Wonder Woman’s fingers grazed the edge of the golden girdle—its radiant aura flickering like lightning in a storm. But before her grip could tighten, a silver blur streaked past.

“What—?” she gasped, her eyes widening with dawning horror.*

In a whirl of psychic energy and shimmering quills, Silver the Hedgehog skidded to a triumphant halt at the edge of the temple steps, holding the sacred girdle high above his head like a prize from Olympus.

He grinned sheepishly. “Sorry, Queen Diana!” he called, the psychic field around him already crackling in preparation for his escape.

Diana’s jaw clenched. Her fists trembled as the weight of the trick sank in. Her lasso snapped to her side, humming with unspent fury. And then—

“SILVEEEERRR!” she screamed, a voice torn from the depths of wrath and wounded honor, echoing across Themyscira with the force of a goddess scorned.*