Disclaimer: I own nothing of the DC Universe.
A reincarnated soul does not possess adult intelligence at birth. Instead, it grows up experiencing a new life, with old memories gradually resurfacing. The soul must navigate childhood with the fresh eyes of an infant, gradually reconciling past knowledge with new experiences. This blend of old and new shapes their identity.
o-o-o-o-o
The secluded chamber was dimly lit, flickering torches casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls. Outside, a storm brewed, the distant rumble of thunder echoing the tension within. Penelope stood at the foot of the makeshift birthing bed, her expression a mask of concern and determination. Myrina, her face twisted in pain, gripped the edges of the bed with white-knuckled hands.
Sweat poured down Myrina's face, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her normally fierce eyes, the eyes of an Amazon warrior, were glazed with the agony of childbirth. Penelope and Menalippe, the only one's privy to Myrina's secret, exchanged worried glances. The knowledge they carried weighed heavily on their minds.
The air was thick with the earthy scent of the herbs Menalippe had burned, intended to ease the labor pains and purify the space. Yet, nothing could ease the tension that crackled like the impending storm outside. The heavy stone walls of the chamber seemed to close in, reflecting the gravity of the moment.
Myrina's screams crescendoed with each contraction. Penelope, usually stoic and composed, felt a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. Her Amazon training had prepared her for many battles, but this—bringing new life into the world—was a different kind of battle, one she could not fight with a sword.
Myrina let out a final, guttural cry, and then silence. For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. Penelope leaned forward, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension. The silence was broken by the first, fragile cries of a newborn. Myrina collapsed back onto the bed, her body trembling with exhaustion.
Menalippe quickly wrapped the infant girl in a soft, woven blanket, handing her to Myrina, who gazed at her daughter with a fierce protectiveness. "Grail," she whispered, her voice a mix of love and desperation. "You will be strong."
Penelope's heart softened for a moment as she watched Myrina cradle the tiny girl. But then, another cry pierced the air. Penelope's eyes darted to the second child, a boy. Her gaze hardened, and she couldn't suppress the unease that bubbled up inside her.
Menalippe cleaned and wrapped the boy, handing him to Myrina with a knowing look. "Gaius," Myrina said softly, her voice trembling. The weight of his name hung in the air.
Penelope's thoughts raced. A male child born to an Amazon. It was against their traditions, their very way of life. She felt an instinctive mistrust, a shadow of doubt creeping into her heart. Her Amazon background had ingrained in her a wariness of men, a belief in the purity of their matriarchal society.
As Myrina held both of her children, tears streamed down her face. She had sacrificed so much for this moment, for these lives. Penelope couldn't ignore the love in Myrina's eyes, but she couldn't shake the sense of foreboding either. Her hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of her dagger, a reflexive gesture born of years of training and mistrust.
Menalippe's brow furrowed as she began to tidy up, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something monumental had just occurred. The storm outside seemed to intensify, lightning flashing through the small window, illuminating the room in stark, brief bursts.
Penelope's mind was a whirlwind. She glanced at the boy, then back at the girl. Her gaze hardened, settling on Gaius.
Suddenly, Menalippe stopped moving. Her eyes rolled back, turning a stark, eerie white. She stood frozen, trembling slightly. Penelope and Myrina exchanged worried glances, recognizing the signs. Menalippe was having a vision.
Myrina clutched Grail closer to her chest, her face a mix of concern and fear. "Menalippe, what do you see?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Menalippe's voice, hollow and distant, began to speak. "A great city, a bastion of green light, crumbles under the onslaught of a dark force. The sky is filled with shadows and the cries of a thousand voices. A champion of light, her eyes blazing with fury, turns her wrath upon a figure clad in darkness."
Penelope felt a chill run down her spine. She could picture the destruction, the fall of a powerful city, the rage of a hero against a dark force. Her gaze flicked to Gaius, her suspicion deepening.
Menalippe continued, her voice growing more urgent. "A star system, once free and untamed, is conquered. A figure rises, grasping a ring of avarice, his heart consumed by greed and power. He stands triumphant, his eyes alight with a sinister glow."
