The Martians

ARES MANGAL-GRAH

After what feels like an eternity, Ares detects the approach of footsteps, their rhythm breaking the silence of his isolation. One set is quick, the familiar pace of Faraday, filled with an almost childlike eagerness. The second set, however, is slower, each step a labored drag, as if the walker carries with them the weight of time itself.

Then, cutting through the air, comes a gasp from the new voice, a sound that seems to carry both surprise and ancient knowledge, hinting at secrets yet to be unveiled.

Faraday's voice is laced with irritation as he asks, "What?"

The new voice remains silent, but Ares hears the approach, the footsteps slowing as they near him. A hand touches his face, the skin feeling like aged parchment, dry and thin, the touch gentle yet imbued with the weight of years.

Then, the voice whispers, a breath of air against his skin, "Light bringer."

Faraday's exasperation is palpable, "Have you finally gone senile, old woman? Ahhh, I swallowed my pride and asked a senile hag for help, damn it all!"

The voice, carrying a command in its wispy tone, responds, "Calm down, Faraday."

Once Faraday quiets, she inquires, "He can't open his eyes, you said?"

If Faraday replied, Ares couldn't tell, but the woman continued undeterred.

"Why not close the blinds then?"

Faraday's reply drips with sarcasm, "Gee, why didn't I think of that? It's a temporary solution, you damn hag, a temporary solution. We need him to travel with us. Are you going to tie his eyes the entire time we're traveling?"

"Fine, fine, I got it, no need to yell. So, are you finally ready to admit magic is superior to science?"

"Never!" Faraday's voice rises to a high-pitched scream, "Science is logical, factual. There's order to it. Magic is simply science yet to be understood, I tell you."

The woman chuckles, "Sure."

Then Ares feels a cold hand on his closed eyelids.

There's a tingling sensation, followed by a burning that soon turns to a soothing coolness.

The hand withdraws, and he hears the old woman say, her voice a whisper of command and promise, "Open your eyes."

Ares opens his eyes slowly, bracing for the agony of light, but there's none. The light is dimmer, somehow manageable; whatever the woman did must have adjusted his eyes' sensitivity. On Mars, such adjustments were the domain of technology, but he'd never heard of any technique that could achieve this with mere touch. Her method fascinated him.

He fully opens his eyes now, taking in the ceiling above before his gaze shifts. From the corner of his eye, he sees the woman. Her face is a map of time, skin wrinkled like the dried riverbeds of Mars, her cheeks sunken, and her lips thin, almost disappearing into the lines of her face. But it's her eyes that capture his attention—completely white, devoid of any color, the irises lost to the cataracts of age. She's blind, yet she had healed his vision. Ares wonders, in his mind, why she doesn't use her technique to restore her own sight. Perhaps her power is severely limited, or there's a cost to such magic that he can't yet fathom.

As Ares is lost in thought, a face suddenly looms into his sight, startlingly close, almost touching his own. The voice, casual yet eager, says, "Yo."

This must be Faraday, Ares deduces. His hair is a chaotic crown of tight, curly locks, unruly and vibrant, like a storm of dark clouds. His face bears the rough stubble of days without a razor, giving him an air of premature aging, though Ares estimates they're of a similar age.

But it's Faraday's eyes that truly capture Ares's attention—there's a spark there, a wild, bright light that reminds Ares of Athena's own gaze. It's the look of a mind racing, desperate to unravel the mysteries of existence, the universe spread out like a puzzle before him. Ares can't help but think that Faraday, like his sister, might be a genius, driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

Faraday's grin stretches wide, his eyes gleaming with recognition, "Oi, you've got the same eyes as me. You must be a genius too, ahahaha!"

Ares is taken aback, thinking, Is he a mind reader? They were thinking the exact same thing.

Faraday's laughter rings out, "Ohh, I can't wait for you to open your mouth, ahahaha, so much to say, so much to ask!"

He pauses, then turns to the old woman with a demand, "Oi, hag, do that magic thingy to his jaws too."

The woman, her voice firm, says, "No."

Faraday's jaw drops, "Ahhh? Are you freaking kidding me?"

She sighs, almost to herself, "This kid, too much energy, so annoying."

"Listen," she says to Faraday, her tone instructional, "I worked on his eyes because it'll causes the least bit of problems for him. Anything more and it interferes with his recovery. Trust me, it's best to let him recover on his own."

Faraday clicks his tongue, his voice laden with sarcasm, "Trust me, trust me, she says. I'd trust a snake before I trust you!" He storms off, his annoyance palpable in every step.

Faraday clicks his tongue, his tone dripping with mockery, "Trust me, trust me, she says. I'd sooner trust a fox than you," he says, storming off in annoyance.

The woman watches him leave, her blind eyes seemingly following his path. When she's certain he's gone, she turns back to Ares, her voice lowering to a whisper, "Listen, child, I have something to tell you."

She leans in closer, her voice a whisper that seems to slither into Ares's ears, "This is probably the only time we're going to be able to speak in private. I'm sure you're wondering why I couldn't heal my own eyes but adjust yours. Magic is... magic is complicated."

Ares thinks, his mind racing, What is going on with these people? Can they actually read minds?

The woman goes on, her words cryptic, "You'll understand when it's time. For now, just survive, no matter what."

The echo of his father's last words to him hits Ares like a physical blow, his heart sinking with the weight of memory.

She speaks with urgency, "This world needs you, Light Bringer. It needs you so very much. But Earth, and its people are cruel; they have no regard for prophecies or destinies. Special or not. Chosen or not. If you cross paths with a malicious foe, they will kill you. There have been others like you, Light Bringers, saviors of Earth. But the world swallowed them whole."

Her voice drops even lower, to the point where Ares strains to catch her words despite her proximity.

"You must live, Son of Mars. But then, when the time comes, you must die and be reborn. This is the only way."

Die? Reborn? What is this woman talking about? Ares thinks, his confusion morphing into panic. She's definitely senile, just as Faraday said. He mentally screams for Faraday, preferring his brand of madness over this bewildering prophecy.

She continues, her voice tight with urgency, "This world needs you, Light Bringer. It needs you so very much. But Earth, and its people are cruel; they have no regard for prophecies, destinies or fate. Special or not. Chosen or not. If you cross paths with a malicious foe, they will kill you. There have been others like you, Light Bringers, supposed saviors of Earth. But the world swallowed them whole."

"You must live, Son of Mars. But then, when the time comes, you must die and be reborn. This is the only way."

Die? Reborn? What is this woman talking about? Ares thinks, his confusion morphing into panic.

She's definitely senile, just as Faraday said. He mentally screams for Faraday, preferring his brand of madness over this bewildering rambling.

The woman adds, "I know you're dying to know of your family's fate. Unfortunately, I cannot help you with that. Maybe you'll find them, maybe you won't. But I know your path is long and perilous. Many times it will break you, many times you will fail. But I beg of you, Light Bringer, do not give up, I beg of you."

Ares feels his heart clench; his priority is his family, and to reclaim his home. He simply cannot promise her anything, despite her pleas.

As her words fade, she reaches out, her hand trembling slightly as she touches his cheek.

She then turns and walks away, her steps slow but purposeful. "What a dark and glorious time ahead," she mutters to herself, a hint of regret in her tone, "A shame I won't see it."