ARES : God of War & Violence 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)