Warning from the Gods

Themyscira.

The night wind carried the salty tang of the open ocean past the towering stone columns.

Queen Hippolyta stood on the temple's highest terrace, her hands resting on the stone railing.

The sky was cloudless and thick with stars.

The Amazons knew every star.

From Orion to Andromeda, each one carried a legend of Olympus.

Tonight, the sea was behaving strangely.

Deep beneath the blue water, patches of dark red light glowed.

The glow rose and fell with the waves, illuminating the reefs near shore.

Seabirds circled low overhead, crying restlessly and refusing to return to their nests.

It was an echo from beyond the magical barrier.

The human world was undergoing some kind of upheaval. Its aftershocks had crossed the ocean and disturbed Themyscira's wards.

The ground began to tremble.

It was no earthquake. The shaking came from beneath the temple.

Hippolyta turned, gathered her long skirt, and hurried down the winding stone steps.

In the hall beneath the temple, eight bronze pillars so wide that three people could barely encircle one supported the domed ceiling.

At the center stood a massive slab of obsidian, five meters tall.

Ancient Greek spells covered its surface. It was the Oracle Stone.

Now the obsidian hummed with a rapid vibration.

Dust sifted down.

Flames in the twelve bronze braziers around it bent under an unseen wind, their light flickering.

Four Amazon guards stationed beside the Oracle Stone dropped to one knee, bracing the ends of their spears against the floor to stay upright.

The Oracle Stone had not reacted so violently since the year Darkseid's army of Parademons tried to invade Earth.

"Ring the bell," Hippolyta ordered.

A guard rose and ran toward the tower at the edge of the hall.

The deep toll of the bronze bell spread across Themyscira.

Members of the council armed and armored themselves, converging from every corner of the island.

Hundreds of fully armed Amazon warriors formed ranks in the square outside the temple. Spears struck shields in a unified metallic clang.

Diana led them. She wore red-and-blue armor, with the Lasso of Truth at her waist and the Aegis on her back.

"What happened?" Diana climbed the steps to her mother's side.

Hippolyta said nothing. She pointed toward the Oracle Stone in the middle of the hall.

Ancient runes across the obsidian began to shine, giving off a blinding white light.

The beams intertwined, projecting an image into the air.

The image was blurry and intermittent, riddled with interference.

It showed an abandoned dock beneath a rain-soaked night sky.

A pale man stood amid the wreckage.

Someone lay beneath his foot.

The person he was standing on wore a red cape and an S-shaped emblem on his chest.

The hall fell silent.

Diana clenched her fists and whispered a name.

"Clark."

In the image, the pale man lifted his foot and brought it down hard again.

There was no sound, but everyone could see the utter brutality in that blow.

Philippa, the eldest seer, stepped forward.

Leaning on an oak staff, she knelt before the Oracle Stone.

She pressed both hands to the floor, closed her eyes, and began chanting an ancient spell of Olympus.

She was trying to trace the man's origins.

The gem atop her staff glowed green as she tried to establish a connection with the man in the image.

It lasted only a second.

Crack. The gem at the top of her staff shattered into powder.

Philippa reeled backward and spat blood.

Two guards rushed forward to support her.

"This is no creation of Olympus." Philippa pushed the guards away and wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand. Her voice was hoarse and urgent. "He comes neither from the stars nor from the abyss."

"Then what is he?" asked a council member, gripping a spear.

"I cannot tell." Philippa opened her eyes, dread plain in them. "His thread of fate is blank. He is not on the Fates' loom. A being beyond all reason has appeared in the mortal world. He is trampling its rules."

"He isn't using any magical artifact," another elder said, watching the image on the Oracle Stone. "The power holding Clark down comes entirely from his body. His reserves of energy are beyond anything we understand."

Diana stared at the man's face in the image.

His eyes held brazen arrogance. He looked straight at the viewpoint and raised his middle finger.

"I'm going to the human world." Diana turned to face her mother.

Hippolyta did not answer.

She looked at the now-quiet obsidian, then at the warriors standing ready in the square.

