In another room, Menrva jolted awake, realizing that she had fallen asleep.
“Damn it, when did I lose consciousness?” she asked herself.
Then the goddess tried to look out the window, only to realize there were no windows. In fact, she was not in the room of Ana’s cabin at all. She knew that chamber very well. It was the room where she had lived when she was younger.
It was a sumptuous room, filled with towering bookshelves and statues of the goddess Athena. The ceiling held a domed skylight with a beautiful depiction of the Judgment of Paris. Upon the tallest bookshelf sat a copper owl with blue eyes, watching the goddess. Natural light entered through the dome, bathing the room in golden illumination.
The walls were painted vermilion red, with beautiful white Corinthian columns. High above, surrounding the dome, elegant white curtains with golden embroidery draped the ceiling.
The floor was adorned with rugs made from leopard and lion pelts, and dark Greek vases stood around the room.
Menrva lay upon her bed, and before her stood a great oak door, completely barred shut with a golden beam. The goddess reached for her totema, but realized it was only a simple mirror, and her face looked as it had when she was an eight-year-old girl.
“Why am I here? Is this some illusion?” she wondered as she stepped down from the golden bed with crimson sheets and placed her feet upon the carpet covering the floor.
The goddess searched her circular chamber for anyone or anything, but saw nothing.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” the goddess called. “Father Tinia? Mother Uni? Brothers Laran, Hercle?”
There was no answer. The goddess then began knocking on the door.
“Father Tinia? Mother Uni? Brothers Laran, Hercle?” she called again, but there was still no response.
Menrva then began to feel anxious.
“No, please, let me out of here, I don’t want to be locked in here again,” she cried, pounding harder against the door in desperation.
“I swear I’ll abandon these fantasies of becoming a goddess of war, Father Tinia. I don’t want to be shut away in here again,” she continued, shouting desperately.
At last, the door began to open. Behind it stood a familiar figure, looking at the Etruscan goddess with repulsion.
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“Brother Laran. Have you come to help me escape again?” Menrva asked anxiously and in surprise. A great smile spread across her face.
Laran wore a bronze helmet with two horns at its sides and an enormous red-feathered crest; a bronze breastplate shining like gold; a reddish linen skirt covered by a bronze loincloth; and his legs and arms were protected by bronze greaves and bracers as well. The god had beautiful blue eyes, hair as dark as night, and a conciliatory smile.
“Idiot, what is all this noise you are making?” Laran asked with a forced smile.
“Brother, I don’t understand. Why am I here again?” Menrva asked in confusion.
“Well, I came to understand that letting you escape was a mistake,” the Etruscan god said with that same singular smile.
“But... why? I fled from Man just as you told me to, and I never set foot here again,” the goddess said, bewildered.
Then Laran slapped his sister and sent her sprawling onto her back across the floor.
“I am the god of war of the rasenna, not you. But everyone adores you more because of your obsession with becoming Athena’s whore,” the Etruscan god continued, tears in his eyes.
“Wait, brother, why are you doing this?” Menrva said, trying to rise, blood in her mouth. “You were never like this with me.”
“Women in Rasenna are not allowed to do the things we men do. That is why Father locked you in here, because all you ever wanted was to be a warrior,” Laran shouted through tears as he struck Menrva again. This time he hurled her into one of the bookshelves, which shattered on impact.
“Stop, brother! It was you who used to sneak into this room and teach me how to fight, how to use thunder, because our father refused to do so,” Menrva cried.
“I feel nothing but love and admiration for you!” the Etruscan goddess shouted.
“A lie. You only love that Athena, and never me,” Laran said, this time driving a kick into the goddess that sent her crashing through the rest of the bookshelves. They broke apart, and the papyrus rained down upon the Etruscan goddess, burying her beneath them.
“I was meant to be the most adored god in Rasenna, not you. A pitiful, worthless woman,” the god continued, tears still in his eyes, as he dragged Menrva from the pile of papyrus, battered and bleeding from the mouth.
“Brother, this isn’t you. You’re being manipulated by an evil spirit... Coyote,” Menrva said, her eyes shut because she could barely open them any longer.
“But what I hate most is that, despite everything I taught you,” Laran said, “you have become nothing but a burden to those fucking bitches you travel with,” he shouted in fury, slamming the goddess against the wall and cracking it while Menrva bled from all over her body.
“I’m... sor...ry, Laran,” Menrva said through tears as the Etruscan god let his sister drop onto the pile of papyrus, which she stained with blood. The goddess breathed heavily and could no longer see anything.
“There is no forgiveness, idiot,” Laran said, and began crushing her under his foot again and again, while the Etruscan goddess started to lose consciousness.
Menrva looked on in horror at pieces of her own body scattered among the papyrus. Her little feet, her legs, her entrails. Yet Laran kept stamping down on her with greater and greater force.
“So this is the end?” Menrva asked herself, sadness in her mangled, dying face. “Forgive me... Master.”
Then Laran stamped down on the goddess’s face, and her world went completely dark.