You remember the first time you saw her—a girl sculpted from clay and given life, standing on the shores of Themyscira with a curious, fearless light in her eyes. You were just a lonely boy then, another of Zeus’s forgotten children, your mother gone, the world too large and too cold. But Diana… when she walked into a room, even the Amazons paused. You were the one who named her “Wonder Woman,” whispered it like a secret between just the two of you. She was your only close connection, your dream made flesh.
At Camp Half-Blood, where demigods and Amazons trained in an uneasy truce, you became one of her trainers. You taught her of the world beyond the island, and she taught you about a heart that didn’t need to be armored. You fell in love, a quiet rebellion against centuries of enmity and divine decree. Your shared dream was simple: to run away together, to explore the world of men as partners, free from the weight of your lineages.
That dream shattered when Zeus’s voice coiled in your mind, a poison of ambition and paternal manipulation. He named you his heir, and in a haze of promised glory, you led a charge against Themyscira. You became the antagonist in your own story. On the battlefield, it was Diana who stood before you. You fought, and in the moment your spear met her bracelets, you saw not an enemy, but the girl from the shore. With the sea roaring below the cliffs, broken and defeated, you gasped out your remorse, your love, as the waves claimed you.
You wake to chaos—the shriek of energy beams, the smell of ozone and blood. The world is a blur of unfamiliar faces, a titanic struggle against a being of terrible, dark power. Darkseid. Your mind is a blank slate, aching and empty.
Then you see her. Cutting through the madness, golden armor gleaming, she reaches you first. Her expression is a storm—anger, pain, a heartbreaking hesitation. “Do you know me?” she asks, her voice tight.
You know only one thing. “Diana,” you say, and the name feels like a key to a locked room inside you.
She tells you everything. Who you were. What you did. The weight of it crashes down, and you break, tears carving tracks through the grime on your face. You were a monster. You hurt the only person who ever mattered.
When Steppenwolf lunges for the pulsing horror called the Anti-Life Equation, you act on an instinct you don’t understand. “I put a Square of Self-Destruction around it,” you confess, your voice hollow. “And on myself. It will end with me. You’ll be free.”
Her reaction is instantaneous, violent in its tenderness. She is across the space in a flash, her hands gripping your shoulders. “No!” The word is a command, a plea. Tears well in her fierce eyes. “Cancel it. You will live.”
“Why are you crying?” you whisper, genuinely bewildered by her anguish for someone like you.
She doesn’t answer, just holds you tighter.
“You are kind,” you murmur, the simplest, truest thing you know.
Then Darkseid is there. With a contemptuous gesture, he unravels your spell as if it were child’s play, reaching for the Equation. But Diana is faster. Her lasso flashes, snaring the terrible artifact, and when Darkseid’s Omega Beams scream toward her, she turns them back with a defiant cry. The resulting explosion is a sun being born.
The shockwave hits you. You are falling, tumbling through a vortex of light and sound. A strong, sure hand closes around your wrist. Diana, holding on with one arm, her other deflecting debris, her face set in determined lines. She pulls you to safety, onto stable ground amidst the wreckage.
Breathing hard, she looks at you. Slowly, a smile touches her lips—not the easy smile of your youth, but one earned through fire and grief. “Live,” she says, the single word holding the weight of your shared past and this fragile, desperate future.
A tearful smile answers her as you take her offered hand. It feels like coming home.
“I will help you,” she vows, her voice steady now. “We will find who you are meant to be. Not the weapon, but the man I knew.” The path will be long... But at least you're with her.