--Astarte stood in the shadow of Hecate’s villa, looking down at a small nearby village. She imagined it must have been a bustling little place full of life once. But she could smell nothing but the decay of Hecate’s magic. If anyone had ever lived there, they died when Hecate arrived and sucked everything good out of this place—or wished they had. Was Gilgamesh right? Suddenly, Kali was there beside her.

--"This island is but a sample of what the future holds. The world will know my embrace and cherish it. The dead will give me glorious power." She laughed, sharp and breathy, then turned away and slipped into the shadows.

--Astarte walked back to the spell chamber to see how Hecate was progressing. Hecate looked up from her work.

--"I see that Gilgamesh is not with you."

--Astarte did not like her tone. She could tell that Hecate knew he had abandoned her and was just baiting her. Never reveal too much of yourself to those you don’t trust. Astarte merely shrugged her shoulder as if it weren’t important. "He has gone."

--"Too bad, I’m sure. He was a good warrior, but only a man after all. Even though he was immortal, his heart and mind were not those of a god. His presence is of no consequence, for he too shall fall to our power." Hecate had the Jewel floating in a cauldron to soak up the potion’s evil power. Astarte saw that the cauldron was full of some red liquid. Blood. Hecate followed Astarte’s gaze. "A very potent ingredient in any spell, especially when freely given. Kali still has many loyal followers who would cut out their own hearts for her. In fact, they did."

--Astarte found no humor in Hecate’s words—only disgust. But she hid her feelings. "It is impressive to have such loyal followers. I shall have to acquire some myself."

--"And so you shall, child. And so you shall." Hecate’s interest drifted back to her spell as if Astarte had already gone.

--Astarte could not wait to escape the stench of that room. She felt unclean after only being there for several minutes. She had only wanted the respect and devotion she’d basked in when she was worshipped throughout Europe and the Middle East so long ago. Respect and devotion she’d earned through generosity and mercy. Hecate and Kali cared nothing for the mortals. They didn’t want to be worshipped so much as they wanted to destroy and torment. She had known that all along, but had chosen to ignore their twisted desires. Astarte had to ask herself—how badly did she want to be a powerful goddess again?