THEMYSCIRA
The rumbling had ceased. Stillness returned, the night draped heavy upon the land. Yet the silence was deceptive—what came next was not peace, but herald.
BWOOOOOOOH!
A horn shattered the calm, its brazen cry ripping through the night sky. It was so loud it drowned even the cries of startled birds and fleeing beasts, a sound not of alarm, but of war.
Atrius turned sharply, his red eyes narrowing in the direction from which it came. Then came the rumble—not the deep, earth-splitting quake from earlier, but a rolling, thunderous cadence. The pounding of hooves.
He moved without hesitation.
THUNG. THUNG. THUNG.
His armored boots struck the broken earth as he scaled the rubble of the shattered forest, ascending a mound where the ground itself had heaved and tilted in the earlier upheaval. Roots jutted from the dirt like broken veins. An ancient tree, its trunk loosened by the quakes, came crashing down across his path.
BANG!
Atrius swatted it aside with a sweep of his arm, splinters erupting as he forced his way upward. He needed vantage—he needed to see.
At last, reaching the crest of the dirt hill, he paused. His gaze swept over the ruined forest below.
And then he saw it.
An unnatural sight unfurled beneath the moonlight:
Thousands of warhorses, their muscles rippling like storm-tossed waves, thundered across the scarred land. Their hooves struck with such force the ground cracked beneath them, each impact a hammer blow of sound. Upon their backs rode Amazon warriors, clad in gleaming bronze and steel, their armor catching the silver of the moon. Spears, swords, and shields glinted in hand—an army in motion, riding with grim purpose.
It was a host greater than any Atrius had seen within the Amazon kingdom. His brow furrowed. Such a vast mobilization could mean only one thing: battle was imminent.
The moon hung high, pale and cold, bathing their path in argent light. Yet what unsettled Atrius was not their number, but their stride. The steeds scaled rubble and broken terrain as though gravity itself yielded before them—hooves touched earth, yet their momentum never faltered, never slowed. It was as though some unseen force willed their charge forward, unimpeded.
Atrius's expression hardened, his thoughts turning to Hippolyta . Where was their queen amidst this tide of war?
His gaze shifted to the rear ranks, where formations tightened with military precision. Then—
BWOOOOOH!
Another horn cried out, this one distant, echoing from far beyond the horizon.
Atrius's eyes sharpened. Another rumble. Another stampede. The sound of hooves rolled in from elsewhere, not here, not near—but converging.
Realization struck him like a blade.
What he saw was not the army.
It was only a part of it.
The Amazons were gathering, their full-strength mustering for war.
Without hesitation, Atrius hurled himself from the elevation.
WHRRRRR–SHHHHHH!
Gears within his armor whined and clicked as the armored giant cut through the air. The wind tore against him, whistling as it rushed past the serrated edges of his war-plate.
FWEEEEEEE—
The fall ended in violence.
BOOOM!
The earth split beneath him as he landed, cracks spidering outward from his boots. Dust and rubble erupted in a plume, scattering across the night like ash shaken from a great forge. Stabilizing, he straightened with a motion fluid yet unearthly, then launched forward at once.
THUNG. THUNG. THUNG. THUNG. THUNG.
Each stride struck like thunder, a relentless cadence rolling across the ruined filled.
His mind sharpened. This is it. Gaia and Hippolyta had spoken of war, and now the signs were clear. Thousands of Amazons mustering, their armies in motion—this was no mere drill. This was war. And in the midst of this war was his passage. His ticket off this world.
He did not intend to be Gaia's pawn.
He would carve his own path.
Any who stood in the way—he would dismantle them.
His armored frame blurred as he surged past the rear of the stampede. Horses screamed and Amazons gasped, but the giant shadow was already gone, weaving along the edges of their ranks with a speed no mortal beast could match.
"By Artemis—what is that?!" one Amazon shouted, craning her neck.
"I don't know—ride carefully!" her sister barked; eyes locked on the blurred figure that streaked by.
THUNG. THUNG. THUNG. THUNG.
Whispers spread like sparks leaping from dry tinder.
"It's him," breathed one rider, awe twisting her voice.
"Who?" her companion demanded, glancing sideways.
"The Queen's giant—the one from the Athenian skirmish."
Rumor carried faster than hooves. Though many among the host had never set eyes upon him, they had heard the stories: of the towering armored warrior who fought beside Amazons, of the shadow that loomed over men. Now they saw him with their own eyes, racing toward the front.
The Amazon army was vast, broken into zones and duties—some battalions guarding sacred ruins leading to the mythic realms and dangers, others patrolled the borders of paradise, others watching over cursed relics.
Few had witnessed the giant in gold.
And yet, among the many astonished faces, there were those whose eyes gleamed with something more than curiosity—something closer to fervor. Sisters smiled faintly, lips curled in unsettling delight as they watched Atrius vanish toward the vanguard. Their gazes were not of caution, but of reverence. Almost fanatic. this strange sight didn't go unnoticed by their sisters who looked at them in confusion and worry.
The ground quaked with the charge as Atrius reached the head of the column. There, amid the armored vanguard, his gaze found a familiar figure. Even in the dimness, his enhanced sight pierced the shadows.
Lyssipe.
Her form was unmistakable, her posture as proud as when he had first seen her.
THUNG. THUNG. THUNG.
The metallic roar of Atrius's footsteps grew louder as he closed the distance. For reasons unknown, the steeds did not rear or shy away. The beasts of war, trained for countless generations, remained unnaturally calm, as though compelled by a force deeper than instinct.
Lyssipe turned. Her eyes widened as they fixed upon the giant striding toward her flank, his silhouette black against the paling horizon.
From the far east, the first echoes of dawn began to touch the sky. The night was dying. The world, however, was only just beginning to wake.