"You know how powerful Superman is." Hippolyta met her daughter's eyes, her tone grave. "If that man can pin Clark under his foot, what can you change by going? The Amazons cannot lose their strongest warrior."

"Clark is kind," Diana said evenly, each word clear. "He worries about civilians, about buildings, about what's right. He's always holding back. His kindness is his shackle."

Diana rested a hand on the hilt at her waist.

"Superman lost because he couldn't bring himself to go all out. I won't make that mistake."

Hippolyta looked at her daughter.

She knew Diana's temper too well. Once Diana made up her mind, not even Hydra could drag her back.

"Go to the Temple of Ares." Hippolyta turned away from her. "Take what you need. Don't underestimate him."

The Temple of Ares stood on a cliff at the northernmost tip of Themyscira.

Diana pushed open its heavy bronze doors.

She found Artemis, who had stayed behind.

"I'm leaving the island's defense to you." Diana removed the insignia of command from her waist and handed it over. "Strengthen the magical barrier. Increase coastal patrols. If I don't return, seal Themyscira completely. Don't send anyone to look for me."

Artemis took the insignia and nodded firmly. "I'll protect Themyscira."

Diana walked alone into the depths of the hall.

Reliefs carved into the walls showed the Amazons battling ancient demon gods.

At the far end stood a black stone pedestal.

A dust-covered bronze box rested on it.

Diana drew a dagger, cut her left index finger, and let her blood drip into the box's keyhole.

A mechanism turned with a harsh scrape. The box sprang open.

Inside lay a short sword half an arm long.

The sword was surprisingly heavy in her hand.

Its hilt was carved from the bone of some ancient sea beast and felt chillingly cold.

The blade was dull, without a trace of shine. Even its edge looked somewhat blunt.

This was a lesser version of the Godslayer Sword: Magic-Breaker.

It could not cut through a god's immortal body, but it could sever any magical construct or energy field.

The Amazon ancestors had once used it to cut through Medusa's petrifying beam.

Diana swung it. The blade sliced through the air without a sound.

The sword did not thirst for blood. It existed only to destroy the structure of energy.

Diana slid the short sword into a custom sheath on the outside of her thigh.

The night was far advanced.

Outside Hippolyta's bedroom.

Diana stood before the door.

She stood there for ten full minutes, raising her hand and lowering it again. In the end, she did not knock.

She knew her mother was awake. She also did not know whether she would survive this journey.

A warrior's farewell often brought bad luck.

A sigh came from behind the door, followed by the sound of a page turning.

Diana turned and headed for the cliff outside.

Diana bent her knees slightly, the muscles in her legs tensing.

The next second, she leaped into the air.

As she passed through the barrier.

Every star above Themyscira dimmed in unison for half a second.

Before the temple, Philippa looked up at the sky.

The old seer clasped her hands around her broken staff.

"Even the gods are afraid."

Above the ocean.

Diana flew swiftly above the clouds.

The high-altitude wind cut across her cheeks. Below her, waves rolled across a black ocean stretching to the horizon.

She was flying fast when a point of light appeared ahead.

Diana slowed and hovered in midair.

A jet-black private plane approached from the west, bound east.

A blue-and-white logo was printed on its fuselage: LexCorp.

The plane swept past two hundred meters below Diana, its engines roaring through the night.

Diana's gaze pierced the cabin windows.

She saw a bald man seated on a luxurious leather sofa, holding a glass of champagne. Several holographic screens were open before him.

Diana closed her eyes and sensed the air around her.

An overpowering scent wafted from the cabin.

It was human greed, mixed with ruthless ambition.

She knew that scent all too well. Before every war in the human world, politicians and arms dealers gave off the same smell.

Diana opened her eyes, her brow furrowed.

That plane was headed for Gotham too.

Gotham.

The city had become a vast vortex, swallowing everything around it.

"Human schemes are always more frightening than monsters," Diana murmured.

Two utterly different forces, each with its own purpose, converged along the same flight path.

With a sonic boom, Diana followed the plane's route toward the city shrouded in darkness.