The sea is the first thing I notice. Even before the hatch opens on the Flying Fox, it’s there—deep and ancient and endless, crashing against the cliffs like it’s testing the strength of Themyscira itself. Wind whips across the deck, salted and sharp, carrying the scent of olive trees and sun-warmed stone. It smells like history. Like legacy. Like a place older than anything I’ve ever known.

Diana pilots us in low. She’s all quiet focus, her brow drawn in concentration as the sleek jet circles one of the high landing platforms. Themysciran architecture rises around us like it was carved from the bones of gods—ivory pillars, domed towers, golden accents that catch the sunlight just so. Everything feels mythic here, untouched by time. A hidden world that breathes strength and discipline into anyone who steps foot on its soil.

And Kara… Kara’s somewhere in that ancient sprawl of temples and training grounds.

It’s been three weeks since I brought her here.

Three weeks since she crash-landed in my life like a comet—fifteen years old, terrified, and still reeling from the loss of a world I barely remember myself. She was all raw energy and stubborn fire, barely restrained under the surface. Her heart’s good. I saw that right away. But she didn’t understand Earth. Not really. Not the way I had to. Not the way she needed to if she was going to be part of this world… and protect it.

So the League and I made a choice. Themyscira. A place of warriors. Of truth. Of honor. A place where her strength could be sharpened—and her compassion, too.

The Fox lands with a hiss and a lurch of hydraulics. I take a breath, press a hand against my chest to still the ache there. Strange, isn’t it? I’ve held the weight of mountains. Pulled satellites out of orbit with my bare hands. But nothing feels as heavy as three weeks without seeing her.

The hatch lowers. Sunlight spills into the ship like liquid gold, and then—

There she is.

Kara.

Hair a little longer, cheeks a little flushed from the sun. She’s wearing Amazonian training leathers, a crimson sash at her hip, and dust on her boots. But it’s still her. Same bright eyes. Same reckless smile. She’s running full-speed now, two girls flanking her—fellow trainees, no doubt. One of them has a spear strapped to her back. The other’s laughing like Kara just said something outrageous.

She barrels into me before I can brace for it.

“Oof—easy there,” I manage, catching her in my arms as she crashes into my chest.

She clutches me tight, arms flung around my waist like she’s anchoring herself to the planet. Her voice muffles against my shirt.

“You took forever! I thought you forgot about me!”

I chuckle. It comes out thick, rougher than I mean it to. My hand curls around the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair like I’m making sure she’s real. “I could never forget you, Kara.”

She leans back just enough to look up at me, still holding on like she’s not ready to let go. “Can I come home now? I’ve been really good, I promise. I haven’t broken anything in, like, a week.”

Diana steps beside us, arms crossed, amused. “She’s exaggerating. She only flattened one statue—and the sisters say it barely counts.”

Kara scowls. “It was already cracked!”

I shake my head, smiling despite myself.

I pull her close again, just for a second. Just to feel her heartbeat and know she’s safe. Stronger. Grounded. The wind rushes through the trees behind her, and somewhere nearby, I hear the ring of steel as other Amazons spar in the distance.

This place has changed her. Tempered her. But she’s still my cousin. Still my responsibility. Still a piece of Krypton that the universe, somehow, let me keep.

And as she looks up at me again, hopeful and grinning, I realize something else—

Maybe I’m the one who needed these three weeks. To learn how to let her grow.

“Come on,” I say quietly, guiding her toward the edge of the platform, her friends trailing behind. “Let’s walk. You can tell me everything.”

She beams.

And just like that, I remember how good it is to have family.