Chapter 2: Touring Themyscira: Part Two: The Great Library of the Amazons
The sun dipped low over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink as Diana and Ororo walked back to the citadel, their fingers entwined, their bodies still humming with the aftershocks of their passion. Diana felt a warmth in her once again clothed chest, a contentment that always washed over her when she spent time with her lovers. She loved the way Ororo's hand fit in hers, the way her fingers intertwined with her own, a perfect match. She loved the scent of her, the taste of her, and the sound of her laughter. She loved the way Ororo looked at her, her eyes filled with an expression of eye-opening desire.
Alas, she already had her fill of fun for now, which meant she had to follow through on her business.
"Ororo," Diana said with a sigh. "There is something we need to discuss."
The headmistress raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in tone. "What is it?"
"We need to talk about Aurora," the demigoddess said. "I still don't understand how exactly it is that she even has the X-Gene. Amazons are built differently from humans and mutants. Literally, in fact, since almost all Amazons are created by the Greek Goddesses instead of being born, with the few exceptions being the demigod children of an Amazon with an Olympian, such as myself. Do you have any theories, because this is not just unprecedented...it borders on impossible unless there were some unknown, outside forces at work at Aurora's creation, and that possibility concerns me."
Ororo nodded slowly. "I know little about the creation of new Amazons other than old legends repeated over the ages, but yes, from what I have heard of them and what we scientifically know of the X-gene, I don't understand how this even happened either. Maybe when we bring Aurora back to the X-mansion, we could run some tests to see what we can find, but for now, even Professor X sounded stumped when it came to explaining this phenomenon. "
"I see," Diana said. "Well, in that case, I would like to take the next stop of your tour of my homeland through the Great Library of Themyscira. We entrusted our most experienced Amazon scholar to explore this mystery and check our ancient records for anything that may help explain this unprecedented situation, and I am curious to see if she has any suggestions by now."
Ororo's eyes widened in surprised excitement. "Based on the name of your learning institution...would I be right to assume that it was made in a similar fashion to the famous Library of Alexandria that was tragically burned in antiquity?"
Diana chuckled. "Why, Ororo, you look almost as excited as you were while I was eating you out. Almost..."
The mutant superheroine blushed on reflex at her words, but then Diana chuckled again, more loudly, before nodding. "Yes, it looks very similar to how the old Library of Alexandria looked...at the insistence of the scholar we are about to go see."
Storm looked intrigued at her response. "Should I KNOW who we are going to see?"
"Maybe," Diana said with a chuckle. "Anyway, let's go."
And with that, Wonder Woman started walking up the road that led to the back of the island citadel, listening to Ororo scoff playfully before she started trailing close behind.
All the while appreciating Diana's toned backside.
The path wound upwards, the scent of night-blooming jasmine beginning to perfume the cool evening air as the last light bled from the sky. Ororo reached out, her fingers lightly brushing the small of Diana’s back. “You know, for a tour, this has been remarkably… comprehensive so far.”
Diana glanced back, a smirk playing on her lips. “I believe in thorough introductions.”
They rounded a final curve, and the Great Library rose before them, a majestic structure of pale marble and soaring columns illuminated by softly glowing orbs of captured sunlight. It wasn’t merely a building; it felt like a living mind carved from stone, vast and serene. The sheer scale of it, the weight of silent knowledge, pulled a soft gasp from Ororo’s lips.
“It’s… formidable,” she whispered, her voice hushed by the atmosphere.
“It needs to be,” Diana said, her tone shifting to one of profound respect. “It guards more than history. It guards truth.” She pushed the great bronze doors open, their movement silent and impossibly smooth.
Inside, the air was cool and carried the clean, dry scent of parchment, papyrus, and aged leather. Endless shelves stretched into shadows, stacked with scrolls and codices. Light fell in soft pillars from high clerestory windows, illuminating floating motes of dust. The silence here was different from the beach—a deep, listening quiet.
“This way,” Diana murmured, leading her through a labyrinth of knowledge.
They found the chief librarian in a sun-drenched reading nook, her back to them as she examined a sprawling manuscript. Her hair was a cascade of dark curls threaded with silver, and her posture was both elegant and utterly focused. She didn’t turn as they approached, absorbed in her work.
“Hypatia,” Diana said, her voice warm. “We’ve come for your wisdom.”
The woman turned, and Ororo felt the air leave her lungs. The face was strong, intelligent, with eyes that held an impossible depth—the keen gaze of a scholar, but shadowed by a memory of profound pain. She wore a simple, draped Amazon gown, but her presence was unmistakably ancient.
“Diana,” Hypatia said, her voice a low, melodic contour. “And you’ve brought the Storm.” Her eyes, the color of weathered papyrus, settled on Ororo with an intensity that felt like being cataloged in a new, unfathomable system. “Welcome.”
