Hephaestus had been moving for two straight weeks with only one thing on his perpetual mind.

He managed to see much of this world, virgin to the thought of gods. Yet still so familiar. He had come across men and creatures alike. All sorts of terrors were still plentiful in the crevices of the world. At least that much had not changed. But while these creatures and these men posed no suitable threat to his might, as he entered the frigid north and the blistering powers of winter, he could feel his power weaken. This body was so ill-suited. The pained voices of the burned-out soul he has captured cried out as its energies were drained, and his own presence faded. He will not last long without finding a new host, and he knows this. He knew it as soon as he emerged what he must do. He still has forged, he still had the fire, and he still had his hammer. If this mortal body should fail him soon, he shall create one of his own of the strongest of metals. And the new gods will know his wrath as he wreaked havoc upon men.

But that thought came back to him. Godslayers. The concept sickened him to his core. Even in the warring era, even upon armageddon when men acquired arms to decimate their own gods, not yet would such a word be created. Men given the power of gods is a heresy above unnatural or insulting. It was a threat to his very being. He carried the knowledge from this mortal he has gripped, what these so-called godslayers, who called themselves Theurgy, were capable of. But he has encountered one and was not at all impressed with what he had showcased. Perhaps these men of Theurgy were just like all other mortals then, as insignificant and only boasting false prowess they sorely lack. Well, he is sure he will find out. As he traveled, he knew he ould be followed and that those very same godslayers will try their once more to eliminate him before he reaches his forge and regains even a sliver of his power.

This land of eternal winter, the mortals know it as Frostland, holds ancient powers. As ancient as his own. He felt as if he was stepping into the territory of something else, yet it did not respond to him, so he kept moving. He shall not be impeded. The very land morphed and shifted under his presence. The snows melted and ice shattered. The wild creatures fled as the bare earth long-hidden was revealed. The scattered forests groaned in protest. As a god, the world responded as if he was its focal. And he drew ever closer to his end goal. But the further in he went; still, he felt power leave him. He was a leaking bucket, with no way to patch his holes now. And he was as vulnerable as he ever could be. So when he entered a very peculiar area, he knew something was wrong when he saw it.

The landscape suddenly shifted, the trees no longer plentiful, and opened into this extreme environment. Spires of what appeared the be rock and ice seemed to sprout from the ground, and the strong winter winds dashed through them. Each was of immense size, at the very least fifty men across. Their jagged points stabbed the skies and loomed over the ground. Some even penetrated another at odd angles, creating a maze of structures with only one clear path along that was obviously carved out by intelligent hands. This is what stopped him in his tracks; there was something intelligent in their design and intention; he could sense it. And it bothered him. He felt the cold return in force, a wind billowing out from the heavens. His rocky skin barely felt it, but it was there. Power was clearly present here and refused to show itself.

"Why isn't he moving in?" Lyse whispered to himself behind one of the several pillars overlooking the entrance to this forest of ice spires. He could see the faint figure of the god, his black and ashy exterior making him stand out in the bare snow. He had felt him before he ever arrived. The pendants he carried, each of them screamed out at his appearance, and that surely did not help his nerves. He held his breath closed, only barely peaking around the ice pillar he hid behind. Hephaestus still did not move an inch, examining the pillars like they were a threatening beast. Did he know? Lyse looked across from him, on the other side of the path to where Edlund and Makyra also waited. They both looked pale, Makyra a bit paler than usual. They looked to him for some sort of signal, anything to allow the plan to go underway. Lyse signaled that the enemy has halted and wait for further instructions. They both looked apprehensive then. This is their only chance to stall him long enough. If they fail, they will be forced to race him to his destination and fight him on his own turf.

