They worked for the better part of an hour. The earthquakes were coming more frequently now, and occasionally bits of the cliff would shake free behind them. Alia had tried to help for a while, but eventually she’d given up and leaned against the makeshift raft, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Diana could see just how ashen she looked beneath her brown skin.
She’d seemed better when they were climbing and Diana had been close to her. Your proximity may prolong her life, may even soothe her, but it cannot heal her. She will die, and the island will live. Alia was dying, and though Diana still felt well, she could sense the pain and bewilderment of her sisters through the blood tie that connected all Amazons. What one of them felt, they all felt, and to fight, even to spar, meant to endure the pain of your opponent, even as you dealt the blow. If one of them died…No, Diana would not allow it.
“Hold on, Maeve,” she whispered.
They lashed together the raft as best they could, and then Diana raised the sail, tying strands of Khione’s mane into the knots of the rigging. With each knot, another section of the raft vanished. It would be invisible from the shores of Themyscira and the southern coast of Greece. Diana hoped to put the raft in as close as possible to Gytheio. From there it would be a two-day journey on foot to Therapne. She doubted Alia could make faster time than that in her current state. Perhaps they could acquire one of the machines she’d read about.
“Do you know how to drive an automobile?” asked Diana as she secured the raft’s makeshift rudder.
“A car? Nope. No reason to learn in New York.”
Diana frowned. “Well, even on foot, we should have plenty of time to reach the spring before the start of Hekatombaion.”
“And Hekatombaion is what exactly?”
“The first month in the old Greek calendar. It used to mark the start of the year.”
“Got it. Hekatombaion. Party at the spring. All the cool kids will be there.”
“Who are the cool kids?”
“Ouch. Okay, you and I will be there.”
Diana had the distinct sense that Alia didn’t intend to be at the spring at all, but she could worry about that later. She braided a strand of Khione’s mane into her own hair and did the same for Alia, then helped her board and bent to grab the edges of the raft.
Diana shoved the raft forward into the water. She leapt atop it, feeling the surf surge beneath her. She let out the sail the barest amount and set her hand to the tiller.
As they raced over the sea, Diana glanced back at the little cove, watching it grow smaller with every passing second. It’s not too late, she thought. Turn back. Let the island do its work. Instead, she told Alia to ease the sail and watched the wind fill the canvas. The raft shot forward over the crest of another wave, sliding down the other side with a stomach-lurching drop.
They passed the rocks that marked the boundary and entered the mists. There was no shift in temperature this time, and Diana wasn’t sure she’d know when they’d made the crossing. The waves seemed wilder here, but it was hard to tell. Then Alia tilted her head to the sky and took a deep breath. Diana could see the color in her cheeks returning. Were the earthquakes ceasing on Themyscira? Was Maeve opening her eyes? Or would some sacrifice be demanded to purge the island of Alia’s influence?
Diana looked back at her home. She’d never been this far out before, never seen the island from such a great distance. The mists parted briefly and she could see its shape, the curve of its coastline, the towers of the Epheseum at one end and the great dome of Bana-Mighdall at the other, the crests and valleys of its mountains like a green odalisque.
The mists closed. Themyscira was gone. If she tried to return now, would the island know her? Would she be able to find it? Would it welcome her back?
Back to what? a dark voice inside her asked. What if she could return? What if the Oracle didn’t tell Hippolyta how horribly she’d betrayed her people? If she remained on the island, she would only ever be Hippolyta’s coddled daughter. She would never be allowed to find her way.
Hippolyta could claim that Diana was an Amazon, but before everything else, Diana was her daughter, too precious, too breakable to risk. And that was how the other Amazons would always see her: not as a true sister, but as their queen’s child. She would forever be an outsider, a weakness to exploit.
But if she made things right, if she got Alia to the spring, it wouldn’t just be a mission; it would be a quest, a hero’s journey, like those set before champions in times of old. The line of Warbringers would be broken. Alia would live, war would be prevented, and Diana would have proven herself. By then, Hippolyta and Tek would know all about Diana’s transgression. She would have to face a trial before the Amazon Council, but Diana had to believe she would be forgiven. To stop the cycle of Warbringers? To prevent not just one war but countless future wars? That was a deed worthy of an Amazon. There would be punishment, but surely not exile. You will still have to look Maeve in the eye and tell her that you were the cause of her suffering. That would be the worst punishment, the hardest to endure, and there was no question Diana deserved it.
Of course, she might fail. She might save this one girl and plunge the earth into an age of war, a war that might reach beyond the bounds of the mortal world to her home. Diana remembered the vision of her mother’s body lying lifeless on the field, the accusation in Tek’s dying eyes, the ground turned to ash, the smell of blood and burnt flesh in the air, that hideous creature with the head of a jackal. Her mistake might cost them everything.
