Issue 7: "Down the Widening Gyre"

Diana narrowed her eyes, holding tight to her golden lasso. On the other end of it, Ares, the God of War glared back at her. At her side stood Steve Trevor and the lionman who was now revealed as the real Hippolytus, and behind them the brawl between the Amazons and the bestimorphs had ended, everyone holding their breath when the God of War had been revealed. The witch Circe watched it all with wide-eyes and an open-mouth, basking in salacious amusement.

“Lord Ares…?” Diana breathed finally. “But why…? Why this masquerade?”

The long absent God of War bristled at the presumption of being under a mortal’s sway, but the girdle of Hestia forced him to respond truthfully.

“Because Nemesis must be stopped.” He intoned. “My Lord Father Zeus foresaw this time, and bade me secure the Syrinx. I would entrust this task to no other, not even you, Amazon.”

Though the golden lasso compelled him to tell the truth, it did not leave him helpless. He grabbed the golden lariat and began pulling on it, dragging Diana towards him. She braced herself, but even her strength was no match for Ares’.

He pulled her in close to him, seizing her face in one giant, mailed hand.

“This is a bigger game than you know, little princess.” He told the struggling Diana. She glared defiantly back at him, refusing to loosen her own grip on the lasso binding him. “The Olympian traitor has thrown the dice in a colossal gamble, with nothing less than the suzerainty of the cosmos at stake. Nemesis is a distraction! A deadly one, and one that must be dealt with, but not the real threat!”

A shot rang out, a bullet ricocheting off Ares’ black helm. The War God looked up.

Steve Trevor did not lower the .45 he aimed at Ares.

“Put. Her. Down.”

Deep laughter with real humor echoed from the depth of Ares’ helm.

“Ah, my former puppet, I forgot how amusing you could be.” Ares chuckled. “You must know that no mortal weapon can harm me. I am the father of them all!”

Despite the truth of it, Steve still did not lower his weapon.

Ares turned back to Diana. “Release me.” He commanded, squeezing her face.

“No.” She shot back, barely able to talk around the hand gripping her face. “Tell me first, what is the real threat!”

The indignity of being made to answer to a mortal was almost enough to allow Ares to overthrow the Fire of Hestia. Almost.

He hurled Diana from him in frustration, and she crashed into a pillar with one of the smoking braziers--- but she did not release her hold of the lasso. Her eyes were hard stones of determination as she whirled back on him, tugging hard on the golden rope connecting them.

“What is it?” She yelled.

Ares let out a gurgling cry, then snarled at her: “Amazon, have you never wondered why Paradise Island is so important, so vital to the Gods? It lies under the aegis of Zeus, protected by his power, but the King is dead--- and now another throws for his crown! The key to power was long ago entrusted to the Amazons to guard, though they knew it not!”

Diana climbed to her feet. “Are you saying that awakening Nemesis was all just a distraction to whatever is going to happen on Paradise Island...?”

“A distraction, but a necessary one.” Ares growled. “The traitor had to remove my Lord Father, which he was not powerful enough to do on his own. He needed Nemesis and her Furies for that. And with Zeus dead, the throne of the gods is empty and ready to be claimed. But the Olympians will recognize no lord that does not control the power of the artifact hidden on Paradise Island!”

“This is all about a bid for power?” Diana frowned. “The opening of Doom’s Doorway and the war on Paradise Island? The murder of Zeus and my mother?”

“Not just power, Princess.” Hissed Ares, holding up one spiked fist. “Ultimate power! The throne of Olympus! The Kingship of the Gods!”

Diana felt her blood chill. What Ares was talking about was a reordering of the cosmos itself. For all his foibles and faults, Zeus had been a benevolent and wise deity, but with all his power in the hands of one who would unleash Nemesis… There was no telling what chaos or evil would ensue!

“Lord Ares, please listen to me.” Diana begged. “We both want the same thing: to stop the traitor! You must tell me who it is, and what is this artifact on Paradise Island that holds the key to the gods’ power?”

And as Ares began to answer her, a long piercing screech was heard from overhead. All looked up and watched as the Furies descended upon them!

Like birds of prey, Tisiphone, Alecto and Megaera fell upon the isle of the witch.

“No!” Circe shrieked, horrified at their approach: nothing survived the assault of the Kindly Ones. The witch gestured broadly with her hands, sending a bolt of power rocketing skyward. Tisiphone was engulfed in flame, but came on like a living comet.

For a brief moment, Diana was struck dumb by the sight. Here they were the slayers of Zeus, the harriers of Nemesis. How could any stand against them when they had already slain the king of the gods?

“Release me, Amazon.” Ares commanded Wonder Woman, a broad, double-headed battleaxe appearing in his hands. His attention was all on the approaching foe. “Whatever you think of me, these things slew my father, and I would make an answer to that.”

Without hesitation, Diana flicked her wrist, and loosed the girdle of Hestia from around the War God. Then Ares did what Ares did best: he leapt into battle. The flaming arrow that was Tisiphone screamed towards him, and he met her in the air over Circe’s house, swinging his axe. The impact was as loud as an explosion. Tisiphone, invincible against kinslayers and prey that had earned her wrath by their deeds, was vulnerable to an opponent innocent of those particular sins. She was flung backward, into Alecto, and the two Furies howled as they arced over the horizon. But Ares did not escape the encounter unscathed. Tisiphone was vulnerable, but hardly harmless. His blow against her had shattered his battleaxe, and left him momentarily stunned--- long enough for Megaera to barrel into him. The two fell to earth, grappling.