Myrina's grip on her children tightened. She could sense the growing danger, the implications of Menalippe's vision weighing heavily on her heart. The storm outside seemed to mirror the turmoil within the chamber, lightning flashing ominously.
"The defenders of our world, united and resolute, stand as the last barrier against the encroaching darkness. They face an overwhelming force, led by a figure of immense power and malevolence, their eyes fixed on the horizon where doom approaches."
Penelope and Myrina were both silent, their faces pale. The vision painted a picture of relentless darkness, of a struggle that would shape the fate of the universe.
Menalippe's eyes returned to normal, and she staggered, catching herself on the edge of the bed. She was visibly shaken, her breathing ragged. "One of them," she whispered, her voice cracking. "One of these children will bring this darkness, and the other must stand against it."
Myrina's eyes filled with tears as she looked down at her twins, love and fear warring in her heart. Penelope's resolve hardened further. She knew what had to be done to protect their world, but the path forward was fraught with uncertainty and danger.
The air in the chamber was heavy with the weight of Menalippe's vision. The future had been cast into turmoil, and the fates of Gaius and Grail were now entwined with the destiny of the universe.
Penelope's mind raced, her Amazonian instincts clashing with the horror of what the vision foretold. Her background as an Amazon warrior told her that the threat must be eliminated. She had spent years honing her skills to protect her people from any danger. And yet, standing before her was not an enemy warrior, but an innocent child, one she had helped bring into the world.
She looked at Gaius, swaddled and peaceful, and a pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. The vision had shown such darkness, such devastation—could she really condemn this boy to such a fate? But the images were clear in her mind: a city crumbling under dark forces, a hero's rage, and a universe at war. The thought of allowing that future to come to pass was unbearable.
Penelope glanced at Myrina, seeing the love and hope in her eyes. Myrina had conceived these children to stand against a dark god, to save humanity. How could she now ask her friend to sacrifice her son? The bond they shared as Amazons, as sisters, would be shattered. Myrina's heart would break, and their friendship might never recover.
Yet, Penelope's duty to protect their world was paramount. The vision weighed heavily on her, each horrific detail fueling her conviction. She had always believed in their sacred mission, and the Amazons' recent divergence from their path had driven her to take drastic measures. Myrina's act of desperation, conceiving a child with their greatest enemy to use as a weapon against him, was born from that same belief.
Penelope's thoughts twisted and turned, a storm of conflicting emotions. She didn't want to kill an innocent child, but Gaius was no ordinary boy. He was the son of Darkseid, and the vision had all but confirmed that he would be the harbinger of destruction. Her Amazon training screamed at her to take action, to eliminate the threat before it could grow.
She felt the cold weight of her dagger at her side, a tool she had used countless times in the service of her people. But never before had the decision to use it been so fraught with personal turmoil. The future of the universe, the safety of her sisters, and the very essence of their sacred mission hung in the balance.
Penelope took a deep breath, steadying herself. The boy had to die. It was a necessary sacrifice to ensure the light would prevail, to protect their world from the darkness. She could not ignore the vision, nor could she allow her emotions to cloud her judgment.
Finally, with a heavy heart, she turned to Myrina. "Myrina," she began, her voice steady but filled with sorrow, "the boy... Gaius... he has to die."
Myrina's eyes widened in shock, the words hitting her like a physical blow. Penelope could see the devastation and disbelief in her friend's gaze, the love for her son warring with the grim reality of the prophecy.
"You can't be serious, Penelope," Myrina whispered, clutching Gaius closer. "He's just a baby. These visions... they can be wrong."
Penelope shook her head, her expression stern. "Myrina, you conceived these children to use against Darkseid. You knew the risks, the stakes. We cannot ignore Menalippe's vision. The boy must be stopped before it's too late."
Myrina's eyes flashed with defiance. "But what if the vision is wrong? What if we can change it? He's my son, Penelope. How can you ask me to kill him based on something that might not come to pass?"
