THEMYSCIRA - OCTOBER 24, 1943
Dawn broke over Themyscira in a brilliant display of gold and rose, light spilling across marble columns and stone pathways that had remained unchanged for millennia. As the first rays touched the training grounds, Diana, Princess of the Amazons, was already moving through her morning exercises with fluid precision.
Her sword flashed in the early light, cutting patterns in the air that would have been impossible for any ordinary warrior. Each movement flowed seamlessly into the next, a dance of lethal grace performed for an audience of one. In these quiet moments before the rest of the island stirred, Diana could push her abilities without drawing the concerned glances her unusual strength often elicited from her sisters.
A particularly powerful strike split the air with a sound like thunder, causing Diana to pause. She hadn't meant to channel quite that much force. Glancing around to ensure no one had witnessed the display, she sheathed her sword and moved to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the azure waters surrounding Paradise Island.
The sea stretched endlessly toward the horizon, peaceful and empty—as it had been for all of Diana's existence. Beyond that horizon lay what her mother and sisters called "Man's World," a realm of chaos, destruction, and darkness that the Amazons had left behind thousands of years ago when the gods granted them this sanctuary.
"You begin earlier each day, Princess."
Diana turned to find Antiope, General of the Amazon armies and her aunt, approaching with the silent grace that made her the island's most formidable warrior. Unlike Diana's mother, who ruled with wisdom and restraint, Antiope believed in the hard truths of combat and the necessity of preparedness.
"I couldn't sleep," Diana admitted, automatically straightening her posture under her aunt's appraising gaze.
"The dreams again?" Antiope asked, her voice softening slightly.
Diana nodded. The dreams had begun on her last name day vivid visions of battles unlike any in the Amazon histories, of strange flying machines and weapons that unleashed fire and death across vast distances. She had described them to her mother once, only to see a shadow of fear cross Hippolyta's face before it was quickly masked behind maternal concern.
"You should not dismiss them so readily," Antiope said, surprising Diana with her departure from the usual Amazon wisdom that such dreams were merely fantasies to be set aside. "Our histories speak of Amazons with the gift of prophecy."
"Mother says they're simply stories I've heard from Mnemosyne, taking shape in my sleep," Diana replied, repeating Hippolyta's explanation.
Antiope's expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes—disagreement, perhaps, or knowledge she could not share. "Come," she said instead of pursuing the subject. "The others will be gathering for morning training. Today we practice with the bow."
As they walked together toward the main training grounds, Diana observed her aunt from the corner of her eye. Of all the Amazons, Antiope alone seemed to understand Diana's restlessness, her hunger for knowledge that extended beyond the boundaries of their island paradise.
"Have you ever wondered what lies beyond the mist?" Diana asked suddenly, giving voice to the question that had occupied her thoughts with increasing frequency.
Antiope paused mid-stride, her gaze turning toward the magical barrier that concealed Themyscira from the outside world. "I have lived beyond the mist, Diana. We all have, save you."
"And was it truly as terrible as the stories say?"
The general's weathered face grew solemn. "In some ways, it was worse. Men proved themselves capable of cruelties that even Ares could not have devised alone. Yet..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "There was beauty there as well. Art, music, poetry. Moments of courage and sacrifice that could move even an Amazon's heart."
"Then why do we speak only of the darkness?" Diana pressed, sensing a rare opportunity for honesty.
"Because remembering the light makes the choice to remain here more difficult," Antiope answered simply. "Your mother believes that protecting you—protecting all Amazons—from the world of men is worth forgetting whatever virtues they might possess."
Before Diana could respond, they crested the hill overlooking the main training grounds, where dozens of Amazon warriors were already assembled. The conversation would have to wait, as it always did when Diana's questions ventured too close to forbidden territories.
Training proceeded as it had for countless days before—rigorous, demanding, and carefully structured to hone each warrior's skills to perfection. Diana excelled as always, her natural abilities setting her apart despite her best efforts to blend in with her sisters.
During archery practice, her arrows hit targets that others could barely see. In hand-to-hand combat, she had to consciously restrain her strength to avoid injuring her sparring partners. Even in tests of endurance, Diana found herself holding back, slowing her pace to match that of the others when she could have continued for hours without fatigue.
"You move like water today, Princess," observed Artemis, one of the senior warriors, as they rested between exercises. "Your improvements continue to impress."
Diana accepted the compliment with a smile, though she knew it wasn't improvement at all—merely a lessening of her restraint. She had always been different, had always possessed abilities that surpassed even the most seasoned Amazon warriors. The difference was a source of constant curiosity to her, though her questions were invariably met with vague references to the blessings of the gods.
"The gods favored you at your creation," her mother would say whenever Diana demonstrated unusual strength or speed. "It is a gift to be honored through service to your sisters."