The wind stirred in a frenzy, unnaturally so. Instead of a simple direction, it seemed to slide off of the pillars themselves to berate the three of them from all sides. Then, it froze. Lyse had a sudden chill up his spine, an instinctual need to flee or hide. It was worse than the feeling of nervousness that Hephaestus imposed upon them. Something about this feeling was primal, archaic. Then, he looked down, and he saw that Hephaestus had lifted his hand. His lungs were stuck in his throat as he saw the fire and brimstone that bubbled within the open cracks of Hephaetsus's skin suddenly pooled to the pal of his hands. A bright light terminated from him as if he was suddenly engulfed by a star. And then, like the release of a bolt of lightning, a massive blast of fire and rock jutted from him all at once. The heat was intense, and Lyse had to withdraw not to be singed. For one awful moment, he had thought that the blast was meant for them, but instead, it hooked into the sky, completely missing both Edlund, Makyra, and him. The ice became slick from the heat, but he situated himself to keep his balance. The clouds were parted and dispersed by the excessive heat. Lyse looked to where that attack had gone, waiting for something to respond. Then, he heard it. The ground rumbled, and the sky tore as a shriek of such anger and hatred ripped through them all in an instant. The winds once more buffered, stronger, and more rigid than before. Lyse knew what it was. They all knew what it was. An ancient creature thought to be extinct in the Frostlands, a terrible monster that puts many of its relatives to shame. The winter winds fly upon its wings, and the coldest of ice and water brandished its mouth. The flapping of leathery wings covered in fur zipped through the remaining cloud and revealed the visage of a giant white dragon. A Frostlandian White Dragon.

As it barreled down towards Hephaestus, they could do nothing but stare in awe as it passed them by and unleashed a torrent of ice and wind upon its prey. Its large form spanned the entire entrance to the path, even with its wings tucked into size, and wind following it made Lyse's face go numb with the cold. The ice and wind slammed into Hephaestus like a falling cannonball, and he was engulfed inside a hail of winter. Ice began forming crystalline structures around where Hephaestus had stood, like the air itself had flash frozen. The dragon kept this current as it landed, focusing only on Hephaestus. The front side of fur was singed terrible and scaled flaked off. But the Dragon looked far angrier over any affliction of pain. When the Dragon finally ceased its assault, they were finally able to see the result. Spires of ice, similar to what they now stood on, displayed a starburst pointing away from Hephaestus. And within one of these many spires, they could see the figure of Hephaestus frozen solid.

"A dragon," Lyse heard Edlund whisper in a stir of fear and awe. "It can't be."

"Did it do the trick?" Lyse looked to Makyra, who looked down intensely on the scene. The dragon stalked closer, observing with a keen intelligence what it had caught. Everything became chillingly still as they waited for anything to signal any further occurrence. But they knew that this would be too easy to secure a god. Lyse could see the faint glow of Hephaestus's form. And he heard the groan and hissing of ice rapidly turning to gas as suddenly the spire that he was captured within burst with steam and water. The fury and heat from Hephaestus were unreal to behold as he leaped from the ground, already holding a massive hammer in both hands and slamming it into the side of the dragon's skull. The dragon crumpled from the massive blow that echoed from the trees and spires. It thrashed out with tooth and claw as it fell on its side. Lyse was dumbfounded by the strength. Hephaestus landed in the snow behind the dragon's tail. IT whipped about, slamming down where Hephaestus was and forcing him back. The dragon was most definitely hurt but still ferocious and active. IT turned within a moment and launched another winter assault, but this time Hephaestus held up his hammer, and a shield of faint yellow light sprung out to protect him. But he was not unmoved; he was being moved backward, towards the entrance of the path.

Lyse held the signal out to hold, though he was sure their eyes were glued to the scene before them. The dragon was trying to force him against one of the spires, which Edlund and Makyra hid atop. But as long as he was below them, it was all they needed. They waited, Hephaestus appearing to struggle against the Dragon.

"Pathetic creature," he bellowed. His other hand was outstretched, and within it, another hammer was summoned, identical to the first. "Know your place."

