Thea changed into her new outfit and followed Diana at a run.
"Why are we coming here? Isn't the temple the other way?" she asked as they stopped before a massive cavern. The place looked oddly familiar—close to where they had once had their rather frank philosophical discussion a few days ago.
"This is where all our sisters were first born," Diana said simply, stepping inside without further explanation.
So the Amazons were literally made from this dirt? Thea's eyes flicked across the stone walls, the mineral seams, the damp soil underfoot. Maybe I should take a sample home for testing...
They wound their way through narrow tunnels for several minutes before the cavern suddenly opened up—
"Whoa—this place is huge!" Thea gasped. The cave stretched like an underground plaza, the ceiling twenty meters high. Hundreds of Amazon warriors knelt in unison, chanting an ancient hymn in low, rhythmic tones.
Queen Hippolyta opened her eyes as they arrived and gestured toward a shallow pool before her. "Step into the water."
Thea took two steps, but Diana stopped her.
"What now?"
Diana tilted her chin toward the pool and whispered, "Clothes. You have to bathe."
Thea blinked. "Right now? No changing room? You mean I just—take it all off and walk in?"
Diana nodded firmly. No negotiation.
Oh my god… you people really take that whole "ancient Greece" thing seriously.
But the bow was drawn—no turning back. Thea grit her teeth, muttered a silent prayer to modern modesty, and stripped. Fine! They're all women anyway—no big deal, right?
She handed her clothes to Niobe, her newly appointed servant. Having renounced her divine name, Niobe wasn't allowed to participate in the ritual—she could only stand by and watch.
"Shoes, too!" Diana reminded.
Thea sighed and kicked them off. The cave wasn't cold, but she could still feel every chill of the air and every pair of eyes that followed her. Thirty meters to the pool—normally she'd cover that in a second. Now it felt like a thirty-minute trek.
She could feel their gazes: on her back, her legs, and plenty of… other places.
Her bare feet pressed against sharp gravel, and though her god-touched body wouldn't be harmed even by walking over blades, she still felt phantom stings beneath her soles. Her nerves were stretched tight, her face composed only through sheer willpower.
At last, she reached the pool. At Hippolyta's signal, Thea stepped in, sinking until the cool water reached her neck—and only then dared to breathe again.
Thankfully, the bathing was brief; they couldn't very well have fifteen hundred Amazons watching her scrub herself raw for half an hour.
A quick rinse, and she was pulled out again, half-dressed, half-dazed. Then came the chanting—a long, ceremonial hymn in praise of Zeus. Fine, Thea thought. The old guy's arrow quiver was decent enough, I'll humor him. She hummed along, more or less in tune.
Queen Hippolyta led the formal welcome, and one by one—fifteen hundred and fifty sisters—came forward to offer blessings. By the time it ended an hour later, Thea's hair was nearly dry again. As the crowd dispersed, she exhaled in relief. Finally done.
But then—
"Diana, take Artemis to the temple to leave her image," Hippolyta commanded.
Thea froze. There's more?
When they reached the temple and spoke with several Amazons, the truth dawned on her—this "image" was a statue. One to stand beside the goddess herself. If this were still the age of divine worship, she'd practically be halfway to godhood already.
Well, Artemis has treated me decently—pet, bow, blessings… having my statue next to hers isn't embarrassing. So Thea agreed without hesitation.
She shouldn't have.
"What do you mean, take my top off?! It's just a statue!" Thea stared in disbelief.
The sculptor—a capable woman who could pass for a professional artist even in the modern world—gave a helpless smile. She'd already spent half an hour explaining. From art theory to ritual symbolism to religious doctrine, she'd covered it all. She even took Thea on a tour of the hall to show her that every single statue wore little more than a strip of cloth around the waist.
Seeing Thea still hesitate, the sculptor launched another passionate speech—about aesthetics, honor, and the power of faith.
Thea tuned most of it out… except that last part. The power of faith?
That got her attention. Divine faith might not crown new gods anymore, but belief still carried strength. Over time, that strength accumulated—and Thea, who planned to return to her original era a century later, could convert that into a serious amount of divine energy.
"All right," she said after a moment's thought. "But can we at least do this inside the temple?"
"Impossible!" the sculptor gasped. "The dust would defile the sanctity of the temple! The plaza is perfect—open air, sunlight, inspiration!"
She was immovable.
Thea weighed her options and sighed. Fine. For faith energy, I'll risk it. She glanced up at the sky. The gods are gone, the Watchtower won't launch for another hundred years… no one's watching.
So, for the second time that day, she removed her armor. Wearing only a linen wrap around her waist, she stepped into the sunlit plaza.
Then came the final indignity—the quiver strap. It was slung diagonally across her chest, the leather strap pressing right between... well, two very sensitive points. She tugged at it, adjusted it several times, until it was just barely tolerable. Then she raised the Silvermoon Bow, trying to look fearless and divine while her heartbeat pounded like a drum.
"Hold that pose! Perfect!" the sculptor called, picking up her hammer and chisel.
Three hours later, Thea was still holding the same stance. The sculptor was nowhere near finished. Thea's arms ached, her breath steady only through sheer control. She'd tried casting a Haste spell on the woman, but the island's magic field instantly dispelled it.
So… only self-casting works here. Great.
As the sun dipped low, Amazons finishing their training passed by the plaza. Each one paused to salute the new "goddess" in mid-pose.
It was torture. Holding a heroic expression while half the island admired her "divine form" was—without question—the most excruciating acting exercise of her life.
So Thea did what she always did under pressure—
She buried herself in thought.
If she couldn't move, she'd at least brainstorm new combat techniques.
Anything to keep from dying of embarrassment.