Penelope felt a surge of frustration. "Menalippe's prophecies are always true, Myrina. Always. She saw Hercules' betrayal. She foresaw this island's creation. She even saw these births! We cannot risk this war happening too. The vision was clear—one child will bring darkness, and we can't afford to gamble with the universe's fate."
Menalippe, who had been silent, nodded in agreement. "Penelope is right, Myrina. My visions do not lie. The stakes are too high to ignore this warning. We must act to prevent the future I saw."
Myrina's grip tightened on Gaius, tears streaming down her face. "I can't do it, Menalippe. I can't condemn my son to death based on a vision. There must be another way."
Penelope stepped forward, her tone urgent. "And what if there isn't another way? What if your hesitation costs us everything? You've seen what Darkseid is capable of. We can't let that darkness take root in your son."
Myrina looked at Grail, who was nestled against her chest, then back at Gaius. "I know what Darkseid is, Penelope. That's why I did this. To create a weapon against him. But I can't believe that my son is destined for evil. There has to be hope."
Penelope's expression softened slightly, but her resolve remained firm. "Hope won't stop the darkness, Myrina. We have to act. If we don't, we could be dooming countless lives to suffering and destruction."
Menalippe stepped closer, her voice gentle but resolute. "Myrina, I understand your pain. But we must think of the greater good. One life, even the life of your son, cannot outweigh the safety of the universe."
Myrina looked between her two friends, her heart breaking. "I... I can't..."
Penelope reached out, placing a hand on Myrina's shoulder. "I know this is hard. But you must see reason. We cannot let emotion cloud our judgment. This is about more than just us, more than just him. It's about protecting everything we hold dear."
The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the decision pressing down on all three women. The storm outside mirrored the turmoil within the chamber, lightning flashing through the small window, illuminating their conflicted faces.
Myrina was silent for a moment, her eyes searching the faces of Penelope and Menalippe. The weight of the decision bore down on her, but she knew what had to be done. She took a deep breath and gave a stoic nod, her expression hardening with resolve. She had to protect the universe and ensure her daughter could fulfill her destiny to defeat Darkseid.
Penelope felt a surge of conflicting emotions—relief mingled with sorrow—as she saw Myrina's reluctant acceptance. With a heavy heart, she unsheathed her dagger, the blade gleaming ominously in the flickering torchlight. She moved slowly toward Gaius, her steps heavy with the gravity of the act she was about to commit.
Just as Penelope reached out to take Gaius, a deep, resonant hum filled the chamber. The sound vibrated through the walls and floor, a noise unlike any they had heard before. Myrina's eyes widened in recognition and fear, but Penelope and Menalippe were frozen in confusion, not knowing what the sound meant but feeling the dread it carried.
Before Penelope could react, a blinding light erupted in the room, accompanied by a deafening boom. The air crackled with energy, and Penelope's heart raced as she spun around, dagger clutched tightly in her hand. The light faded to reveal a gaping portal, its edges shimmering with an unnatural glow.
From the portal stepped three figures. The first was an older woman, her face twisted into a cruel, mocking smile. Her presence radiated malevolence, and her eyes gleamed with sadistic delight. She held herself with the arrogance of someone who saw the world and all its inhabitants as beneath her.
Flanking her were two warriors, both exuding an aura of lethal danger. One was tall and muscular, with a whip coiled at her side and a fierce determination etched into her features. The other was slender and lithe, her eyes cold and calculating, twin blades gleaming at her sides. They moved with a predatory grace, their intent clear in every step.
Penelope's breath caught in her throat, her instincts screaming at her to protect the children and her sisters. Myrina stepped back, clutching Grail tighter to her chest, her eyes darting between the intruders and her friends.
The older woman's voice cut through the tension like a knife, dripping with condescension. "I am Granny Goodness," she announced, her tone one of supreme authority. "And these are Furies: Lashina and Gilotina."
There was a tense pause where no one moved or spoke. The silence was thick, filled with the weight of impending conflict. Myrina's eyes burned with fierce protectiveness as she demanded, "Why are you here?"
Granny Goodness's twisted smile widened; her eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "I like to keep an eye on the children of my master," she replied, her voice a sickly sweet mockery of politeness. "And I have come to bring the children of my lord, Darkseid, to Apokolips."