Circe turned upon Diana urgently.

“Our bargain still stands, Princess! Bring me the Deathmask of Hecate and I will give you the Syrinx!”

Wonder Woman was appalled. “Circe, are you mad? The fate of the universe lies in the balance here, and you still scramble for power?”

The witch wore a cynical smile and said: “In this game of gods and mortals, we are all players, even you, Princess. Make up your mind quick. Tisiphone and Alecto won’t be out of action long, and even Ares can’t stand alone against Megaera.”

Clenching her fists, Diana had no other choice.

“Damn you, Circe! We have a bargain. Cast your spell, send me to the Underworld. But when this is all over, there will be a reckoning between us.”

The witch raised her arms dramatically, magic blazing at her fingertips.

“Princess, I’m counting on that.” She spat back, then with a single utterance cast the spell that sent Diana to the land of the dead…

In another place, a colossus on a cold stone throne, stirred and began to rise.

The terrible Lady Adrastaea, She Whom None Can Escape, Nemesis to all that were or are, looked out upon the cosmos--- and the cosmos trembled!

At last she came to the looming palace of the Lord of the Shades. It shone with a pale gleaming that knew nothing of warmth. And someone was waiting for Diana, but it was not the Lord of the Hall. It was his wife.

Persephone was lovely in the way a marble statue was--- all cold beauty and no feeling. The lady waited for Diana by a towering obelisk, at the base of which was a plain stone box. The box was surrounded by the statues of three noble figures: Minos, Rhadamnthys and Aeacus--- the Three Judges of the Underworld.

“Lady Persephone.” Diana inclined her head and spoke respectfully. “I humbly beseech your aid and that of your royal husband, Lord Hades. Terrible events are afoot, and I must have the Deathmask of Hecate.”

Persephone only stared at Diana, her expression blank, but her eyes forlorn. The lady had a sad history. Once, she was the much beloved daughter of Zeus and Demeter, as vibrant and as full of life as springtime itself. Until, one day, she was spied by Hades, and the Lord of the Shades fell in love with her. He abducted her, and took her to live with him in his grey realm, allowing her only part of the year to spend amongst the living in the warmth of the sun.

“Please, my lady. Is this the ossuary of Hecate?” Diana indicated the ancient stone box at the base of the pillar. “I must have the mask!”

Again, Persephone made no answer, but the look she now directed at Diana was full of fatalistic resignation.

Frustrated, and feeling that time was running out, Diana went to the box without leave from the lady, and barely a glance for the stone figures of the Judges, and was about to pry it open when she noted the writing on it.



From behind her, Diana heard a low, rumbling growl. She turned slowly, knowing what she would find: a monster waited for her. A massive dog, with three snarling heads and a tail that ended in a serpent’s mouth was preparing to spring on her!

It was Cerberus. The Hound of Hades.

Dawn did not come to Paradise Island.

The sun rose, but it was blotted out by swollen black clouds. The Amazons awoke that day, beheld the skies and knew in the pit of their stomachs that something was gravely wrong.

General Phillipus sent out riders to the Bronze Gates, but even the scattered parties of the spawn army cowered beneath the foreboding skies.

There was a heaviness on the air, an imposed silence as even nature held its breath and waited.

Then Penelope appeared. Most feared to leave their homes, so the streets and avenues of Themyscira were all but deserted. Penelope danced and gamboled a frenzied jig up through the city, watched by worried eyes in growing trepidation. Her sisters called to her, begged her to stop. But she didn’t answer them, only cavorted more wildly, even lasciviously.

Some wept at the site of her; some clutched another in some unspoken feeling of dread. All waited, feeling that something big was imminent.

Then Penelope called to her sisters. She sang their names in an otherwordly, sing-song voice. “Come Io, and Epione, and Timandra.” She called. “Come Mala, and Clio and Cydippe.” She beckoned them.

And as if against their will, the Amazons heeded the call of their deranged sister. One by one they opened their doors, descended from their homes and hearths. Even the Lost Amazons newly arrived she called, summoning them by name: “Come Phthia, and Mnemosyne, and Xebele.”

All of Themyscira eventually turned out, and soon there was a long procession, with Penelope at its head, winding through the streets of the city. Like a weird pied piper, she led them, still dancing madly, to the steps of the Panoptikon. The Amazons watched and waited as their priestess skipped up the marble steps, gyrating and flaying about--- until at last she fell down, prostrating herself--- no, abasing herself!--- at the feet of a figure emerging from the shadows of the Temple.

Lord Hades gazed disdainfully upon the assembled Amazons, sparing no glance for the one gasping at his feet. He allowed himself to be seen in all his dark, divine glory, a god come to earth. And draped across his chest was what he had come for, what all his efforts had been for, the repository of Olympian divinity and the emblem of cosmic suzerainty. It seemed like nothing more than the downy-soft hide of a lamb, but the Golden Fleece was imbued with a sanctity so profound that even Hades was humbled by it…