The forest was silent. The two women exchanged looks, each seeing the same flicker of unease in the other's eyes. That voice they'd just heard hadn't been an illusion.
Thea activated the Eye of Horus again, sweeping the area. Within a radius of five hundred meters, it showed only two life forms—them—and half a roasted boar. Surely the pig hadn't laughed? That would be… unsettling.
She poked the carcass a few times with her sword, just to be sure. No response. No residual energy, no weird aura—just tender, delicious pork. So where had the voice come from?
Neither of them had an answer, and after a moment's silence, both simply shrugged. Thea wasn't afraid—she'd slain gods before. Ghosts were small potatoes. Diana, too, had no concept of fear in her vocabulary. And so, the two calmly sat back down and continued eating.
When Hippolyta arrived with attendants bringing cooking utensils and sacks of grain, this was the scene she found: two women sitting cross-legged by the fire, surrounded by scraps of what used to be a pig. The smell of roasted meat drifted half a mile through the forest. Even the queen's attendants couldn't help but swallow hard at the scent.
"What exactly are you two doing?" Hippolyta asked, her tone dry but amused.
Sweet, honest Diana couldn't get a word out. Thea, on the other hand, never missed a beat. "We're conducting a sacred offering to honor the Moon Goddess!" she said smoothly.
By now, Thea had figured the queen out: any act that defied the temple or annoyed the priestesses automatically earned Hippolyta's approval. If Thea decided to burn down the temple itself, the queen would probably help by keeping watch.
The queen's expression didn't change; she simply glanced at their grease-smeared faces and said lightly, "The gods should be honored in the heart, not through appearances. Very well—your offering is accepted. The supplies are yours. Finish your… 'ceremony,' then rest."
With that, she signaled her warriors to set down the utensils and grain, and departed without another word.
"See? Even your mother says it counts as a real offering," Thea said with a grin. "You can relax now."
Diana looked utterly lost. Her mother's words still echoed in her ears. If the queen said it, it must be true—right? She stared at the leftovers on the ground, trying to convince herself that this, somehow, was proper worship.
Thea didn't dwell on it. She cleaned up the scene, dragged Diana off to wash, and they turned in early for the night.
The next morning, Diana rose early for her daily training and breakfast. Thea, having completely given up on the Amazons' meals, decided to fend for herself. She hopped on her hoverboard and headed out to hunt.
Flying along the coast, she unexpectedly spotted a lone figure training hard—her previous opponent, the dark-skinned, muscle-bound warrior.
The woman was running laps with a log strapped to her back, steam rising from her like a forge. Sweat poured down her body as she shouted encouragement to herself.
"Wow. What a beast," Thea murmured. Even at her most disciplined, she'd never gone to such extremes. No wonder the woman's physique looked carved from iron. A thousand frog jumps, ten kilometers of sprinting, eight hundred rope skips—it was the kind of masochistic training straight out of a shōnen anime.
Thea couldn't help admiring her. Determination like that deserved respect. She didn't interrupt—just smiled, flew off quietly, and thought, If the next trial is about endurance, I might as well surrender now. I'm not racing that human tank around the island.
On her way back, her luck—or misfortune—continued. Two eagles started circling overhead. When they suddenly dove at her, shrieking, she reacted on instinct, snapping both their necks mid-air before landing with one bird in each hand.
Seriously? she thought. Is this some cosmic vendetta? Maybe every eagle on Earth resents me because Horus died? But that's in the future—how would they even know?
Unable to make sense of it, she plucked and gutted the birds, roasted them over a small fire, and seasoned them with a pinch of the salt Hippolyta had sent. The meat was tough, dry, and utterly uninspiring. One bite of pork had ruined all other meat forever, she thought mournfully.
After breakfast, Thea decided to secure a proper food supply. Compared to Gideon's sleek high-tech ship, Themyscira felt like the Stone Age. She wanted dumplings—but halfway through, she realized she didn't even know how to knead dough. And there was no Google in 1918.
Luckily, Diana's study contained a mountain of old books. Thea flipped through them and eventually pieced together the process. When Diana burst into the room, Thea's face was covered in flour, her hands deep in dough.
"What? The second trial's now?"
"Stop asking questions—just come with me!" Diana grabbed her by the wrist.
There was no rushing Thea, of course. She wasn't going anywhere looking like a baker. After washing up and changing clothes, she finally followed Diana to the island's eastern forest.
She knew this place well—it was where she'd hunted her boar and gathered mushrooms. So what now? Another roast-off?
Because of their delay, the entire island was already gathered when they arrived. The three priestesses stood at the front, faces grim. No fake smiles this time—only cold, watchful eyes.
The eldest cleared her throat. "The Goddess of the Hunt demands skill and precision. The task is simple: enter the forest and bring back as much game as you can. Victory will go to the better hunter." Then she added, feigning concern, "Miss Queen… you do know how to use a bow, don't you?"
It was a clever setup. They'd realized brute strength wouldn't beat Thea, so they chose a contest of finesse. Even though her opponent, the Amazon warrior, wasn't an expert archer either, five thousand years of practice had made such skills second nature. The priestesses were confident the odds were finally in their favor.
"You can shoot, can't you?" Diana whispered anxiously. No one on the island had seen Thea with a bow—she'd hunted with spears these past few days, after all.
"I'll manage," Thea said modestly, though her inner voice screamed, Are you kidding me? We're practically an archery dynasty—Green Arrow, Red Arrow, take your pick!
Her vague answer and request to borrow Diana's bow only made the priestesses smile knowingly. Finally, something she's bad at.
Diana reluctantly handed over her weapon and quiver, still fretting.
Thea tested the bow. It wasn't a modern composite model but an ancient horn bow, heavy to draw and far less forgiving. Precision here came from strength, balance, and instinct. Fortunately, she had all three.
There were no limits on arrows—only time. The hunt would last until sunset. Taking two quivers of arrows, Thea and the Amazon warrior chose opposite directions and, each with three "assistants" who were really there to spy, disappeared into the forest.