Penelope stepped forward; her stance defiant. "We will not let you take Grail."
Granny's curiosity was piqued as her gaze shifted between the two infants. "Grail, is it? What about the other child?" Her eyes lingered on Gaius, interest and calculation evident in her expression.
Before anyone could respond, Granny's smile turned cruel. "Attack," she commanded, her voice a sharp crack in the oppressive silence.
The Female Furies sprang into action with deadly precision. Lashina's whip uncoiled with a snap, its tip sparking with energy. Gilotina's twin blades flashed as she moved with terrifying speed.
Penelope faced off against Lashina, her heart pounding. She was a skilled fighter, but she had never faced an opponent like this. Lashina's whip cracked through the air; its tip aimed with lethal intent. Penelope's eyes narrowed, tracking the movement, her mind racing.
She dodged the first strike, the whip slicing through the air where she had stood a moment before. The second strike came quickly, and Penelope parried with her dagger, sparks flying as metal met energy. She felt the force of the blow vibrate up her arm, the sheer power of the whip user evident in every strike.
Penelope knew she couldn't keep her distance. The whip was too fast, too precise. She needed to get in close, where she could neutralize Lashina's reach and bring the fight to hand-to-hand combat. With a determined glint in her eye, she shifted her stance, ready to move.
Lashina's next strike came low, aimed at her legs. Penelope leaped over the whip, using the momentum to close the distance between them. She landed in a roll, coming up swiftly and slashing at Lashina with her dagger. Lashina was quick, stepping back and cracking her whip in a defensive maneuver.
Penelope pressed the attack, her movements a blur of speed and precision. She dodged left, then right, each time narrowly avoiding the whip's deadly tip. She could feel the heat of the energy crackling from it, smell the ozone in the air.
Finally, she saw her opening. As Lashina drew back for another strike, Penelope lunged forward, using her momentum to knock the whip aside and drive her shoulder into Lashina's chest. The impact sent them both crashing to the ground, Penelope rolling quickly to her feet, her dagger at the ready.
Lashina snarled, her whip momentarily useless in the close quarters. Penelope didn't give her a chance to recover. She launched into a flurry of punches and kicks, each strike driven by her need to protect Myrina and Grail. Her fists met flesh, each blow a release of her fear, anger, and determination.
Lashina fought back fiercely, her strength and speed making her a formidable opponent. She blocked a punch aimed at her face, countering with a knee to Penelope's ribs. Penelope grunted in pain but didn't back down. She twisted, using the momentum to deliver a swift elbow to Lashina's jaw.
The two women grappled, each trying to gain the upper hand. Penelope's mind was a whirl of tactics and emotion. She felt the weight of her responsibility, the fear of failure, the desperate need to protect those she loved. Every punch, every kick was a testament to her resolve, to the strength that came from her years of training and her unyielding spirit.
She could see the determination in Lashina's eyes, a mirror of her own.
As they struggled, Penelope caught a glimpse of Menalippe, locked in battle with Gilotina. The Amazon seer was holding her own, her movements a graceful ballet of defense and attack. But even as she fought, Penelope saw the figure of Granny Goodness moving up behind her, a sinister smile on her lips.
The sight filled Penelope with a fresh wave of determination. She couldn't let Menalippe fall. She couldn't let these monsters win. With a fierce cry, she threw herself at Lashina with renewed vigor, her attacks becoming more ferocious, more desperate.
Lashina barely had time to react as Penelope's assault intensified. The Amazon warrior moved with a speed and precision born of years of training and an unbreakable will. Each punch landed with bone-crunching force, each kick aimed to disable and disarm.
Penelope ducked under a wild swing of Lashina's whip, feeling the crackling energy pass just above her head. She countered with a powerful uppercut, sending Lashina staggering backward. Not giving her a moment to recover, Penelope closed the distance, driving her knee into Lashina's midsection, forcing the air from her lungs in a pained gasp.