By midday, training concluded, and the Amazons dispersed to their various duties across the island. Diana was scheduled to assist in the Archives, where the collective knowledge and history of their people was preserved in scrolls and codices that dated back to the time of their exile from Man's World.
The Archives were housed in a magnificent circular building of white marble and gold, its dome allowing carefully filtered sunlight to illuminate the ancient texts without damaging them. Mnemosyne, the eldest of the Amazons and keeper of their histories, looked up from her work as Diana entered.
"Ah, Princess," she greeted with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. "Right on time. I have several scrolls requiring transcription today."
Diana returned the smile, genuinely fond of the ancient historian whose seemingly endless store of tales had entertained her throughout childhood. "Of course, Mnemosyne. But may I ask a question first?"
A knowing look crossed the elder Amazon's face. "You always have questions, child. It is one of your most endearing—and occasionally troubling—qualities." She gestured to the stone bench beside her work table. "Ask, and I will answer as best I can."
Diana sat, gathering her thoughts. "This morning, Antiope suggested that my dreams might be prophetic. Is such a thing possible? I thought only the Oracle possessed such gifts."
Mnemosyne set aside her quill with deliberate care. "Antiope should not speak of such things," she said, though her tone held no real rebuke. "But she is not incorrect. There have been Amazons throughout our history who received visions—glimpses of what might come to pass."
"And were these Amazons... different in other ways as well?" Diana asked, her heart beating faster at this rare opening to discuss her uniqueness.
The elder Amazon's eyes grew distant, lost in memories that stretched back thousands of years. "Some were, yes. Stronger, faster, gifted with abilities beyond their sisters." She focused again on Diana with sudden intensity. "What do you see in these dreams, Princess?"
Diana hesitated, then decided that truth was worth whatever consequences might follow. "I see war—not as it was in our histories, with spears and chariots, but with machines that fly and weapons that bring fire from the sky. I see men killing each other in numbers beyond counting." She paused, troubled by the most frequent image. "And I see a figure in armor the color of blood, watching it all with satisfaction."
Mnemosyne's face paled slightly. "Have you told your mother of this figure?"
"No," Diana admitted. "After her reaction to my first description of the dreams, I thought it wiser not to mention such details."
"Perhaps that was best," the elder agreed, her voice lowered as though the very walls might be listening. "But Diana, you must understand—some dreams are more than dreams. Particularly for one such as yourself."
"One such as myself?" Diana repeated, leaning forward. "What do you mean by that?"
Before Mnemosyne could respond, the Archive doors opened, and Queen Hippolyta entered, regal in her formal attire. The elder Amazon immediately busied herself with her scrolls, the moment for revelation shattered.
"Mother," Diana greeted, rising to embrace Hippolyta. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"The Council meeting concluded early," Hippolyta explained, her eyes moving briefly to Mnemosyne with a question in them that Diana couldn't interpret. "I thought I might join you for the afternoon meal."
"That would be wonderful," Diana agreed, though disappointment simmered beneath her smile. Another opportunity for answers, lost to timing and circumstance.
As they walked together through the sun-dappled corridors of the palace, Diana studied her mother's profile, searching for some resemblance to her own features. The queen was beautiful by any standard—golden-haired and blue-eyed, with the timeless grace that all Amazons possessed. Diana's own darker coloring and taller stature had always been attributed to the specific clay from which Hippolyta had sculpted her, blessed by the gods to create the first and only Amazon child.
It was a story Diana had accepted without question as a young girl. But as she grew older, as her strength and speed surpassed even Antiope's, doubts had begun to form. If she was simply clay given life by divine blessing, why was she so different from her sisters? Why did the other Amazons sometimes look at her with a mixture of awe and wariness when they thought she wouldn't notice?
"You're unusually quiet today," Hippolyta observed as they reached the palace gardens where their meal awaited. "Did training not go well?"
"Training was fine," Diana assured her, taking her place at the small table laden with fresh fruits, bread, and wine. "I was just thinking about my dreams again."
Hippolyta's hand paused briefly as she reached for the wine. "I had hoped those had subsided."
"They've grown more vivid," Diana admitted. "And Antiope suggested they might be—"
"Antiope should focus on her duties as general," Hippolyta interrupted, her tone sharper than intended. She softened immediately, reaching across to touch Diana's hand. "Dreams are simply the mind's way of processing our thoughts and experiences, nothing more."
"But I've never experienced war as it appears in my dreams," Diana pointed out. "Never seen the strange weapons or flying machines. How can my mind show me things I've never known?"
The queen sighed, her expression a mixture of concern and resignation. "You've heard countless stories of battle from Antiope and the other warriors. You've studied the histories of our conflicts with Ares and his armies. Your mind simply combines these tales with your imagination."
