Ares was dressed by his nymph attendants in a Greek toga bearing a large red seal decorated with a bird, and he headed to the combat hall. Inside stood a massive rectangular table with an eccentric chair at the far end of the room. Ares sat in it defiantly. The chair was red and had a carved vulture perched at the top.

  At the table were twelve seats, occupied by seven men and five women. One of the men was the same person who had welcomed Ares upon his arrival.

  Everyone turned to look at the Greek god as he took his throne.

  “I’ve summoned you here,” said the god of war, “because I’ve decided to accept Lel’s proposal and kill those two rebellious goddesses who have become their latest problem.”

  “My lord Ares, calling upon your Twelve Keres to kill two insignificant goddesses—especially calling upon me—is an insult to this group,” said the woman seated to Ares’s left. Her chair bore the letter Ι, the value of number one in the ancient Greek alphabet.

  The woman wore a conical red crown and a crimson veil covering her head. Several black curls escaped from it, resting on her forehead. Her beautiful blue eyes were slightly narrow, almost giving her a mocking smile.

  “How dare you question our lord Ares, Menrva?” replied a dark-skinned man sitting in the seat marked ΙΠ, the value of number four.

  The man wore a silver African crown, and his mouth was hidden by a silver cone covering his neck and jaw. His entire body was adorned with piercings and silver decorations, and small circular protrusions rose from his skin. His eyes, eyebrows, and hair were pure white. His presence was intimidating, and he radiated raw strength.

  “Menrva has a point, Ogun. Though I’m not complaining—I look forward to decapitating those bitches and violating their corpses,” said another man, seated on a chair marked ΔΙ, the value of number eleven.

  This god appeared to be a youth of about sixteen. He wore a blue Egyptian crown with a braided lock of hair descending from it. His skin was brown, and his eyes were painted to emphasize their blue color. He wore a menat necklace and carried a staff ending in a whip and baton. His body was wrapped in uneven bandages, like a mummy or an injured warrior, leaving parts of his body exposed.

  “Shut up, Khonsu, you disgusting deviant,” said a woman seated in the chair with the symbol ΙΙΙ, representing the number three.

  The goddess had olive skin and brown hair tied into a braid. She wore a golden diadem on her forehead and a simple long blue dress with yellow accents and long sleeves.

  “I don’t know why we have to tolerate a brat like Khonsu in this council. Selardi has every right to be annoyed,” said another goddess at the table. Her chair was marked ΠΙ, the value of six.

  She wore a red spiked crown and a sensual armor-like outfit that left little to the imagination. Two beautiful white wings unfolded from her back. Her violet eyes were highlighted with purple makeup, and her light brown hair fell in soft waves down her back.

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  “Come shut me up yourself, Ishtar, you cheap whore,” Khonsu snarled as he slammed the table.

  “I would tear that filthy head of yours from your neck before you even had the chance to soil yourself in fear,” Ishtar replied.

  “Everyone, stop fighting in front of our lord Ares,” said the man who had greeted Ares earlier. His chair bore the symbol ΙΔ, representing the number nine.

  He had tan skin, long black hair, and a thick beard. He wore a simple white tunic.

  “Always the boot-licker Zalmoxis, ruining the fun. Just because he’s a filthy Thracian—and a pathetic nephil to top it off—he thinks he owes Ares his life,” mocked Khonsu.

  Ares slammed his right foot on the table, the sound echoing thunderously.

  “Enough of your gossiping like old washerwomen,” he snapped.

  “I’ve gathered you because those two goddesses are no longer alone—they’ve joined Athena’s rebel group.”

  “One moment, my lord Ares. You expect us to fight Athena and her band of rebels?” Ogun asked.

  “What’s wrong, coward?” Khonsu taunted.

  “You wouldn’t last two seconds against Athena, you half-baked runt,” Ishtar said as she propped her feet on the table, reclining in her chair.

  “Enough, Khonsu!” Ares roared.

  Khonsu crossed his arms and turned away defiantly.

  “I’ve thought it through. Killing Athena would benefit us greatly. Tell me—wouldn’t you like to be accepted into Lel and your pantheons once again? Delicious food, servants, enormous palaces, luxuries—everything we can no longer enjoy on this miserable planet,” Ares said, rising to persuade them.

  The gods murmured among themselves and nodded. This planet was awful, and they all preferred the human world a thousand times over. If they gained Lel’s forgiveness, they could once again enjoy the sweetness of their realms.

  “I want to cross blades with Athena, lord Ares. I’ve wanted that for centuries,” said Menrva, licking her lips.

  “But I understand they outnumber us,” said a god seated in the chair marked ΠΙΙ, representing seven.

  He was a dark-skinned redhead with braided hair. He wore a golden crown, his chest was bare, and he wore a blue-and-white skirt.

  “Even so, we will fight here, on this planet, Mahrem. My power will increase drastically—this star has been associated with me since ancient times, and some of yours as well,” Ares said as he paced around the table.

  “I agree,” said Ishtar, raising her hand.

  The others nodded.

  “And how do we lure them here?” Selardi asked.

  “Anat has given me excellent bait. One of their friends—who risked his life for them—I’ve brought him here. We’ll place him at the highest point of the planet. They’ll have to come for him, because I know how pathetic they are,” Ares replied.

  “That’s brilliant. If we fight here, we’ll crush them,” Zalmoxis said excitedly.

  “We’ll be ten times stronger than they are,” Khonsu added mockingly.

  “Exactly,” Ares said. “I’ll send my message to that bitch of a sister of mine. No matter how many they bring—we’ll crush them.”

  “Yes!” they all answered.

  “With nothing else to discuss, this meeting is adjourned,” Ares said as his Keres rose.

  However, one of them—the one whose chair bore the symbol ΙΙ, representing two—remained standing, watching Ares on his throne.

  “Do you need something, Gurzil?” Ares asked.

  “If I may, my lord,” the deity replied, “I’ve known that girl Tannit since she was a child. We are not from the same pantheon, but we are acquaintances. I know something about her we could easily exploit to our advantage.”

  Gurzil’s appearance was grotesque. His face and back were concealed beneath the bleeding hide of a bull, with bones and viscera poking through the mantle. His stench was revolting. His body was covered in tattoos, and he wore only a loincloth. Red eyes glowed from the darkness beneath the hide, and he carried a rusted axe caked with petrified blood.

  “Interesting. You’re a Berber god, correct?” Ares asked.

  “Yes, my lord—we know the Punic gods well,” he replied.

  Ares and Gurzil continued speaking as darkness settled over Mars.