Lashina tried to retaliate, but Penelope was relentless. She dodged to the side, avoiding another crack of the whip, and delivered a sharp elbow to Lashina's temple. The blow dazed her opponent, and Penelope seized the opportunity. With a swift, decisive motion, she disarmed Lashina, knocking the whip from her grasp.
Lashina's eyes widened in shock as Penelope's dagger flashed in the dim light, slicing a deep gash across her arm. Penelope pressed her advantage, striking with a series of quick, brutal blows that left Lashina reeling. Finally, with a powerful kick to the chest, Penelope sent her crashing to the ground.
Breathing heavily, Penelope turned her attention to Menalippe, who was still locked in combat with Gilotina. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and determination as she rushed to her sister's aid.
But as she moved forward, Penelope's eyes widened in horror. Gilotina's blade flashed in the torchlight, striking Menalippe with lethal precision. Menalippe gasped, a look of shock and pain crossing her face as she staggered back, clutching her wound.
"No!" Penelope screamed, her voice raw with anguish. She sprinted towards them, but it was too late. Granny Goodness, with a twisted smile of triumph, delivered the final, brutal blow to Menalippe, her body crumpling to the ground.
Penelope skidded to a halt, her heart breaking as she took in the scene. Menalippe, her sister, her friend, lay lifeless on the cold stone floor, her eyes staring sightlessly into the void. Gilotina stood over her, the satisfaction of the kill evident in her cold, calculating eyes.
Granny Goodness turned her gaze to Penelope, her smile widening. "Another Amazon falls," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "How many more will it take before you realize the futility of your resistance?"
Penelope's grief and rage threatened to consume her, but she forced herself to stay focused. She couldn't let Menalippe's sacrifice be in vain.
With tears streaming down her face, Penelope gripped her dagger tighter, ready to face the next onslaught. The battle was far from over, and she would fight to her last breath to honor her fallen sister.
Penelope's rage surged like a tidal wave as she faced Gilotina. The grief for Menalippe's death fueled her every movement, transforming her into a whirlwind of fury and precision. She lunged at Gilotina, her dagger flashing through the air with lethal intent.
Gilotina met her assault with a chilling calm, her twin blades weaving a deadly pattern as she parried Penelope's strikes. The clash of steel on steel echoed through the chamber, each impact reverberating in Penelope's bones. She fought with everything she had, every ounce of her strength and skill directed at avenging Menalippe.
Penelope ducked under a vicious swipe, retaliating with a swift cut to Gilotina's leg. The Fury hissed in pain but did not falter. Instead, she pressed forward, her attacks becoming more aggressive, more desperate. Penelope blocked and countered, her movements fluid and relentless.
With a fierce cry, Penelope delivered a powerful kick to Gilotina's midsection, knocking her back. Seizing the moment, she closed the distance, her dagger aiming for a fatal strike. But Gilotina was quick, her blades crossing in front of her to deflect the blow. The two warriors were locked in a deadly dance, their eyes filled with hatred and determination.
In the midst of their battle, Penelope's eyes flicked to Myrina, who was desperately trying to protect both of her children. Myrina stood her ground, her face set in grim determination as she cradled Gaius and Grail, shielding them from the horrors around them. Her body was a barrier, her fierce maternal instinct driving her every move.
Granny Goodness loomed closer, her presence a shadow of malevolence. Myrina's eyes darted between her children and the approaching threat, her mind racing for a way to save them. The air was thick with tension, the storm outside a mere whisper compared to the chaos within.
Penelope's heart skipped a beat as she saw Granny's hands close around Myrina's neck. Myrina struggled, her eyes wide with fear and desperation. She fought with all the strength she had left, trying to fend off Granny while holding onto her children. Her efforts were heroic but ultimately futile against the overwhelming power of Granny Goodness.
With a sickening crack, Granny snapped Myrina's neck. Myrina's eyes went blank, and her body crumpled to the ground, still holding onto her precious children.
"No!" Penelope's scream tore through the air, her grief and fury melding into one. The sight of Myrina's lifeless form was almost too much to bear. She turned her full wrath on Gilotina, her strikes becoming wild and frenzied.
