"Deechalafrea Ero," Diana whispered, her voice a mix of awe and dread as she read from the ancient book. We had followed a lead from her friend Barbara, a lead that had brought us to a strange man claiming to be a Mayan descendant.
He had this book, and the language on its pages was a chilling mirror of the stone's inscription.
"What is it?" I asked, my mind racing to put the pieces together.
"The God of Lies, Deception—"
"Pfft," I couldn't help it. A burst of inexplicable laughter erupted from me, a sound that felt both familiar and foreign.
"HA HA HA ha HA, Puny God Pfft~"
Diana stopped, her expression one of utter confusion. "What is it, Steve?" she asked, her voice sharp with concern.
"I'm sorry," I said, a little breathlessly, trying to suppress my laughter. "It's just... 'Puny God.' Hahaha." The words felt like a memory I couldn't quite grasp, a flash of something that had nothing to do with this moment, yet triggered an uncontrollable reaction.
"This is not a laughing matter, Steve." she said.
"I know, I know," I said, taking deep breaths to calm myself. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I did it. It's like some memory just triggered, something I don't even remember. But it's gone now." Something is seriously wrong with me, I thought, the fragmented vision of my dreams becoming clearer.
"What is so wrong with it granting wishes? It seems like a dream stone to me," Barbara chimed in paying no heed to my outburst, just like pragmatic observer.
"No," Diana said, her face grim. "If he is the one who powered that stone, there has to be a trick."
"Wishes with a trick," I said, a grim memory from my childhood rushing back. "The Monkey's Paw." The words felt heavy on my tongue. "It gives you what you want the most, but takes away your most valuable possession."
"Diana... your powers," I said, the realization a cold dread in my stomach. I couldn't finish the thought.
"How do we stop it?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"The only way to stop such things is to destroy the stone," I said, my voice low. "Or give back what was given to you." I left Diana alone to think things through and prepare for the inevitable.
After what felt like an eternity, Diana came out, her eyes resolute. "Maxwell Lord has become the stone," she said, her voice filled with an unwavering resolve. "We have to stop him."
I folded a piece of paper I had been holding, something I had written—something I don't know what to do with. I put it stealthily inside my pocket and turned towards her. "Then let's go."
Barbara, however, did not follow us, a sense of unease settling over me. We made our way to the White House with the help of a "male acquaintance" of Diana's, a gentleman who, "influenced by her charm," unknowingly helped us infiltrate the heavily guarded building.
Inside, we finally had our confrontation with Maxwell Lord, but our plan was foiled.
Barbara, our ally until now, appeared and, with a terrifying burst of strength, bashed us aside. Her for now sporting feline features the wish had apparently taken its toll on her, too.
As I carried Diana, we made our way out through the streets, which were filled with mayhem, arson, and riots.
The city was tearing itself apart. People were struggling to find shelter, to make sense of what was happening. This was a world on the brink of self-destruction. I found a quiet corner and held her face in my hands.
"Diana, listen to me," I said, my voice filled with a desperate, raw love. "I am grateful for this life, and you made it better. But you know what you have to do. The world needs you. You have to let me go."
The words felt like a dagger in my heart, but I knew they were true.
I am holding her back.
Tears streamed down her face as she held on to me. "I'll won't ever love again," she sobbed.
"I pray that's not true," I said, trying to smile. "There is a big world out there, and I am glad I got to see it."
"I can't say goodbye, Steve. It hurts." she said, her voice a broken whisper.
"You don't have to," I said, pulling her into a final, aching embrace. "I'm already gone." I said as I pushed her away.
As I watched her turn the corner, I put my hand over the pocket where I had put the paper. I thought about whether I should destroy it, whether I should erase this knowledge from her life. But as I heard her voice, a distant cry of my name, I let it be. My life was a gift, and I had a choice to make, a choice only I could make. My final gift to her, whether it would reach her will be a decision I will leave to 'fate'.