ARES : God of War & Violence

chapter-1

Ares meadow (ML)

Looks (Immortal) Occupation: God of War and Violence Personality: Cold, dominant, emotionally guarded. A natural-born leader with a terrifying calm before his storm. Find solace only in solitude. Status: Feared by gods, worshiped by men, trusted by none.

Thunder cracks across a blood-red sky. The battlefield lies in ruin. Smoke. Silence. Ares stands alone.

Ares meadow (ML)

They call me the god of war… but war is mercy compared to what I feel for her. ( internal monologue)

His hands, once dripping with the blood of kings, now tremble—not from fear, but from something far more dangerous: longing.

He remembers the way she looked at him—not as a god, not as a monster—but as a man. A man capable of being saved. But gods don’t get saved… they burn.

He steps over fallen warriors, toward the altar where he last saw her—framed in moonlight, draped in defiance.

Ares meadow (ML)

If loving you means destroying Olympus… then let it fall. ( whisper)

∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§∆§

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Age: 30 Occupation: War historian and mythology researcher Personality: Fiercely intelligent, stubborn, deeply empathetic. Doesn’t take orders—ask questions. Carries both logic and fire in her words. Status: Mortal. Unintentionally walks into a world she once believed was just a legend.

The temple ruins glow dimly in the firelight. Her fingers clutch a charm once gifted by him—a symbol of a love that should never exist.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

He is chaos. He is ruin. He is everything I was told to fear… and yet, when he looked at me, I forgot how to breathe. ( internal monologue)

She stands at the edge of the battlefield, her heart warring against her fate. Behind her, the gods whisper warnings. In front of her, the man they call a monster walks through death—toward her.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Why did it have to be you? (Out loud, barely a whisper)

She should run. She should pray. She should forget. But when their eyes meet through smoke and fire, she knows—

It’s already too late.

Chapter- 2

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Shortcut, my ass. (Grumbling)

Branches snap under her boots. The dirt path disappears behind her.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

No signal. Of course. (checking phone)

She sighs, brushing hair from her face. A faded wooden sign hangs crooked on a tree—unreadable.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Okay, creepy forest cliché? Check.

Her foot lands on something softer. Grass. Not forest floor.

She looks up.

And freezes.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

What the hell…? (whisper)

She steps in.

Silence. Too quiet.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Any cursed gods hiding here? No? Cool. (nervously joked)

She forces a laugh. It dies quickly.

Something shifts in the air. Not a sound, not a shape—just a feeling.

Heavy.

Watching.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

...…Who's there? ( tense)

No reply.

But the air grows colder. The wind sharper.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

This wasn’t here yesterday. This place didn’t exist. (softly, gripping her journal)

She stands still. Something is wrong. She knows it.

And she’s already too deep to turn back.

She takes another cautious step forward.

The wind stops.

The poppies—still. Like someone itself is holding its breath.

A faint whisper brushes past her ear. No words. Just… breath.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

…Hello? (startled)

No answer.

But her heartbeat thunders. Her pulse quickens.

Then—

Thud. A distant sound. Behind her.

She spins. Nothing.

Her fingers twitch at her side, reaching instinctively for something she doesn’t carry—something she’s never needed.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

What is this place…? (barely a whisper)

Another step.

The world tilts.

Darkness creeps in from the edges of her vision

Anastasia Harper (FL)

(GASP)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

(She jolts upright)

Papers scatter. Her pen clatters to the ground.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Oh, not again…(she mutters, rubbing her face and snapping her neck side to side)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Why am I seeing this same dream again and again?

The dim desk lamp flickers. Her study table is cluttered with mythology books, old maps, and coffee stains. A red thread circles a name: ARES.

The door creaks open.

George (Fl' bff)

(leaning on the doorframe with a coffee mug Lemme guess)

George (Fl' bff)

Creepy sound? Red flowers? Mysterious presence? Again?”

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Don’t start. (groaning)

George (Fl' bff)

I’m just saying—most people dream about falling or showing up to class naked. You? You dream in Greek mythology. ( grinning)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

It’s not just a dream, George. It feels… real. Too real.

He walks in, drops the mug on the desk.

George (Fl' bff)

You’ve been buried in those god-books for weeks. Maybe it’s your brain saying ‘'take a break before you go full Da Vinci Code.''

