The Lasso of Truth dangled from a streetlamp nearby, its golden rope looped like a noose ready to tighten around a neck. In the eerie hush that followed Hades' challenge, the voice of the Underworld king echoed from the slain knight's lips.
"Let's use this wedding noose to prove it. Let Wonder Woman speak the truth. The noose of truth will bind her, and she will tell me if her love is real."
Wonder Woman folded her arms, unflinching.
"Binding me can make me tell the truth," she said coolly, "but why set it up like a noose? Is it to hang me if I say I don't love you?"
Her tone was defiant, not frightened. Still, her eyes flicked toward Adrian, watching him briefly for an unspoken reaction.
Despite her sarcasm, Diana showed no intention of backing down. She approached the lasso‑noose calmly and, after a deep breath, closed her eyes and placed her head through it.
"Now speak," Hades commanded. "Tell me, Wonder Woman, do you love me? Speak clearly, and no one will impede our marriage."
Diana's voice rang through the gloom with surprising conviction.
"I love you!"
Hades' face, even in shadow, looked as though it brightened with satisfaction.
"Hmph, that settles it," he said through the knight's body. "Finally, I have found a woman who loves me."
But before the echoes could fade, Diana's voice changed. Through the Lasso of Truth, bolstered by ancient magic, her words took on a different weight.
"I love him more!" she declared, pointing at Adrian. "This fervent love is stronger than what I feel for you, Hades!"
Her words stunned the king of the Underworld, silence falling like a blade upon the specters that stirred in the twilight around them.
Diana didn't wait. With a swift motion, she tore the lasso from her neck and whistled sharply.
From not far off came the familiar thunder of hooves — the tall horse she had ridden earlier. It galloped to her side, powerful and unbroken.
Diana leapt into the saddle, drawing the golden lasso toward Adrian.
"Catch!" she called.
Adrian hesitated for a heartbeat, caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Then he reached out and snagged one end of the rope.
"Whoah!"
With a sharp pull forward, Diana yanked him onto the horse's back. Now they were both mounted, seated tightly together as the powerful beast reared triumphantly, weight balanced between strength and grace.
Holding the reins, Diana spoke over the rhythmic thunder of hooves, her voice loud with freedom.
"No one can bind me, whether mortal or god!"
With that, she urged the horse onward, and it galloped toward whatever freedom remained. Hades made no attempt to pursue them, his expression inscrutable but simmering with emotion.
As their silhouettes vanished into the distant streets of the Underworld, Hades sighed, a sound tinged with frustration and disbelief.
"Even Eros's twin arrows could not make her love me?"
The sound of hooves faded, replaced by silence that stretched like tension across a battlefield.
The journey through that shadowed cityscape brought them to the threshold of existence itself. At last they re‑entered the surface world, where the sun cast long rays through the horizon and warmth kissed their faces once more.
Adrian breathed in deeply, feeling reborn in the light.
"Seems Hades let us go intentionally," Diana observed, watching the sky.
"If he wanted to stop us, it would be effortless," she continued, eyes fixed on the sun.
Adrian glanced at her wryly. "So was his heart broken by you, his nearly bride?"
If Diana truly declared love for another in Hades' face, most mortals would be crushed by such an insult. It made Adrian wonder about the king's tendencies and peculiarities.
Diana laughed lightly, managing a smile even after the ordeal.
Adrian looked at her with detached curiosity. "Aren't you curious why I was in the Underworld in the first place?"
Diana shook her head with an almost carefree shrug.
"When it comes to other people's private matters," she said, "I generally stick to the rule of not asking too many questions."
Adrian smirked, his voice casual. He didn't care much for her backstory. His priorities lay elsewhere — above all, he intended to settle unfinished business with the three women who had first sent him into that realm.
Diana stopped him before he could walk away. Rain clouds gathered overhead as the wind whispered through the air.
"I know a place you might be interested in," she said with a surprising calm.
Metropolis.
Meanwhile, Clark Kent stormed across the sky in search of the next magician. Frustration mounted as time slipped by without finding the remaining torn pages of Lana's spellbook. His patience was thinning toward a jagged edge, his focus narrowing to a single point.
Each magician Clark interrogated had resisted him, and most had succumbed to the dark magic backlash, morphing into grotesque, tumor‑like monsters before Clark was forced to end their suffering. Despite dispatching each threat, Clark had nothing to show for it in his ongoing investigation.
As he soared faster and faster, crashing through clouds and dispersing white breaks in the sky above Metropolis, his momentum grew so strong it left a conical cloud in his wake.
The deep echoes of thunder rolled across the skies even though the weather was clear — a phenomenon that caught Zatanna's attention from her secluded apartment.
"Is that thunder?" she murmured in confusion.
Outside, the day was bright, and the clarity of the sky should have left no room for thunder.
Puzzled, she furrowed her brow and returned to the documents clutched in her hands — materials she had painstakingly compiled from her father's study. Although her father was now missing, she refused to give up the search.
She had combed the world for arcane texts, deciphering each cryptic page with the veteran magical knowledge her father had taught her. Trained since childhood, Zatanna had dedicated her life to mastering her craft, from escaping a straitjacket to breaking free from locked boxes under pressure.
"Why do we speak backward?" she remembered asking her father once.
His answer had been, "We are hiding from dangerous forces." The more powerful the magic, the heavier the price it demanded.
She exhaled and tossed her pen onto her desk, almost forgetting she could no longer cast spells.
Unconscious habits, she thought ruefully, can sometimes be dangerous.
Flipping on her light, she shelved the magic book she'd read and took out another titled Cthulhu.
"It's just supposed to be recreational reading," she murmured, "but it does tap into some dark themes."
Zatanna traced the title carefully.
Perhaps the visions others saw during the Day of Slumber really were glimpses into something far darker. And Adrian Kent — whoever he was — might hold the answers she needed.
Clutching the book, she stepped out of her apartment, only to find someone she least wanted to see waiting in the hallway.
"Constantine," she said flatly.
His cigarette glowed as he exhaled smoke and gave her a lopsided grin.
"I'm not haunting you," he replied. "I just happen to predict your moves. Like right now, I know you're heading out. That's a long trip where you'll lock the doors, close the windows, and disappear for who knows how long."
Zatanna stepped closer, eyes narrowed.
"I'm just going to a nearby town," she said firmly, "one where you don't need to lock anything."
Constantine chuckled. "Maybe. But the 'long trip' I mentioned isn't counted by distance. Get in the car."
She hesitated only briefly before climbing into his old rental, rolling down the small town roads.
Soon they reached Smallville.
"It should be a right turn on Highway 31," Constantine said with his usual nonchalance, "follow a bumpy road, and then you'll be at Kent Farm."
Zatanna cast him a wry look. "You don't have to be polite, just rein in your bastardly behavior."
"No need," he replied. "Polite demeanor is the last thing needed around here."
They arrived at the farm and knocked at the door.
"Hello, Mrs. Kent. I'm Zatanna, Adrian's friend."
Martha's pregnancy was unmistakable, and Zatanna greeted her warmly, though her confusion was evident in her eyes.