No. There had to be a reason she’d been the one to see the Thetis sink, the one to pull Alia from the sea. She’d been given a chance to help bring peace to the world and to end the cycle of war that lived in Alia’s blood. She would not fail. And she would not let fear choose her path.
The mist was cold, and the surf bucked beneath them like a living thing. Diana reached into her pocket and took hold of the heartstone. She could feel its faceted edges hard against her palm.
“Alia,” she called over the wind. “Take my hand.”
Alia lurched across the length of the raft to the stern. She grasped Diana’s hand, wet from rain and sea spray, the heartstone tight between their palms.
“Ready?” Diana asked, keeping her other hand on the tiller.
“Ready,” Alia said with a firm nod.
Diana felt a grin break over her face. “Destiny is waiting.”
She focused on her memory of the map of Greece, the Gulf of Laconia, the divot in its southern shore. Guide us, she willed.
Nothing happened.
Diana had the sudden, mortifying thought that maybe she’d misunderstood how the heartstone worked. What if her will wasn’t strong enough to direct it? They’d be lost on the sea, stuck on this raft, and she would never see Themyscira again.
Then the raft began to spin, slowly at first, gaining momentum. The waters rose, turning in a spiral, forming a wall around them—a column of gray sea and writhing foam, churning faster and faster, higher and higher until the sky was barely a pinprick of light far above.
With a loud crack, the sail ripped free and vanished up the flume. The raft shook, breaking apart beneath them.
“Don’t let go!” shouted Diana, holding tight to Alia.
“Are you kidding?” Alia screamed back.
They were soaked through, huddled over the rudder on their knees, their palms pressed together so tightly, Diana could feel the edges of the jewel cutting into her flesh.
Tek was right. The gods are angry. They’d never wanted her on the island. It was the worst kind of hubris to think they’d sent Alia to her as a chance at greatness. They’d sent Alia as a lure, and now she and the Warbringer would die together, consumed by the great mouth of the sea.
The roar of the churning water filled her ears, rattling her skull, the wind and salt lashing at her with such force that she could not keep her eyes open. She huddled against Alia, felt her pulse—or was it Diana’s own?—in the press of their palms.
All at once, the world went silent. The roar did not quiet but simply vanished. Diana opened her eyes as the column fell in a great tumble of water, drenching them and sending the raft rocking as the sea sloshed beneath them. Mist clung to the broken stump of the mast as the raft swayed, then stopped, the waters eerily still.
They were shrouded in darkness. Had night fallen in the mortal world? Had they lost or gained time when they used the heartstone?
They were still moving, carried by a strong tide, but the surf had calmed to the barest ripple.
Diana and Alia stared at each other. Alia’s hair hung in a wet mass of braids, her eyes wide and round as newly minted coins. Diana suspected she looked just as stunned.
“Did it work?” Alia said.
Slowly, they unclasped their hands. The heartstone was covered in their blood. Diana wiped it clean on her wet trousers and slipped it into her pocket.
She looked around. The raft was nearly half the size it had been when they left the island. The mast was in pieces, bits of rope and rigging hanging from it limply. Through the mists, Diana saw the first twinkle of lights. They were brighter than the lanterns of Themyscira, steadier than torchlight, hard pinpricks that glinted like captured stars—white, pale blue, gold, silvery green.
“It worked,” Diana said, only half believing it herself. “It actually worked.” She’d done it. She’d left Themyscira. She’d crossed over into the World of Man.
The lights multiplied around them on both sides, more of them than she ever could have imagined. Diana could hear water slapping at the sides of the raft, and something else, deep and resonant—ships’ horns, a sound she’d only ever heard from a great distance on the island.
But the lights were too close, too bright, too plentiful. Had she brought them that near to a city? And why did the Ionian Sea feel flat as a millpond?
The mists cleared, and Diana glimpsed another light burning high in the sky, different from the others, a vibrant yellow torch held aloft by the statue of an Amazon, her stern face framed by a crown like a sunburst, her gown hanging in gray-green folds of weathered copper. Behind her, Diana could see the lights of a vast bridge.
“This isn’t right,” Diana said, standing slowly. “This isn’t Greece.”
Alia threw her head back and laughed, a sound of pure exuberance and relief and…pride.
“No way,” Alia whispered. She spread her arms wide, as if she could take the whole city into them, as if all of these lights had been lit to greet only her. “Welcome to the greatest city in the world, Diana. This is New York.” She whooped and turned her face to the sky. “This is home!”