They both leap in opposite directions as the trunk slams into the snow.
Calder takes advantage of the distraction and leaps over the tree, landing behind Makt. He slices down the god’s back and, before he can recover, punches the fresh wound, forcing Makt to the ground.
Quickly, the god recovers as he dives for his axe, catching Calder’s by the blade and throwing it behind them.
“How are you going to kill me now?” He laughs as his attacks continue without pause.
Calder lunges away from the onslaught. He keeps his breathing even as he awaits his opportunity to assail him.
When Makt strikes over his head, the blade slams into the snow-covered path.
Calder steps on the handle, throwing his elbow into the side of his head. The force breaks the god’s nose with an echoing crack throughthe clearing. Blood spurts from his face, staining the pearly white powder at their feet.
So he can bleed.
Makt stumbles as Calder, spurred on by this revelation, retrieves the godly great axe and does not hesitate.
His hit strikes Makt in the abdomen, sinking into his gut.
“You spent too much time hiding behind your godly throne that you’ve grown soft.” Calder withdraws the axe and sinks it into his chest, again pooling blood onto the ground.
His sire grasps his midsection as his innards slip out through the sunken cavity.
“You have not won!” Blood gurgles from Makt’s lips. “This is my realm! The realm of a god. I cannot die, boy!”
“You should not have touched her!” He rips the blade from his chest, swings it over his head, and cleaves his skull in two.
He pulls his blade away and watches the bloody body crumble to the ground. A black mist envelops Makt, and tiny cracks of lightning sizzle throughout like dark tendrils.
Calder leaves the area, ducking behind the fallen tree. When he glances back, the cloud implodes, sending a shockwave powerful enough to slice through all the trees.
Makt’s body vanishes, leaving only a hole in the ground as evidence of their battle.
Relief floods his veins.
He is finally gone.
Calder recovers, securing the godly great axe on his back, and returns up the hill to collect his princess without another glance.
Before he reaches the altar, a slow clap shatters the eerie silence of the Abyss.
“Congratulations. My coin bag was always set on you.” A tall, broad-shouldered, hooded figure emerges from the shadows. A thick cloak so dark it could be darkness incarnate shrouds every bit of the stranger’s form, including his obscured features.
And yet, nothing about this individual is foreign to the Iss Drengr.
There is a disconcerting familiarity in his presence.
Anticipating yet another sinister being hoping to kill him, he once more withdraws the great axe.
“Oh! I see. Are you hoping to go two for two in the Abyss?” The figure’s laugh is dark and bitter, raising every hair along the back of Calder’s neck.
He is frozen in the snow, his weapon ready, yet he does not move to attack the stranger he suspects governs this realm.
The one god he hoped to evade during this particular visit.
“Makt was a complicated fellow. Can’t say I will miss him.”
Calder edges closer, his gaze fixed on the hooded being.