But in her blind rage, Penelope did not see Lashina rejoining the fight. The whip cracked through the air, wrapping around Penelope's arm and yanking her back. She stumbled, her focus momentarily shattered, and Gilotina took advantage, slashing at her with deadly precision.
Penelope cried out in pain, blood flowing from the wound. She fought to regain her footing, to push through the agony and continue the battle. But she was surrounded, the odds stacked against her. Lashina's whip lashed out again, and Penelope barely managed to block it with her dagger.
She was forced to retreat, her mind racing for a strategy to survive. The memory of Myrina and Menalippe's deaths fueled her resolve, but the reality of the situation was grim. She was outnumbered, wounded, and facing two fearsome and skilled warriors.
Granny Goodness watched the scene with a twisted smile, her satisfaction evident. "You Amazons are so stubborn," she mocked. "But your resistance is futile. Surrender now, and perhaps I will make your death quick."
Penelope spat blood, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Never."
With that, she threw herself back into the fight, determined to take down as many of them as she could.
Penelope's heart pounded as she faced Lashina and Gilotina, the weight of her grief and anger driving her forward. She fought with a ferocity born of desperation, her dagger flashing through the air as she met each attack with skill and precision. But even as she fought, she knew she was outmatched.
Lashina's whip cracked through the air, its energy tip snapping dangerously close. Penelope dodged and rolled, narrowly avoiding the lethal strikes. She sprang to her feet and lunged at Gilotina, her dagger aimed at her opponent's midsection. Gilotina parried the blow with one of her blades, the force of the impact reverberating up Penelope's arm.
Gilotina countered with a swift, slicing motion, and Penelope barely had time to block with her dagger. The two women were locked in a deadly dance, their movements a blur of speed and aggression. Penelope's muscles burned with exertion, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, but she pushed herself to keep going.
Lashina took advantage of Penelope's distraction, her whip wrapping around Penelope's ankle and yanking her off her feet. Penelope hit the ground hard, the air forced from her lungs. She rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding Gilotina's downward strike, and scrambled back to her feet.
She fought with everything she had, every ounce of her strength and training focused on surviving the onslaught. She landed a solid punch to Lashina's jaw, momentarily stunning her, and then spun to block Gilotina's twin blades with her dagger. But the two Furies were relentless, their attacks coordinated and unyielding.
Penelope knew she was losing ground. Every block, every counter, took more effort, and her movements were growing slower. She felt the sting of a shallow cut on her arm, then another on her thigh. Blood flowed freely, her body weakening with each passing moment.
Her mind raced for a strategy, but the reality was grim. She was surrounded, outnumbered, and losing strength. The memory of Myrina's and Menalippe's deaths fueled her resolve, but the odds were stacked against her.
Lashina's whip lashed out again, and this time it wrapped around Penelope's wrist, the energy tip burning her skin. She cried out in pain, struggling to free herself, but Lashina yanked hard, pulling her off balance. Gilotina moved in, her blades slicing through the air with deadly intent.
Penelope parried one strike but missed the second. The blade cut deep into her side, and she stumbled, her vision blurring with pain. She fell to one knee, her dagger slipping from her grasp. Desperation clawed at her heart as she looked up at her enemies, their faces cold and merciless.
Even as she faced her likely end, Penelope refused to give in. She lunged forward with her last ounce of strength, aiming a wild punch at Gilotina. The blow connected, but it lacked the power to do any real damage. Gilotina barely flinched, her lips curling into a cruel smile.
Penelope's breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with exhaustion and pain. She knew she was losing, but she would not surrender. Not now, not ever. She had fought too hard, lost too much, to give up.
Lashina's whip cracked one final time, and Penelope felt the sharp, burning pain as it struck her across the back. She collapsed to the ground, her vision darkening, but her spirit remained unbroken.
Summoning every last reserve of energy and willpower, she forced herself to stand.
With a primal scream, she launched herself at Lashina and Gilotina. The Furies were taken aback by her sudden resurgence, and Penelope used their momentary surprise to her advantage. She dodged Lashina's whip and delivered a powerful kick to Gilotina's knee, causing her to stagger.
