Thea didn't have time to consider what the others were feeling. All she knew was that a faint connection had formed between her and the great elk before her — not familiarity, not friendship, but something deeper. Something that pulsed in her blood.
A blood bond?
The thought startled her. How could I possibly share blood with a deer? Then a flicker of realization — the unicorn. Maybe they were distantly related, both born from divine beasts tied to light. That explanation, however flimsy, was the only one that made sense.
The elk didn't understand the bond either. It only stared at her with clouded eyes, trying to see her face more clearly.
The wave of emotion that washed over Thea was heavy — sorrow, longing, pain. It squeezed at her chest until she couldn't ignore it. Her decision was instant. She stepped forward, cradled the creature's massive head in her hands, and pressed her forehead gently against its brow.
If they were truly connected by divine essence, she could share some of her power — just enough of her ocular energy to restore its sight.
"Wait—!"
Diana barely managed a single word before cutting herself off. She didn't know whether to stop Thea or let her continue. Her face flushed with helpless concern.
"What is she doing?" Antiope whispered, watching as threads of golden light shimmered between woman and beast. She could feel something sacred moving through the air, something beyond her understanding.
Diana hesitated, her voice quiet but sure. "She's transferring her divine power."
Antiope's eyes widened. "She's… a child of the gods?"
On Themyscira, that phrase carried no negative weight — only reverence. Killing gods was unthinkable; serving them was natural.
"She is a noble daughter of the gods," Diana said firmly. And in her heart, the ideas of sacrifice, guardianship, and devotion deepened even more.
The truth, of course, was less dramatic. Thea wasn't trying to be noble — just decent. She couldn't stand to watch something suffer if she could fix it. But self-sacrifice? She wasn't that saintly.
Still, the power she wielded came from Horus — the falcon god whose vision pierced heavens and underworld alike. His divine sight was inexhaustible, a light that reached from the highest sky to the deepest earth. Thea only carried a fragment of that might, and transferring a little of it was hardly more than an ache behind her eyes.
The elk itself carried traces of divinity. Its blindness had come not from weakness but despair — it had simply stopped wanting to see. Now, with Thea's spark flowing through it, the creature's own dormant power awoke. The white haze over its eyes began to dissolve like mist under sunlight.
When its sight returned, the first thing it saw was Thea. It nuzzled her cheek affectionately, a low, grateful hum rumbling in its chest.
Thea smiled faintly, though her eyes burned and watered from the effort. She rubbed at them, and a few tears slid down her face.
To the young Amazons watching, it was a vision of beauty — the woman and the beast reunited in light, crying tears of joy. Several of them felt their own eyes sting.
Thea turned, ready to throw a triumphant jab at the smug priests — Well? You gonna tell me I didn't pass now? — when a sudden pulse reached her mind. A message, not in words but in feeling.
Come. Follow me.
The elk tugged gently at her sleeve with its teeth.
"Hey— easy, easy! I'm coming!" Thea laughed breathlessly as the creature pulled with ridiculous strength — easily a ton of force. She nearly lost her footing.
Where are we going? she thought, but the elk gave no answer. It only urged her onward.
Sighing, she let herself be led.
The others looked on, puzzled. None could guess what the elk wanted. Courageous as ever, Diana stepped forward to follow. The Queen and Antiope exchanged worried looks and went after her.
"You mustn't go there!" one of the elder priestesses shouted. Her voice trembled. "That is the resting place of the gods!"
The elk's only answer was a flash of bared teeth — and Thea, without missing a beat, flipped the priestess off.
That did it. The priestesses fell silent, faces pale. The elk's horn glimmered ominously. They knew what that meant: a god's beast defending its will.
The Amazons might be blessed with long life, but not immortality. Death for them was real and final. And to die by a divine creature's hand — that would stain their names for eternity.
They'd only wanted to preserve a bit of authority, not commit blasphemy. Even Hippolyta — lover of Zeus himself — wouldn't dare such a thing.
So the three priestesses could only watch, trembling, as Thea vanished into the inner sanctum.
Diana followed without hesitation — she, after all, was divine blood herself. To her, the gods' temples were open halls, not forbidden tombs. The spirits of Olympus would never bar her.
Hippolyta, too, stepped forward calmly. She didn't even glance at the protesting priests. Antiope said nothing — she simply unsheathed her sword with a metallic hiss and followed her sister inside.
"You can't go in!" the priests cried again as the other Amazons began to move.
"I think I can," the dark-skinned warrior growled, her eyes cold. "I still bear a god-name."
The words silenced the temple. Even she could see that Thea had won that trial — decisively. The priests' schemes had only shamed them.
With a grim snort, she brushed past them, muscled shoulders tight with anger.
The rest of the warriors hesitated but stayed back under the priests' glare, watching anxiously from afar.
The elk led Thea deeper into the island's heart, until they reached the mouth of a vast cave. It paused there, glancing at the group that had followed. It rubbed affectionately against Diana's arm, dipped its head to the Queen, and ignored everyone else.
Then, lowering its horn, it carved a deep line in the dirt — a warning. Do not follow.
The meaning was clear. Even Diana was excluded.
Thea gave her a reassuring nod and followed the elk inside.
The moment her left foot crossed the threshold, she felt it — the same sensation she'd once felt when the Eye of Okeanos exploded. The world tilted. Time twisted.
For an instant she thought, No way. Not again.
But then she realized it wasn't time that had changed — it was space.
The cave dissolved. The air became still and colorless. There was no horizon, no up or down — only silence and eternity.
A voice, soft as wind, echoed through the void.
"Greetings, young traveler of time… I am Artemis."
A shape began to coalesce beside her — a figure neither solid nor shadow, its outline shifting like moonlight on water, a presence both divine and distant, as though one breath could scatter it to dust.