The goddess of war moved invisible among the men, like the rustle of jungle leaves before an ambush or the whistle of wind in the path of a shell. Starlit fingers, razor sharp as shell splinters, scraped across battlefields, here sparing a man, there cutting one down.
"This one will live by hiding in a place of death," she giggled, as a city burned. "The horror will fuel his art."
"This one will one day lead his people, and his son after him," she smiled, and cast a pilot into the sea. "They will both fight wars and keep the cycle going."
The other gods and goddesses watched and wept, burying their Olympian heads in a constellation of tears.
Their sister had gone mad.
"This one will live by hiding in a place of death," she giggled, as a city burned. "The horror will fuel his art."
"This one will one day lead his people, and his son after him," she smiled, and cast a pilot into the sea. "They will both fight wars and keep the cycle going."
The other gods and goddesses watched and wept, burying their Olympian heads in a constellation of tears.
Their sister had gone mad.
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