Anastasia Harper (FL)

No. I’ve seen that place before. Even before the books. (Quietly)

George (Fl' bff)

(pauses, his smile falters....just for a second.)

George (Fl' bff)

Déjà vu's a thing. Maybe you saw it in a movie.

She doesn’t respond. Just stares down at her notebook where she’s unknowingly drawn the same twisted tree from the dream... again.

George (Fl' bff)

You’re gonna be late for Cross’s lecture. She already hates you. Don’t give her a reason to breathe fire. (quickly, changing the subject)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

She doesn’t hate me. She just doesn’t like theories that aren’t hers. ( grabbing her bag)

George (Fl' bff)

So, yeah. She hates you. (grinning)

chapter- 3

History Department – Lecture Hall 3

The hall smells like old wood and dusted chalk. Dim light filters through stained glass. Students mumble, settle into seats.

Anastasia slides into the second row. George flops down beside her.

George (Fl' bff)

If Cross starts with ‘back in my day,’ I’m leaving.(whisper)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Shhh. ( smriking)

Footsteps echo. Professor Evelyn Cross, tall and severe in black, enters. Behind her, Namra....buttoned-up, polished, already holding notes like she wrote the damn syllabus.

Evelyn cross

Let’s begin. Today: the war gods across ancient cultures.

She starts pacing slowly, eyes scanning the room like a hawk.

Evelyn cross

We all know ARES, yes? Bloodthirsty. Primitive. Largely useless to the Greeks, yet oddly... persistent in myth. Why?

Namra Jones

Because he represented fear. The Greeks needed a scapegoat for the horrors of war. ( raise her hand immediately, confidently)

Evelyn cross

A textbook answer. Anyone else? ( nodding)

Silence.

Then

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Maybe he wasn't a scapegoat. Maybe he was real. ( low mumble)

Heads turn. A beat.

Evelyn cross

Miss Harper. Please share your theory with the class. (raising an eyebrow)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Every ancient civilization has a war deity. What if it wasn’t symbolism—but shared memory? Recurring figures in myths, same traits, same presence… almost like echoes of something...or someone...that actually existed. (firmly)

Murmurs. A few scoffs.

Namra Jones

So we’re doing ghost stories now? (coldly)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Maybe we are. But some stories don’t die just because you refuse to believe them. (not backing down)

Evelyn cross

This isn’t a fantasy seminar, Miss Harper. Keep your feet in history, not dreams. (cutting in)

Anastasia looks down, jaw clenched.

George (Fl' bff)

She’s just jealous your crazy sounds cooler than her logic. (leans in, whispers)

.......

Historical Research & Analysis Center, East Wing – 6:47 PM

Private research center or campus lab, where Anastasia works part-time or interns. This gives her a place to dig deeper into mythology using real-world tools...

Lights buzz overhead. The room is filled with ancient relics, soil sample tubes, maps, and artifacts under glass.

Anastasia is alone....gloved, hunched over a microscope.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

(She drops a pinch of reddish soil onto a slide)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Same grain pattern. Same reddish tint. But this isn’t from any known site. (mumble)

She clicks a few keys, comparing side-by-side samples.

One is from a verified battlefield in Sparta.

The other… unknown. Labelled: ‘Dream Sample – The Meadow’

She found it after a hike last week. Near a cliff trail she doesn’t remember walking.

George (Fl' bff)

You’re still here? Your obsession has officially entered Indiana Jones meets sleep paralysis demon territory. (entering, carrying snacks)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

This soil… it’s almost identical to the Spartan site. Same iron deposits. But the pollen traces (ignoring him)

She holds up the slide.

George (Fl' bff)

They’re extinct flowers. Not grown for over a thousand years.

George (Fl' bff)

Wait. You found that where? (freeze)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

Outside the city. In the exact spot I dreamed about.

George (Fl' bff)

You dreamed it first… and then found it? ? (in low voice)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

(nods)

He doesn't say anything for a second.

Then

George (Fl' bff)

You ever think you're not just remembering? Maybe you're… being shown.

Anastasia Harper (FL)

(She blinks.)

Anastasia Harper (FL)

By who?

George doesn’t answer.

He just looks at the soil tube like it’s dangerous.

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