Half an hour earlier—right after Tania came to her senses and began to face Sekhmet—

  Ana stood in a combat stance before Ishtar and Ninshubur. Both sides were positioned atop two ruined buildings, separated by a stretch of broken Martian city.

  “A moment ago, I believe I witnessed one of your finest techniques… did I not? And yet it could not even tickle me,” Ishtar said, while Ninshubur looked at her with profound admiration.

  “I admit it was my mistake,” Ana replied with a smile. “I couldn’t think clearly with my friend in that state. But don’t worry—I won’t make such blunders again.”

  “I am a Venus, and you are a Saturn. That means my sacred power is your weakness,” Ishtar declared.

  “And likewise, my dark power is yours,” Ana answered.

  “A dark power that feeble could never harm me,” Ishtar said, laughing.

  “It’s true… Ever since I finished my training, I’ve felt this weakness. As if my body were heavier— even my dark power feels diminished,” Ana thought, but she forced the notion away.

  “Then tell me,” Ishtar asked with a smile, “what will you do to try to stop me, Morrigan?”

  “I already told you—don’t call me that. My name is Ana,” the Irish goddess snapped.

  “Lady Ishtar may call you whatever she pleases!” Ninshubur said with a mocking grin.

  “Peace, Nin,” Ishtar interrupted. “Let us be honorable warriors, and respect the name by which she wishes to be known.”

  “You are always so magnanimous, Lady Ishtar!” Ninshubur replied, thrilled.

  “Very well, Ana,” Ishtar said as her wings lifted. “Let us see what you can do against me.”

  With that, the goddess lunged, scythe-sword in hand, aiming to cleave Ana in one motion—yet Ana unfurled her dark wings and formed a shield before herself, saying:

  “Sciath dorcha (Dark blanket).”

  “Impossible!” Ishtar roared, pressing her legendary blade against the barrier. “A mere shield should not be able to stop my attack!”

  “This is no ordinary shield,” Ana replied with a smile. “It is called Dubán, a recreation of the legendary shield once wielded by the hero Cú Chulainn.”

  “If it is a replica, it cannot possibly be so strong!” Ishtar shouted, leaping back when she failed to break it.

  “You don’t understand my power,” Ana said calmly. “If I touch a legendary weapon, I can create an exact replica of it. Weapons as powerful as this shield—or my sword Dyrnwyn—carry strength far beyond common arms, because they were forged and enriched by human faith… by the hands that wielded them.”

  Then Ana dismissed Dyrnwyn—and in both hands, two blades appeared: Caladcholg and Fragarach.

  “And these two swords increase my combat speed,” she added.

  “So now you’ll fight seriously?” Ishtar smiled, shifting into stance. A brilliant blue, eight-pointed star appeared upon her forehead.

  Both goddesses sprang forward.

  Ishtar’s scythe pierced part of Ana’s abdomen—yet at the very same instant, Ana cut clean through the Mesopotamian goddess’s torso with both blades. Both made a pained sound.

  They tore their weapons free and began to clash, again and again, their wounds healing as quickly as they were made. Each strike unleashed shockwaves that shattered what remained of the Martian ruins. Ninshubur watched, unable to follow their speed at all.

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  Ishtar carved Ana—Ana carved Ishtar. Ishtar struck—Ana raised Dubán. Ana countered—Ishtar blocked with the shaft of her scythe. The exchange dragged on, both proving nearly equal in divine power.

  At last, their weapons collided with a thunderous crack, and both goddesses separated—landing several meters apart upon the Martian ground.

  “It seems we have the same power,” Ishtar said, cracking her neck as her wounds sealed rapidly.

  “Actually… we don’t,” Ana replied. “I will win this fight.”

  Ana flooded both swords with dark energy and shouted:

  “Fuinneamh dorcha (Dark Energy)!”

  Orbs of dark power burst from her blades and shot toward the Mesopotamian goddess.

  Ishtar spun her scythe to deflect the impact—when suddenly she heard Ninshubur scream:

  “Lady! Above you!”

  Ana had used the barrage as cover. She struck from the sky, and above Ishtar she cried:

  “Beanna an bháis (Crow of Death)!”

