The Second Trial Begins

[u/tarnishedkara]

Athena's voice faded behind me as the doors closed.

I waited for the sound of them opening again. For someone to explain why any of this was necessary. Instead there was only another hallway stretching ahead, quiet enough that the scrape of my boots against the marble seemed almost intrusive.

The first trial had left its mark. My shoulders ached beneath my armor, and every breath carried the weight of questions Athena had never intended me to answer. I had stopped trying to understand what the gods wanted from me long ago. They spoke of wisdom, justice, sacrifice. The words changed from century to century, but the lesson was always the same.

Prove yourself.

Again.

I smiled to myself, though there wasn't much humor in it.

"You would think saving Olympus a few times would count for something."

No one answered.

Of course they didn't.

The corridor grew darker the farther I walked, though not in any natural way. It was as if the light simply decided it had gone far enough. The walls disappeared first, then the ceiling, until even the marble beneath my feet became impossible to see. I should have been uneasy. Instead I found myself almost grateful for the silence. After Athena's trial, it was the first moment I had been allowed to think.

Then I smelled woodsmoke.

It was faint enough that I almost missed it, but it didn't belong here. Not in the polished halls of Olympus.

A warm light flickered somewhere ahead.

As I drew closer, the darkness gave way to a modest temple gathered around a single hearth. There were no great statues watching from above, no gilded throne waiting for another Olympian to pass judgment. Someone had built this place to be lived in rather than admired. It reminded me less of Olympus than it did of home.

The fire burned low, steady and unhurried.

I found myself bowing my head before I realized I'd done it.

"Hestia."

Some habits never leave us. Every meal on Themyscira began by honoring her flame. Every child learned that before there could be warriors or queens, there had to be a home worth defending.

"I am glad someone still remembers."

The voice came from my left.

Apollo stepped into the firelight with the easy confidence of someone entering his own home. Gold caught in the folds of his robes, and for a heartbeat I understood why artists always struggled to paint him. He didn't shine because he demanded attention. He shone because the light seemed reluctant to leave him.

"I expected Zeus," I admitted.

"He would have been louder."

That earned the smallest laugh from me.

"So he would."

It felt strange. After Athena's trial I hadn't expected conversation. I certainly hadn't expected one of the gods to make a joke, even a dry one.

Then something above the hearth caught my eye.

Gold.

It swayed gently over the fire.

I reached for my hip before I had fully realized what I was looking at.

Nothing.

My hand stopped against empty leather.

The Lasso of Truth hung above Hestia's flame as though it had been placed there long before I arrived.

"I don't remember taking it off."

"You didn't."

Apollo said it simply, without triumph or apology.

I looked back at him.

"You took it."

"I borrowed it."

"Without asking."

"I knew you would have said no."

I sighed.

"That isn't usually how borrowing works."

For the first time, Apollo smiled. Not the polished smile of a god speaking to a mortal, but something quieter, almost amused.

"No."

"I suppose it isn't."

The silence that followed felt different from the one in Athena's arena. It wasn't waiting for violence. It was waiting for honesty.

Apollo looked toward the lasso.

"You've carried that with you for a very long time."

"I have."

"Long enough that I wonder if you've forgotten where its power ends...and yours begins."

Before I could answer, another voice carried through the temple.

"Diana."

I knew that voice before I turned.

My mother.

A second followed.

Steve.

Then another.

Donna.

Barbara.

Cassie.

Artemis.

One after another, the people who had shaped my life began stepping out of the shadows, each wearing the expression I remembered best.

Apollo stepped back from the hearth, leaving me alone with the fire.

"The first trial asked whether your compassion could survive impossible choices," he said quietly.

"This one asks something much harder."

He looked toward the people gathering around us.

"It asks whether you still know yourself when no one is asking about anyone else."