Of Gods and Warriors ✓

Chapter 83

Snowflakes hovered in the air. The grand dome of ice overhead rumbled beneath the onslaught of celestial powers bursting from the heavens, all the forces of nature mingled in a single lethal stream of attacks.

Naught of the disaster that went down beyond the ice was audible save for a muffled, steady thrum against the dome that shook the ground. Firelight glinting at his frosty scales, Edis stood at the very heart of Byton in his true form, hoisting the ice-shield with his back and wings. Mist issued from his flaring nares as the attacks of the Gods rose to a more severe degree.

The besieged city was all quiet, both sides of the war stunned into silence. Eyes rose to the God of Winter in fear and reverence.

And underneath it all, overshadowed by the magnificent silver dragon, stood a much lesser known God, faced with a decision no less burdensome than what Edis bore upon his spiked shoulders. On the ground, the many Chains writhed like snakes, covering the streets in a grotesque tapestry.

Pertheran raised his arms, palms up in surrender, face set into a firm expression.

"Kill me," he said.

The God stood in stubborn silence, eyes squinted shut.

Yet time was running out. The ice shield would not hold forever.

"Lord Xenro!" cried Pertheran, "is this really the time to hesitate? There are those who are more deserving of your kindness than I. All Stormvale is at your mercy!"

Painful moments passed until he opened his eyes again, the crumbling world reflected in them.

"I was cast away from the Celestial Realms because I refused to kill," he said. "I grew weary of the mindless violence that would rage there, so very disgusted with myself when I was made to slay innocents. The creation and onslaught of the undead Vasaen, it is no new thing. Souls of the sacrificed mortals would turn up, and I was there to...clean up the mess. I left, thinking perhaps there was another way to resolve it all. Another way that did not involve slaughter and bloodshed. Yet here I am."

Xenro could have laughed at himself. Under Rhilio's command, he'd killed so many without hesitation. And now?

"I'm of the same kind whose corrupt blood taints your blade," said Pertheran, "is killing me really any different from the hundreds you have slain these few days?"

"It would not be, had you not risked your own life and endured endless torture for an enemy you deemed honorable. Had you not gotten us out of the dungeons of Glasswolf and indebted us to you forever. I am none to dictate what is absolute good or evil. But you, in my eyes, are noble."

A strained smile lit Pertheran's face.

"Divine mercy, that. Save it for the people of this land--and not for a foul monster."

"Strange is this land where Gods are cruel and monsters are kind." Xenro lowered his head, streaks of golden hair falling over his eyes. His fist clenching the grip of his sword trembled.

Destruction raged above, reflected in the rippling puddles left by the rain.

Pertheran's smile flickered away, replaced by a desperate gleam in his brimming eyes. He flexed his fingers claw-like, assuming an attacking stance.

He lunged at the God.

He was still a Vasaen, the first of his kind no less. He threw blows, bare-handed, enough to rival another immortal.

"Will you kill me if I leap on you as a monster?" he screamed even as Xenro dodged his attacks, too effortless and swift. "Will you kill me if only to save yourself?"