You were a devoted believer of the god of war, giving him prayers without asking for anything in return. There were hard times, the war was protracted and cruel, you knew that it was hard for God now and you sincerely wished that it would be easier for him to go through all this.
One day you were combing your hair in front of the mirror and heard a crackling sound in the air, after which you felt breathing behind your back and a soft touch on your hands. “Don’t be afraid...” he said tenderly, his hands were shaking and his clothes were stained with blood... he was needed support.