Dorotea and Ozma walk amongst the thousand Ruined Temples of Gods persecuted by the Armies of Aries. Temples to Astarte, Artemis, Hermes, Demeter, Isis, Thoth, Dionysus, Ra, Osiris, Hecate and hundreds of lesser known and Older Cults who went extinct before the looters of the Sanhedrin arrived.

Dorothea feels sad for so many great works for art smashed, stones carried away to built other cultures temples, adherents burned alive or buried under fallen stone. Every temple has the same sad story, mothers and daughters violated and lying mummified in their lands monuments, to forever be an effigy of oppression of the Goddesses.

Ozma asks about the individual Gods and Goddesses. Dorotea is too moved by the loss of millennia of magic and life. Inside her Demeter promised to guide her, but instead of advice or a feeling of certainty and confidence. She is feeling someone else’s memories and pain. The loss of friends over generations. The feeling the world is sliding into a backwards Epoch, some kind of regression that she can’t quite understand. Dorotea feels more and more like a debt is owed.

A few drops of rain start falling, turning into a spattering of large drops hitting erratically as the thunder from the distance draws slowly near. Dorotea feels less and less like a young girl lost on strange horizons, and more like a feminine manifestation of rage. A Goddess of a rare moment in history where there was justice and order according to nature.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

With out seeing or knowing what she was doing she was manifesting a crystal dagger and cutting her hand over and over. Not noticing her hands torn to ribbons and looking like a Stigmata, Dorotea starts walking towards the Pyramid of Aries, until she breaks into a run. As Sicari and Sanhedrin notice her she is totally possessed by the single minded quest for vengeance of a goddess of war.

Unhesitatingly dodging heavy attacks of Aries soldiers like a dance, stepping aside with little effort and plunging her Knife of Crystal into hearts, eyes, lungs. Leaving horrific Monstrosities whimpering and gasping in pools of blood. Running up the Pyramid now full speed she is unseen by those inside. Ozma unsure but not wanting to be alone is not far behind. Cresting the top Dorotea sees Slaves cowering in corners of great rooms. Ignoring them she looks for Aries or some sign, some clue to lead her to ending this war before it begins.

Dorotea and Ozma are startled to see the Soul of Mercury floating in the Ether. A bluish orb floats around the apartments of Aries. Like a white hot ball of plasma rapidly cooling and flashing hot again, inside is the melting spirit of Mercury going from different stages of life. As a Youth, as a Warrior, as an Old Man, as the Black Knight. Ozma walks up and touches the orb, her eyes spark with electricity and she faints and ceases to exist.

Dorotea alone stalks the halls of the Temple of Aries, she finds Mars corpse, totally mutilated and assaulted. Dorotea hears a strange sound, coming from an adjacent chamber hall. Beyond veils, she spies Aries gazing into a black mirror. Leaping onto his neck has he opens a portal and steps through, her knife plunging deep into his throat as they both disappear into the Mirror. In the last moment before crashing into oblivion Dorotea say a glimpse of something so fleeting she is not sure she really saw it or its significance. Persephone was in the Pyramid of Baal, and her smile had a glare of maliciousness of any thing but an ally.