Eighty thousand years ago, Mars was not the desolate, rust-colored sphere we know today. It was a verdant jewel, teeming with life and illuminated by the advancements of a civilisation far beyond anything Earth had ever conceived. The Martians, a people of profound intellect and innovation, had mastered interstellar travel; their sleek, luminescent spaceships traversed galaxies with effortless ease.

They knew of Earth, a vibrant young world, and in their wisdom, they lent their expertise to its burgeoning civilisations. It was their celestial architects who guided the construction of the Great Pyramids, etching an enduring mystery into Earth’s history, a testament to otherworldly intervention that baffled scientists for millennia.

Martian flying objects were a common sight in Earth’s ancient skies, brief, shimmering visitations from a benevolent race.

But even a civilisation as advanced as the Martians could not escape the ancient, destructive pull of pride and power. Like the unavoidable clash of ideologies that once engulfed ancient Earth in the Mahabharata, Mars found itself teetering on the precipice of its cataclysm. Nations, once united under the banner of progress, fractured into factions.

Whispers of supremacy escalated into shouts, then roars, as a relentless ambition to dominate the entirety of Martian civilisation took hold. The peace that had flourished for millennia began to crumble, giving way to a chilling fervour for war. 

The conflict, once ignited, became an unstoppable conflagration. The Martians possessed weaponry that dwarfed Earth’s most destructive inventions—devices capable of unimaginable devastation, akin to the mythical ‘Brahmastra’, though without the wisdom of a Krishna to hold them in check.

Both sides, blinded by fury and the desire for ultimate victory, unleashed their arsenals. Atomic fire rained down from the skies. The very fabric of Mars groaned under the assault. There was the eruptions of volcanoes. Rivers, once mighty arteries of life, vaporised in an instant, their beds becoming parched, gaping scars. Oceans, vast and deep, boiled away, leaving behind only vast, dry plains where marine life once thrived. The atmosphere itself became a toxic shroud, choked with radioactive fallout, rendering the surface uninhabitable in a single, horrifying epoch. 

Yet, life found a way. A desperate few, those who foresaw the impending doom or were simply fortunate, managed to escape the apocalypse above. They burrowed deep, three kilometres beneath the scarred surface, constructing vast, self-sustaining cities. There, shielded from the poisoned air and relentless radiation, they rebuilt, preserving their culture and technology in the silent, subterranean depths.

To this day, they thrive, a secret civilization nestled within the core of a seemingly dead planet, a testament to resilience hidden from the superficial gaze of Earth’s telescopes. We are not aware of this fact. Our knowledge is still superficial. 

Others, the true wanderers, chose a different path. Boarding their remaining flying objects, they tore through the ravaged skies and vanished into the cosmic tapestry, seeking new habitable worlds among the distant galaxies. Perhaps they found a new home, a new Eden to cultivate.

And perhaps, sometimes, they return. The unexplained UFO sightings that pepper Earth’s history might not be distant invaders, but rather the fleeting glimpses of these ancient Martian exiles, checking in on their ancient protégé, a silent reminder of a forgotten past and a hidden future.

Mars, the crimson planet, still holds its secrets deep within its heart.