Diana knew better than to push further—her mother's tone had taken on the finality that meant the discussion was closed. Instead, she redirected the conversation to safer topics: the upcoming harvest festival, the new trading vessels being built by the shipwrights, the friendly archery competition scheduled for the following week.
As they spoke of these mundane matters, Diana couldn't help but feel the weight of unasked questions between them. There were truths about herself, about her nature and purpose, that remained hidden behind her mother's protective silence.
After their meal, Hippolyta was called away to address a dispute among the island's artisans, leaving Diana with an afternoon unexpectedly free from duties. Instead of returning to the Archives, she made her way to a secluded cove on the far side of the island—a place she had discovered in childhood where she could be truly alone with her thoughts.
The small beach was enclosed by steep cliffs, accessible only by a narrow path known to few. Diana removed her sandals and let her feet sink into the warm sand, enjoying the sensation as she approached the water's edge. Here, away from watchful eyes, she could simply be herself without restraint or pretense.
With a sudden burst of joy, she sprinted along the shoreline, allowing her true speed to emerge—a blur of movement that would have been impossible for any ordinary Amazon. She leapt from the sand to a rocky outcropping thirty feet above the water, landing with perfect balance on a surface barely wide enough for her feet.
From this vantage point, she could see past the immediate boundaries of the island to the magical barrier that concealed Themyscira from the outside world. The barrier appeared as a perpetual mist, shifting and swirling with occasional glimpses of blue sky beyond. What lay past that mist had become an increasing preoccupation for Diana, a question that grew more urgent with each passing year.
"What am I meant for?" she whispered to the empty air. "Why am I different if not for some purpose?"
The island paradise that had nurtured her for centuries now felt increasingly like a beautiful cage. Her sisters lived in contentment, their immortal lives given meaning through their devotion to the gods and to each other. But Diana felt a calling beyond Themyscira's shores, a pull toward something she could neither name nor ignore.
As the afternoon light began to soften toward evening, Diana reluctantly left her sanctuary and returned to the main settlement. The evening meal would be a communal affair, as it was most nights, with music and storytelling to follow. Despite her inner turmoil, Diana found genuine joy in these gatherings—in the fellowship of her sisters and the celebration of their shared culture.
The central plaza was already filled with Amazons when Diana arrived, long tables arranged beneath the open sky and laden with the bounty of their island. Laughter and conversation flowed as freely as the wine, creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie that had remained unchanged for millennia.
Diana took her place beside her mother at the head table, exchanging greetings with the senior warriors and council members seated around them. The meal progressed pleasantly, with discussions of the day's activities and plans for the coming weeks.
As the stars began to appear overhead, the formal portion of the meal concluded, and the evening's entertainment began. A group of Amazons brought out instruments—lyres, flutes, and drums—while others cleared a space in the center of the plaza for dancing.
"Will you honor us with a tale tonight, Mnemosyne?" called one of the younger warriors as the music began.
The elder Amazon smiled, setting aside her wine cup as she rose to her feet. "What would you hear of this evening? The founding of Themyscira? The great battles against Ares? The creation of our princess?"
"Tell us of Ares' defeat," suggested another. "It has been too long since we remembered our greatest victory."
A murmur of agreement ran through the gathering, and Mnemosyne moved to the center of the circle, her ancient eyes gleaming in the torchlight.
"In the age when gods walked freely among mortals," she began, her voice taking on the rhythmic cadence of a practiced storyteller, "the Amazons were created by Zeus to be a bridge between the divine and the mortal—warriors who would spread wisdom, justice, and compassion throughout a world too often ruled by chaos and cruelty."
Diana settled into the familiar tale, though she found herself drawn in anew by Mnemosyne's skill at weaving history into living narrative. The elder's voice seemed to carry the weight of personal memory rather than merely recounted legend, bringing ancient events to life in the flickering firelight.
"Under Queen Hippolyta's leadership, the Amazons built a civilization of unmatched glory, forming alliances with the noble among mankind while battling those corrupted by darkness. In those days, the pantheons of the world moved more freely between realms, united in loose confederation under the all seeing gaze of The One, whose name we do not speak but whose presence touches all creation."
The gathered Amazons nodded solemnly at this reference to the mysterious entity that even the gods acknowledged as supreme. Many made subtle gestures of reverence, touching fingers to heart or forehead in recognition of powers beyond comprehension.
The elder's voice grew somber as she continued. "But Hippolyta's heart was twice betrayed by those she had allowed herself to trust. First by Hercules, who came with promises of devotion and partnership. Our queen opened her heart to him, believing his words of eternal fidelity. But his wandering heart proved false, leaving wounds that taught our queen the fleeting nature of a man's loyalty."
