THEMYSCIRA
Hippolyta and Agape ascended the weathered stone steps leading from the subterranean prison of Heracles. Neither spoke. Hippolyta's countenance was grim, and Agape followed in solemn silence.
Their return to the palace was brief. At the gates, the sentries greeted as the pair entered.
Themyscira was a marvel of civilization born from discipline and freedom. Though every Amazon was bred for war, the city itself was no mere barracks—it thrived like any metropolis. Grand structures of marble and golden trim stood amidst gardens and training yards. With their extended lifespans, many Amazons pursued crafts beyond warfare: some were blacksmiths, others woodworkers, masons, scholars, or merchants. Battle was a sacred duty invoked only when severity demanded, allowing for a society of both peace and readiness—a free world, ruled by women, grounded in martial might.
Inside the palace halls of alabaster and gold, they turned a corner and halted. Ahead stood a familiar figure.
"Antiope…"Hippolyta breathed, the shadow on her face lifting. Her tone softened with warmth. "It's good to see you walking again."
The woman in question, now dressed in a flowing white tunic, smiled faintly. Her skin glowed with restored strength, but her gaze was still deep and pensive.
"It's good to see I'm not in Hades," Antiope replied with a smirk, her eyes fixed on Hippolyta with quiet affection.
They embraced.
"Good to see you too, Agape. Stop acting like you weren't worried—come here," Antiope added, turning toward her, arms extended.
Agape leaned back slightly to dodge the hug. "I'm fine... there's no need—"
"Too late," Antiope said with a grin, seizing her in a tight hug. Agape gave in with a reluctant sigh.
"So… what did I miss?" Antiope asked, releasing her. "The last thing I recall was Theseus losing his head—and war on our shores."
"The war is over—most of it," Agape replied. "Athens is no longer a threat."
"Indeed. There is little left to worry about," Hippolyta added calmly.
Antiope's brow furrowed. "And Olympus? Have they responded?"
"Silent, mostly," Agape said. "Apart from sending Heracles, nothing of note."
Antiope stopped in her tracks. "Wait—Heracles? He's here… on this island? And you're not worried?!"
Her shoulders tensed, old memories clearly surfacing like ghosts behind her eyes.
"There's no cause for alarm," Hippolyta answered, her voice steady. "He's bound in chains deep in the dungeons. He gave us trouble… but in the end, we were victorious."
Antiope stood still, absorbing the words.
"What bothers me is his odd behavior," Agape muttered.
Antiope blinked. "Odd behavior? He's always been strange."
"Strange, yes, "Hippolyta responded, "but this is… different."
They passed into another corridor, where the walls grew damp and the air thickened. A cool mist clung to the stone like a veil.
"A little different?" Antiope pressed. "Did you discover why?"
Hippolyta sighed, her shoulders lowering slightly. "Unfortunately, our methods barely drew a reaction."
They emerged onto a stone walkway suspended above a shallow swamp. The ground was scattered with puddles—not from rain, but from the area's natural saturation. A silvery fog curled over the waters like living breath.
Antiope scanned the landscape. "Why are we here?"
"To visit someone," Hippolyta replied cryptically.
"A prisoner?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.
"A guest, "Hippolyta said as they continued forward. The fog thickened, swallowing them whole.
CAVE
The path led them to the base of a moss-covered hill, where an open cavern mouth yawned wide, half-shrouded in mist. They stepped inside, the air cooling with a damp bite. No guards were stationed—there was no need. The cave was enchanted. Any soul placed within its bounds would wander forever in fog if they tried to escape.
"Why would you place a guest here?" Antiope asked again, her tone tinged with both concern and confusion.
Agape's mouth twitched slightly, as if holding back words.
"Well," Hippolyta answered, walking deeper into the echoing cavern, "while what you said is true… this guest gives me no alternative."
Antiope cast a questioning glance at Agape.
"You'll see," Agape replied with a wry look before walking ahead.
Antiope hesitated, then followed.
The cave was ancient and damp. Its walls glistened with water and were veiled in soft, green moss. Thin shafts of sunlight filtered in through jagged cracks, casting rays of gold on trickling rivulets that converged into a quiet stream running along the side.
As they ventured deeper, the space widened—vast and open, the heart of the cave illuminated from above by scattered beams. A large, still pond sat at its center, cloaked in dense steam. The warmth here contrasted starkly with the cold they had passed through, and the "fog" was clearly not fog at all—but vapor rising from heat within.
Scattered across the stone floor were fragments of golden armor, massive in scale. A tattered red cloth lay amongst them, mingled with smaller golden shreds. Antiope stared in silent awe.
"…By the gods," she whispered. "The size…"
Her words trailed off as Agape stepped forward.
"Hello?" she called gently, her voice bouncing from the cave walls.
SPLASH.
A sharp, loud sound broke the silence.
From the misted pond, a shadow rose—tall, immense. Water ran down his form as he stepped forward. The pond parted with each motion, and fog pulled away in reverence.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Splash.
The sound of wet, heavy footsteps echoed like distant thunder.
Then he emerged into the light—towering, powerful, his form half-steamed, half-glorious. His red irises glowed faintly, studying them with childlike curiosity… and ancient weight.