THEMYSCIRA
"Follow him," Hippolyta said after a long, charged silence. Her voice was low, but there was no mistaking the command in it.
She did not understand why Atrius had chosen to leave—especially after exorcising the daemon that had nearly torn her island apart. He was still needed here. For the safety of Themyscira, she could not allow him to simply walk away. He had to deliver his end of the bargain.
"You heard what he said. I can't follow." Heracles shrugged, voice coarse and dismissive.
"Since when were you his mutt, that you have to obey his every word?" Hippolyta hissed, her sharp tone cutting like a blade.
Heracles only stared back at her, expression blank, unbothered by her insult.
"If you want him so badly, then go drag him back yourself. Stop acting as if I can't crush you whenever I please," he spat, distaste dripping from his words.
Without waiting for her response, he turned toward the temple's great doors. His heavy steps echoed as he walked into the unknown, his destination unspoken.
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In the great forests of Themyscira, where branches weaved together, a vast shadow moved between the trees.
Atrius.
Every footfall was a low, muted thud against the mossy earth. His colossal form cut through the wilderness, silent save for the groan of armored weight. He pressed onward, further from the Amazons, further from those who might pay for his presence with their lives.
The realization gnawed at him—every second spent among mortals was a risk. His presence alone could call forth corruption.
Once, he had planned to learn what he could from this land of women and venture outwards, perhaps, one day raise it before the Imperium's gaze. But that plan was ashes now. Solitude was his shield, and he would wear it once more.
Why am I capable of what the Dark Gods boast?
What have I become?
The whisper clawed at the corners of his mind.
The forest swallowed his massive figure. Too quiet. Too still. Even the birds dared not sing.
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The heavens were bright, blue and vast. Clouds drifted like pale continents across the dome of the world.
Then—
Whoooooom!
Something tore the sky open. An object screamed through the stratosphere, dropping at impossible speed. The air cracked under its passage, the sound of rupturing pressure waves like the roar of thunder given form.
Its surface was a patchwork of blackened alloys and golden latticework, runes etched deep into the metal. The hull glowed with the sear of atmospheric entry, plates rippling orange and red. A trail of fire split the heavens, a plume that fanned wide, stretching across the firmament.
At its tail, stabilizers fired in rhythmic bursts, streaks of blue flame snapping against the winds to steady the descent. The object was no simple craft—it was a lander, a beast of iron, its bulk large enough to eclipse the clouds around it.
The ocean rose up to meet it. For a moment, it seemed the lander would hammer down into the waves—but with a sudden shift, thrusters ignited. Jets of fire howled, the sea boiled, and the lander's massive weight leveled out. Its descent curved into acceleration. Like a spear, it carved across the water's surface, a great pressure wave exploding outward in its wake, leaving behind twin scars of displaced sea that raced toward distant shores.
Its destination, the city at the horizon.
Its origin, the stars above.
Hours earlier,
the earth had witnessed something it had only dreamed of in myths and fictions: alien craft blotting out the skies. Governments scrambled to contain the story, but the age of secrecy was gone.
The internet was ablaze. Streams, videos, frantic live broadcasts. For a moment, disbelief lingered—many wanted to dismiss them as fabrications. But no trick of editing could explain the sheer scale of the crafts. And no trick could erase the knowledge already ingrained in the public: a war was coming.
"Did you see that? Oh my God—I thought I was going to die!"
The voice was raw, quaking. A young woman sat on a stretcher, dirt streaking her clothes, shards of glass clinging to her hair. Her face was smeared with ash and soil, but rivers of tears had carved clean tracks down her cheeks.
Her phone trembled in her hand, camera pointed back at the chaos behind her.
A building still burned, black smoke coiling into the sky. Firemen struggled against walls of flame, their shouts drowned by the crackle of fire and the groan of collapsing beams. Police officers pushed back crowds, their voices hoarse, their hands shaking as they tried to keep civilians away from danger.
Bodies—some injured, some covered in dust—were carried out on makeshift stretchers. Children cried into the arms of strangers. Sirens wailed, overlapping and discordant.
The woman's voice wavered as she turned the camera toward herself again. "It—it came out of nowhere. That… that skull thing—it—it just floated in, and we…" She broke off, covering her mouth with her hand.
She had been inside the radio station when it happened.
The alien probe had entered without resistance. A floating horror, metallic and skeletal, its lenses glowing like baleful eyes. It ignored the terrified humans, gliding instead to the servers, invasive feelers spreading from its body to pierce machines.
They had hidden, paralyzed by fear, waiting for the killing blow. But it never came. The probe had taken what it wanted, then vanished into the sky.
But the humans' terror did not end there.
A military aircraft had fired upon the retreating probe. The missile missed. The probe dodged effortlessly. The warhead slammed into the station instead.
The upper floors survived. The lower floors collapsed into ruin.
Now, survivors staggered through smoke and debris. Some wept. Others wandered aimlessly, searching for loved ones who had not emerged.
And then—
Whoooosh!
Another object screamed across the sky, its thunder shaking shattered windows loose. People flinched, ducking instinctively. Panic spread like fire in dry grass.
Behind it, military jets streaked in pursuit, their engines deafening.
The crowd broke. People surged in every direction, a tidal wave of desperation. Officers shouted orders, but were drowned out by the cacophony of terrified voices. Some tripped, others were trampled. Mothers clutched children, men pulled at their friends' arms, strangers collided in the frantic crush of bodies.
Screams carried above the smoke.
The city was alive with chaos.