  Two lines of purple light erupted from Ana’s blades, plunging downward at terrifying speed. Thanks to Ninshubur’s warning, Ishtar barely avoided it—yet the attack tore two enormous holes into the Martian surface.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had this much fun,” Ishtar said, rising after the near miss.

  Ana landed directly before her, both swords drawn.

  “Gu Ur-mah mur (Lion's roar)!” Ishtar roared.

  A gigantic lion’s face manifested behind her—and with a swift extension of her arms, Ishtar released sonic shockwaves that struck Ana head-on. A monstrous lion’s roar thundered through the ruins as Ana was hurled into the shattered remains of the Martian city.

  “What do you think of my ‘Lion’s Roar’?” Ishtar asked, while Ninshubur screamed in excitement.

  Ana rose, drenched in blood—her organs had burst under the impact. Yet her body regenerated quickly.

  “Not bad,” she said. “But I can do better.”

  “Truly?” Ishtar replied with a grin. “Then prove it.”

  Again she spread her arms and cried:

  “Gu Ur-mah mur!”

  The lion’s visage reappeared, unleashing massive soundwaves—waves that felt as though they tore through the mind itself.

  But Ana bent slightly, opened her mouth, and screamed:

  “Scread banshee (Banshee scream)!”

  A shriek like a world-ending wail erupted from Ana—so brutal that Ninshubur clapped her hands over her ears, yet blood still began to pour between her fingers.

  The soundwaves collided as both goddesses intensified their power.

  And in the end, Ana’s scream shredded the lion’s roar. Ishtar took the full impact—her eardrums and even her eyes exploded as she was flung backward across the vast Martian desert.

  Ana fell silent, then began to laugh.

  “See?” she said with a hoarse smile, drawing breath as if she had nearly emptied her lungs. “I told you my banshee is stronger than your ridiculous lion.”

  Ishtar rose, panting. That attack had truly hurt her—though her wounds were already sealing.

  She lifted her scythe and cast a gale toward Ana, shouting:

  “Si-il Gúr (Stormy wind cut)!”

  But Ana only smiled again and said:

  “Taibhse banríon (Ghost Queen).”

  Her body split into hundreds of ravens that swept across the battlefield, evading the wind attack entirely.

  “So you’ve made yourself incorporeal!” Ishtar shouted in fury, sending multiple cutting waves with her scythe—none of which could harm Ana in that form.

  “But while you remain like that, you cannot attack me either,” Ishtar continued, “and all you’ll accomplish is consuming more time.”

  “Do you think I cannot attack?” Ana’s voice echoed across the entire area.

  Several ravens began to glow with a purple aura and dove at Ishtar at high speed. The Queen of Uruk spun her scythe in a furious blur, but some ravens slipped through—piercing her chest, abdomen, legs, and arms. Ishtar groaned in pain.

  Then she looked up.

  The ravens still in the sky were circling faster and faster above her, drawing closer and closer—until, like a lightning bolt, the flock twisted into the shape of a drill and impaled Ishtar before she could defend herself.

  “No, Lady Ishtar!” Ninshubur cried, drawing her sword—only to be stopped by Ishtar’s voice.

  “This is nothing… yet,” Ishtar said.

  She screamed and unleashed a surge of white energy. The ravens were forced apart—burning, falling to the ground.

  Those that remained intact dove again, as Ishtar rose after tearing herself free from the impalement.

  Seeing them, the Queen of Uruk shouted:

  “Zi-sha-ghal Nigh-si-sá (Divine justice)!”

  The Martian sky flared with sacred light, and a massive holy explosion detonated—hundreds of meters wide. The dark birds caught within it disintegrated.

  Wounded ravens and scattered feathers regrouped, and Ana emerged from among them—badly injured.

  “If I hadn’t trained with Myrddin to resist the sacred element, I would’ve died just now,” she thought.

  “Well then,” Ishtar laughed, “where is the girl who claimed I couldn’t defeat her if she turned incorporeal?”

  Ana was panting, grievously wounded—her ichor was beginning to run low.

  Yet Ishtar’s massive wound— the gaping hole in her abdomen—had already closed. Worse still: a white aura now surrounded her, as though she were a messenger of light itself.

  “This fight is over,” Ishtar declared.

  Note:

  Banshees were spirits whose screams drove people crazy.

  ============================================================

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