With a hefty swing, the hammer impacted not the Dragon but the ground. The ground rippled with an invisible power s a fissure formed directly under the dragon. And in an instant, another black of lava launched, engulfing the dragon. Sprays of liquid fire splattered the ground around them, turning instantly into black stone as it was squelched in the bleached ground. A roar, drenched in pain, upheaved from the very winds, and it succeeded at ceasing the dragon's rampage. But this was it. The dragon was unexpected but ultimately will only serve to play into Lyse's favor. Hephaestus was there beneath them right now. They only had one opportunity, one moment in time to do this, or all they have done will be wasted. He signaled to the others to strike the ice towers right then and there. Lyse conjured every ounce of strength he had into the sword he pulled forth. And like that, his blade was engulfed in a bright light that leaped from the blade from its tenacity. So much aura contained within a blade, he forced it to conform, channeling it on the very edge of his blade as he swung and slammed it straight into the ice pillar. Aura launched through his blade, and like that, the entire thickness of the pillar was sliced evenly in half and was sent crumbling down where Hephaestus now stood beneath them. Edlund succeeded in the same feet, sending his own to fall shortly after Lyse's. Hephaestus looked up as hundreds of tons of ice fell from the sky upon him, and his only reaction was to raise his hammer and shout. This blow, though mighty, will not be his end. No, not even two times this. But, this was not their aim, as they had yet another plan in mind. As the ice fell around him, he could see, for the briefest of moments, what appeared to be a small flame ignite suddenly in response to the cold air. This perplexed him, but before he could question it, a resounding explosion echoed from beneath and engulfed him In a rocking force of gunpowder. Moxie had used all their supplies, nearly ten tons of gunpowder, to achieve it; the entire thing rigged to explode once anything disturbed the mechanism. Then, from within the tree lines, lying and waiting, Evey man and woman who could hold a gun let loose shot after shot into he chaos. It was more than likely to do nothing, but any little thing counted. This god need to die here.

The ground rumbled from these consecutive impacts, one after another, as the ground was enveloped in smoke and billowing clouds of snow tossed into the air around them. The mountains to the far east echoed the strain of the earth. Lyse, Edlund, and Makyra held tightly to whatever holds they could find not to topple off the platform they had just created. Moxie hugged the tree she hid behind as branches and leaves fell around her in the chaotic scene. The Frostlandian dragon took to the sky. It was covered in soot but not dead yet. It made its way into the sky, headed back north from whence it came. It will live till another day, and it will heal its wounds. Lyse honestly believed that it had a better chance at battling Hephaestus than he. But while eh dragon's appearance was miraculous, he thanked it. He dropped down to the ground, now torn to sunder and the pills of empty earth that had surrounded the area. Mist and fog still obscured the sight of the assault, but from how destructive it truly ended up doing, Lyse did not doubt in his mind that Hephaestus died.

"Where did that dragon come from," Edlund and Makyra dropped down next to him. "I thought that Hyperborean said that there were no dragons in these Ice Fangs."

"He said that the chances were slim one would still be alive here," Lyse said. "It might have been drowned out of its nest by the appearance of Hephaestus. Even it realizes the threat he poses."

"Sure," Edlund looked onto the crater. "Do you think that got him?"

"I doubt that even a god could survive such an assault in his condition," Moxie said, shouldering her rifle. "Gods are tough, but they aren't that tough."

"How about we save that kind of talk for when we find a boy," Edlund said.

"What body?" Moxie chuckled. "You'd be lucky if you'd find pieces of the-"

Her pompous words were cut short when they all felt the ground begin to rumble slightly-an echo of their own attempts, except deeper and fr more omnipresent. The forest strain in the effort as they all feel the ground upheave right where they stood, and they knew instantly. They jumped away as fissure erupted from beneath them, and a massive column of flame and lava erupted where they stood. They took cover from a rock outcropping as fire rained from the heavens, in the sky turned dark in contrast to the column before them. And from this column rose a figure of black earth and red eyes completely enveloped by his element. A hammer in each hand and murderous intent that shadowed them all., Hephaestus was not dead. The god looked down upon them with seething anger, his form falling to shake the earth on the other side of the crater as the column finally ceased. His body further cracked; it revealed the form beneath a rolling cycle of fire and brimstone that slowly solidified into a rocky interior. They had indeed injured him severely, but here he still stood. And he still held his weapons.