Ignoring the searing pain in her side, Penelope pressed forward, her eyes fixed on the children. She fought with a desperation that bordered on madness, her movements fueled by a single, unwavering purpose. She had to reach Grail.
Lashina's whip cracked through the air, but Penelope was ready. She ducked and rolled, the whip's energy tip missing her by inches. She came up in a crouch, dagger in hand, and slashed at Gilotina's midsection. The Fury blocked the attack, but Penelope's momentum carried her past her adversaries and closer to the children.
She reached Gaius and Grail, her breath coming in ragged gasps. With trembling hands, she scooped up Grail, cradling the infant against her chest. The weight of the vision hung heavy in her mind as she looked at Gaius, the innocent child who could bring about so much destruction.
Her resolve hardened. She had to prevent the vision, no matter the cost. Penelope raised her dagger, her heart breaking as she prepared to do the unthinkable. But before she could strike, she heard the crack of the whip behind her. She jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding Lashina's attack.
Lashina's eyes were filled with rage as she advanced, but Penelope didn't have time to fight. Clutching Grail tightly, she made for the exit, her legs fueled by adrenaline and desperation.
Granny Goodness watched the scene unfold with a twisted smile. "Interesting," she mused aloud, her voice dripping with malice. "This will be a fascinating story to tell the boy when he gets older."
Penelope's heart pounded as she ran, every step a battle against her failing body. The exit loomed ahead, a beacon of hope and escape. She could hear the Furies closing in behind her, but she pushed herself harder, refusing to let them catch her.
She burst into the storm outside, the cold rain mixing with the sweat and blood on her skin. Penelope's vision swam, but she kept running, her mind fixed on the goal of protecting Grail.
o-o-o-o-o
Apokolips
The planet was a nightmarish landscape, shrouded in perpetual darkness and bathed in the glow of infernal fires. The skies were a constant swirl of smoke and ash, blocking out any hope of light or respite. Apokolips was a place where hope went to die, and despair reigned supreme.
Across the desolate plains and towering, jagged structures, countless innocents from every corner of the universe toiled as slaves. They were dragged to Apokolips to serve the whims of the evil gods, their lives reduced to endless suffering and relentless labor. The cries of the tormented echoed through the air, mixing with the harsh commands of overseers and the constant, ominous hum of machinery. Here, every conceivable horror played out daily: torture, experimentation, and executions were common, and mercy was a forgotten concept.
Granny Goodness strode through the chaos with a twisted smile on her lips. She took a perverse pleasure in the misery around her, reveling in the absolute power she held over these broken souls. Her destination was the Orphanage, a grim facility where she molded the young into loyal servants of Darkseid. The Orphanage was a place of terror, where children were subjected to brutal training regimes designed to break their spirits and reshape them into weapons of war.
As Granny approached the heavy iron doors of the Orphanage, she cast a glance at the small, swaddled figure of the boy in her arms. Her master, Darkseid, only recognized his offspring if they proved themselves worthy of his attention. Many had perished in the attempt, their existence barely acknowledged before they were snuffed out. But Granny saw something in this boy, something that might set him apart.
She remembered the fierce Amazon who had tried to kill the boy, her desperation and determination clear. That kind of dedication, that kind of threat, suggested that the boy held great potential. "Perhaps," Granny mused to herself, "there is great promise in this one."
With that thought in mind, she pushed open the doors of the Orphanage and walked down the dimly lit corridors, filled with the sounds of crying children and the harsh shouts of their overseers. She reached the nursery, a cold and sterile room lined with cribs, each containing a new arrival destined for a harsh upbringing.
Gently, almost tenderly, Granny placed the boy in an empty crib. She looked down at him, her expression softening just a fraction. "You will have all the love I can give you," she whispered, her voice a sickly-sweet parody of maternal affection. "And if you survive, you will become something truly formidable."
Granny straightened, her face hardening once more as she turned and walked away. Behind her, the cries of the children continued, a grim symphony of despair that echoed through the halls of the Orphanage, mingling with the constant, oppressive sounds of Apokolips.