Diana noticed her mother's expression tighten almost imperceptibly at the mention of Hercules—an ancient wound that had never fully healed despite the passage of millennia. The stories told in the world of men about Hercules and the Amazons had grown distorted over centuries, tales of conquest and subjugation that bore little resemblance to the painful truth of a love betrayed. Hippolyta had never bothered to correct these falsehoods, perhaps finding it easier to let mankind believe their violent fantasies than to acknowledge the deeper hurt of trust violated.
"For centuries after, the Amazons kept their distance from the affairs of mankind, though we maintained our sacred duty as guardians of knowledge. We traded wisdom with those from beyond stars, received visions from northern seers, and even parleyed with the Fallen One himself when necessity demanded it."
Mnemosyne's gaze swept the circle, her eyes reflecting firelight like pools of ancient memory. "Then came the great turning point—when Rome embraced the worship of a single god and abandoned the old ways. Ares, ever ambitious, saw opportunity in this chaos. If the mortals no longer revered the Olympians, he reasoned, then the gods themselves might fall. He launched a devastating assault upon his divine kin, determined to seize supremacy for himself."
The gathered Amazons leaned forward, though all had heard this tale countless times before. Some of the oldest among them had lived through these events, yet still they listened with rapt attention.
"The battle between the gods shook the very foundations of reality," Mnemosyne continued, her voice rising with the gravity of these cosmic events. "Zeus, though wounded and diminished by mankind's fading worship, faced his rebellious son in combat that shattered mountains and boiled seas. With the last of his divine strength, the King of Gods struck down Ares, though the victory cost Zeus his own immortal life."
Diana felt a strange tightening in her chest at these words, a connection to Zeus that seemed deeper than mere reverence for a fallen deity. She had always experienced this peculiar resonance when hearing of Zeus's sacrifice, as though the story touched something fundamental within her very being.
"With his dying breath," Mnemosyne said softly, "Zeus created this paradise island as an eternal sanctuary for the Amazons. He placed it beyond the reach of mortal eyes and Ares' influence, granting us immortality so that we might preserve the wisdom of the old world even as mankind forgot the very gods who had shaped their civilization."
The elder paused, her ancient gaze finding Diana among the gathered women. "Centuries passed in peaceful isolation, until Queen Hippolyta, whose heart had been guarded since the betrayal by Hercules, found herself drawn to a mysterious visitor upon our shores during a rare thunderstorm. Though his face is never spoken of, we know him only as a manifestation of The One's will, perhaps Zeus's final blessing."
Diana felt the weight of eyes upon her, the familiar discomfort rising as the story approached the tale of her own origin. This part of the narrative had always seemed deliberately vague, filled with symbolic language that obscured as much as it revealed.
"From this encounter, our queen was blessed with new purpose," Mnemosyne continued, her voice gentle but deliberate. "Longing to protect the truth of her heart, Hippolyta shaped an infant from the sacred clay of our shores. With prayers to the remaining gods, that clay was granted divine life, becoming our princess, Diana, the only Amazon born upon Themyscira, untouched by the corruption of man's world."
As always happened when her creation was recounted, Diana felt the attention of the gathering turn toward her—some gazes filled with maternal affection, others with a knowing reverence that suggested layers of meaning beyond the story's surface. She maintained her practiced smile, though questions multiplied in her mind with each retelling of this increasingly suspicious narrative.
Her mother's expression remained carefully composed, though Diana caught the briefest flicker of something, guilt? fear? in Hippolyta's eyes before the queen smoothed her features into regal serenity once more. The queen who had opened her heart once to Hercules, only to have it wounded by his inconstancy, now guarded not only her own secrets but those surrounding her daughter's existence.
The tale concluded with prayers of gratitude to the divine forces who had preserved their paradise through ages of turmoil in the outer world. Music and dancing followed, celebrations that would continue well into the night beneath the stars. Diana participated dutifully in the festivities, though her heart remained preoccupied with the questions that grew more insistent with each passing day.
Later, as the gathering began to disperse, Diana found Antiope standing apart from the others, gazing up at the night sky.
"You were quiet during Mnemosyne's tale," Diana observed as she joined her aunt.
"I have heard it many times," Antiope replied, her tone neutral.
"Is it true?" Diana asked suddenly. "All of it?"
Antiope turned to regard her niece, moonlight silvering her profile. "Truth has many facets, Diana. What remains unspoken is often as important as what is said aloud."
"That isn't an answer."
"No," Antiope agreed with the ghost of a smile. "It isn't." She placed a hand on Diana's shoulder, her grip firm and reassuring. "Your questions come from a good place—a desire to understand your purpose. But some answers can only be found when the time is right to receive them."
"And who decides when that time has come?" Diana pressed.
"The gods, perhaps," Antiope said. "Or fate. Or you yourself." She squeezed Diana's shoulder once before releasing it. "Be patient, Princess. The answers you seek are closer than you might think."
With those cryptic words, Antiope departed, leaving Diana alone with her thoughts and the vast canopy of stars overhead.