"Foolish mortals," he huffed this. Despite his bold stature, his voice was actually haggard a bit from the strenuous effort, the thunderous voice showing some fragility. "You thought this would be the ending of me? Even with my powers diminished, even with this frail form, I am far above you mere humans who writhe beneath me."

Fear had taken hold of them all. Hephaestus's threats ranged true for them. All of them, except Lyse. All he felt at all was anger: anger and frustration. Anger burned in his veins, striking his heart like poison. His hands clenched into his fist as he exited the outcropping, a sword in hand. They called his names, shouted for him to fall back and retreat, but he did not at all listen to any of them. Not now. The pendant flashed vibrantly as he seeped in its power, as much of it as he could handle as he approached the god from across the crater.

"I swear to kill you with my own two hands," Lyse told him. "I don't care what you are or what you wish to call yourself. Hephaestus, or Garath. I will not let live."

The god frowned upon seeing him, then the pendant he had around his neck. "So you are the godslayer. A mere mortal like you does not deserve to wield such power."

"And am I to believe it simply because you speak it," Lyse held out his sword, and it once more ignited with humming power. "Mortal or not, you will see an end at my hand."

Hephaestus actually smiled at that comment, a movement that seemed strained with the rock plates that made up his face grinding against once another. But the expression was clearly bemused. Hephaestus lifted his hammers in an aggressive stance and looked down at him. "Then I shall grant you the death you so clearly desire, human. Let's see what might you can muster."

Lyse channeled the wisdom and power of Athena. And immediately, every alarm in his body shouted at him to run, every ounce of wisdom from a thousand years of battles and wars told him urgently to turn and flee, think of another plan. But Lyse ignored those pleas. Instead, focusing on the voices that told him the most likely, any likely chances at victory. He made swift advancements upon the god. He dashed left to rit as small gouts of lava spurted out from beneath him to impede him. He stayed locked on Hephaestus, seeing his movements. He channeled power from Demeter and hung out his hand. Immediate, the trees responded in kind, creaking and reaching out. He strained his efforts, forcing them to obey his wills as he imparted it upon them. And suddenly, abruptly, something snapped. The need, the urge, the power of Demeter suddenly bent to him. All he has learned, all he has practiced and focused upon, finally did respond to his need, and it did so with no ease. A tree suddenly lashed out from behind Hephaestus and completely engulfed him with thick limbs, and he moved in for the kill. It was only a few moments before Hephaestus burst forth, enlightening the tree on five as he pointed his hammer at Lyse. He was only within a few meters, and now that Lyse had observed him fighting with the dragon, he knew what to look out for. He dashed to the side as a column of fire once more lashed out where he stood, making the ground hiss in response. Lyse was on in his guard. He had a clear shot at his chest. With all his power aimed at his chest, he struck with all he had, a finishing blow when all else had failed. He felt Hephaestus's rocky skin give, his blade sunk in. And then. . .

It snapped. His blade snapped in two. He stopped in his tracks, looking down at the blade he held. It snapped in two, the other half embedded in Hephaestus' chest. Power leaked from it slowly. The string of too much aura, along with the god's own resistance, was just too much, and he was left clinging onto a piece of sharp metal.

"You," The god grabbed onto his shoulder, looking down at him with the cruelest of grins. "Dare strike me with such an imperfect weapon? Let me show you what lies between us, mortal."

Lyse realized too late the trouble he was in. Hephaestus firmly gripped him and then lifted his hammer to smash him to a pulp. The god's grip was too tight; there was no way to rip free in time to escape it. All the voices of wisdom, and his battle experience, he listened to it now, as he saw the hammer fall upon his skull over and over again, saw his various attempts to evade and all the ways he could fail. But just as it nearly made its mark, another attack struck the hammer's blow on the side instead and moved it to the side, making him miss the swing entirely. It was Edlund, and his blade, too, had shattered from the impact. But he did not miss the beat. He grabbed Lyse and ran as fast as he could away. Lyse was lost in the momentum of the events, and they were surrounded by trees before they knew it.

"No," he whispered. "We have to; we have to stop him."