Donna Troy: Sister of Hippolyta by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Donna-Troy-Sister-of-Hippolyta-1125649805#image-1

Donna Troy: Sister of Hippolyta ANIMATION

The Iron Choir of Ecliptica

The stars bled light. Not the tender glow of creation, but a slow hemorrhage of dying suns pouring down upon the black plains of Ecliptica—a battlefield frozen between time’s last seconds.

Donna Troy hovered amid the ruin, her armor torn by stellar fire, her hair whipping like dark ribbons in zero gravity. The remains of worlds drifted around her—planets carved open like ripe fruit, hollow moons impaled on spires of shadowed metal.

Something massive stirred in the distance.

It was not alive, not in any sense the gods would recognize. From the debris field rose a figure of armor the size of a cathedral, plated in obsidian and veined with lines of molten crimson. A Darkstar construct—one of the cosmic sentinels built to enforce dominion long before human memory. This one still moved. Still hunted.

Its voice echoed through the void.
“Donna Troy of Themyscira. You are a remnant. All remnants are to be erased.”

Her hand closed around the lasso at her waist—a thread of golden light flickering faintly, like a candle in the wind. “I’ve heard that before,” she said. “Funny thing about remnants—they tend to remember what destroyed them.”

The construct advanced, every step shattering asteroids into dust. Behind it, the broken rings of a world swirled like a crown of bones. Donna could feel the airless silence pressing against her, the oppressive hum of a machine mind spreading across the void.

But she was not alone.

“Still dramatic as ever,” came a voice through the static. It was male, smooth, with a trace of arrogance. A shadow peeled from the wreckage nearby—a figure in cracked armor, helm in hand, revealing a face both young and ancient.
“Rhethon,” Donna breathed. “I thought you were dead.”

“Dead?” His smile was laced with irony. “Not quite. Merely repurposed. Like everything here.”

He raised his gauntleted hand, and a pulse of black light shimmered between his fingers. The construct halted its march, as if awaiting instruction.

“You control it,” Donna realized.

“I am within it,” he corrected softly. “These Darkstars were meant to protect order in the cosmos. But their code was corrupted. Their hearts—if one can call such things hearts—still echo with fragments of the old will. I merely speak its language.”

“And what does it want?” she asked.

He stepped closer, his armor sighing with the whisper of dying stars. “It wants peace. The kind only extinction brings.”

Donna’s gaze hardened. “Then I’ll disappoint it.”

She shot forward, golden trails spiraling from her bracelets as she struck, each blow ringing like a prayer through the void. Sparks scattered into nebular dust. The colossal construct responded with a roar of static, swinging a fist the size of a fortress. The impact cracked the light around her, hurling her through the carcass of a drifting dreadnought.

Inside, the broken corridors glowed faintly with cosmic radiation. Donna rose amid the twisted beams and shattered viewports. Rhethon appeared in the opening, walking toward her as if through smoke.

“Always defiant,” he murmured. “Even when surrounded by ghosts.”

“Ghosts?”

He gestured. The shadows stirred. Faces appeared in the metallic walls—echoes of fallen warriors, their eyes dim with starlight. They whispered her name, hundreds of voices overlapping in mechanical harmony.

“The Iron Choir,” Rhethon said. “Every mind that ever served the Darkstars, bound to their circuits. I saved them from oblivion. You could join them.”

Her laugh was low, dangerous. “You call that saving?”

“Better than the silence that waits.”

For a moment, he reached out to her. His hand trembled, and she saw in his eyes the man he once was—the comrade who had stood beside her in the Wars of Titans, the one who had almost kissed her under the twin moons of Mnemosyne.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” she whispered. “You can still stop it.”

Rhethon’s eyes flickered with light from the dying stars. “You think this is choice? I am the machine now, Donna. It sings through me.”

The walls began to hum, low and resonant, like the prelude to a funeral dirge. Outside, the giant construct knelt, its arms opening like wings. From its back unfolded thousands of smaller figures—Darkstar drones, their armor gleaming like obsidian mirrors.

“Then I’ll silence your choir,” Donna said.

Sh
...(more at https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai).
For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)