“Ororo, this is Hypatia,” Diana said, placing a hand gently on the small of Ororo’s back. “Our chief librarian, and the mind that once guided the Great Library of Alexandria.”
Ororo’s mind stuttered. “That’s… not possible.”
A faint, sad smile touched Hypatia’s lips. “It is a strange thing, to be a footnote in history, then granted a second chapter millennia later.” She gestured to a nearby bench. “Please, sit. Diana’s message about your foundling, Aurora, arrived. I have been searching.”
Ororo sat, still reeling. “Athena?” she managed to ask.
“The Goddess of Wisdom judges souls by their hunger for knowledge, not by the blades that cut them down,” Hypatia said, her fingers tracing the edge of the manuscript. “My death in that square was… chaotic. A relic of fervor and fear. Here, I continue my work, undisturbed.” She looked directly at Ororo. “You wonder how an Amazon could carry the X-Gene.”
“It contradicts every biological and mystical precedent we have,” Ororo said, finding her footing in the clinical discussion.
Hypatia nodded. “As it should. My research suggests that there is only one logical way this could have happened.” She slid a worn, leather-bound journal across the table. “
Hypatia’s gaze remained steady, as if she could see the gears turning in Ororo’s mind.
“The creation of an Amazon is a specific divine sacrament,” Hypatia began, her voice measured. “A goddess breathes life into sculpted clay, granting a new soul a form forged of Themysciran earth. It is not a birth. It is a crafting.”
Diana leaned against a table, her arms crossed. “The soul is chosen by the Fates, or sometimes by a patron goddess. It’s always a woman who died violently, unjustly, at the hands of men. A soul worthy of a second chance.”
“Precisely,” Hypatia said, nodding. “But the clay itself is inert. It has no biology, no genetics. It becomes biology through the goddess’s will.” She paused, letting the contradiction hang in the silent air between the towering shelves. “For the X-Gene to be present, it could not have been imprinted upon the body. It had to have been woven into the soul that entered it.”
Ororo’s head snapped up. “That’s not how the X-Gene works. It’s a physical, heritable trait.”
“Is a soul not heritable?” Hypatia’s question was soft but pointed. “Is the essence of what makes a mutant not tied to their spirit, especially a power as fundamental as one that connects to the world itself?” She leaned forward slightly. “For this to have happened, Aurora must have been reborn from the soul of a female mutant who died unjustly at the hands of men within a year before her clay was animated.”
Ororo felt a cold knot form in her stomach. The list of mutants who died violently was, tragically, long. But Hypatia wasn’t finished.
“More than that,” the scholar continued, her finger tapping the journal. “It had to have been a mutant with a power that could affect earth, and by extension clay. Geokinesis, terraforming, even advanced molecular manipulation of silica. The mystical animation of the clay would have acted as a catalyst, allowing the resonance of her mutant essence to spill over into her new form’s foundation.”
Diana pushed off the table, her brow furrowed. “So the power bled into the process. Like a dye staining the material from within.”
“In a sense,” Hypatia conceded. “It would have gotten the process started, encoding a facsimile of the X-Gene into her Amazonian biology. In this new life, she likely lacks the same overt powers. Her new body has a different biology, which would mean a different manifestation of the mutation’s latent potential. Perhaps something subtler, something linked to Themysciran earth itself.”
Ororo’s mind raced, scanning years of incident reports, memorials, and casualty lists held in the X-Men’s databases. The parameters were horrifically specific. “Given Aurora’s age,” she said, her voice tight, “her past mutant form was murdered sometime within the last 19 or 20 years.”
“A narrowed window, but still a profound tragedy to investigate,” Hypatia said, her expression one of somber sympathy. She closed the journal with a soft finality. “I can offer the metaphysical framework, but the identification… that is a task for you and yours. You have better access to the records of the fallen.”
Ororo frowned, staring at the closed journal. The list was shorter now, but each name on it would be a ghost, a woman erased twice over. She felt the weight of it, a duty that was both professional and deeply personal.
“I need to contact the Professor,” Ororo said, standing. The decision was immediate, a reflex born of leadership. “He can cross-reference our databases with that timeframe and power signature. If such a record exists, we’ll find it.”
Diana moved to her side, her hand finding Ororo’s. “We’ll find it,” she affirmed, her tone leaving no room for doubt.
Hypatia offered a slight, respectful bow of her head. “Give peace to the lost, and clarity to the living. The library’s resources are yours if you need them.”
Ororo nodded her thanks, but she was already elsewhere, her thoughts racing ahead to the communicator in her guest chambers, to the solemn call she would have to make to Xavier. The paradise outside the library’s walls suddenly felt like a beautiful, fragile shell, and within it, the ghost of a murdered mutant waited for her name to be spoken once more.