Son of Wonder Woman

The Witch's Web

Circe sat in the darkened corner of her lair, the ancient walls lined with shelves of arcane tomes and magical artifacts. The room hummed with a quiet, almost malevolent energy, the air thick with the scent of incense and forgotten secrets. Her sharp eyes glinted with satisfaction as she carefully inspected the magical thread she had been pulling at for weeks—a thread that led her to an unexpected discovery.

Diana's secret was no longer a secret to her. Circe had learned that the Amazonian warrior—known to the world as Wonder Woman—had a child, a son. Perseus, or as he was known to the outside world, Percy Jackson. The realization brought a malicious smile to Circe's lips. She had always been one for games, for manipulation, but this? This was an opportunity of a lifetime. Not only had she uncovered the vulnerability of Diana, the famed hero, but she also had a powerful bargaining chip. A chip that was currently unaware of his true heritage.

Circe's fingers traced the edges of a crystal orb on the table before her. It shimmered with a faint glow, and through it, she could see glimpses of Percy's life—his movements, his interactions, his confusion. The boy was in the perfect position. Diana had been trying to keep him sheltered, to protect him from the chaos of their world, but Circe saw it differently. If she played her cards right, Percy could become a weapon—one capable of striking at the very heart of his mother's carefully constructed life.

The idea was intoxicating. She could use him, manipulate him into actions that would draw Diana out of her composure. Circe could make Percy believe that his mother wasn't the woman he thought she was, that she had lied to him all his life. A son's anger, his sense of betrayal—there would be no greater weapon to use against Diana.

With a single thought, Circe sent her magic out like tendrils, seeking to twist and shape Percy's perception of his world. She could already feel his doubts—his resentment for his mother's control, his feelings of being trapped in a gilded cage of privilege. That frustration would be easy to stoke. It wouldn't take much. And once he was hers to command, she could lead him straight to Diana's doorstep, breaking her with the weight of the truth.

But before that, Circe would have to test him. She needed to know how far she could push him before he snapped. She needed to see how far she could go in turning him to her side, bending his will to her whims. And the key, she realized, was to make him feel like he was in control, like he was choosing the path she set before him. Every moment, every word, every subtle manipulation had to seem like it was his own decision.

Her lips curled into a wicked smile as she began to weave a new plan. She would begin with small seeds—whispers in the right ears, subtle nudges in Percy's life. If he could be made to doubt his mother, to see her as a figure of deception, the rest would follow.

The next day, Percy was at Gotham Academy, his mind still reeling from the events of the weekend. He had been grounded by Diana and was still grappling with the aftermath of his mistake. Every time he tried to do something as simple as getting a snack from the kitchen, the weight of her disappointment bore down on him. The silence between them at home had been stifling. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had let Diana down, that she would never see him the same way again. Yet, he was still determined not to go back to Black Mask. He was done with that life—at least, that's what he kept telling himself.

At school, Artemis had continued to check on him, offering quiet words of encouragement and advice. She had made it clear that she was there for him, that she would help him through whatever he was dealing with. But Percy felt like he was losing something inside himself, like the walls he had built around his heart were slowly crumbling. He felt trapped, not by his own choices, but by the expectations that everyone placed on him.

That afternoon, as he walked through the hallways between classes, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out to see a message from an unknown number. The message was brief but chilling: