we guard our deepest vaults."
The messenger, still prostrate and trembling, spoke again. "Your Majesty, if I may... there is more. Our scouts report the vessel carries only three occupants. Two appear to be Amazon warriors in full battle regalia, but the third..." She hesitated, as though the words themselves were difficult to believe.
"Speak," King Arnev commanded, his voice carrying the full authority of the Ocean Master.
"The third appears to be a man, Your Majesty. A surface-dwelling male in the company of Amazons. He shows no signs of being a prisoner, and the ship flies no distress signals."