I do not own Brave or HTTYD.

AN: Warning. This chapter includes violence, bloodshed, and suicide.

Chapter 35

Hallowed Ground

With two Furies in the air, it was a quick and bloody battle.

The Hooligan army was too well equipped and the Alban Clans were severely outmatched, outmaneuvered, and outgunned.

But that is not to say that it was not a bloody war, brief though it was.

Many Vikings and their winged beasts were shot down with bombs filled with scales and claws and teeth, meant to shred and tear the flesh and wings of the dragons and ripping through armor. Dragons, once downed, where mutilated so that they would never rise again into the skies and often gutted for the pleasure of it.

The Clansmen were tortured and dismembered with the savagery of the Berserkers, mauled and terrorized by the Lava-Louts and Bog-Burglers, and beaten and burned at the hands of the Hooligans. Many of their weapons failed and instead damaged themselves instead of their enemies, why is not clear to those that built and designed them.

The earth of DunBroch was once again fed with the blood and gore of violence, everything turned black and pink and red from all the terror that it saw. Boots sank into the muddy loam, the stench fetid and thick after only a few hot hours of the summer, bodies piled up and beginning to be taken back to their peoples in preparation for the ceremonies that would take place after they had been collected.

Men shook with the aftershocks of warfare and violence, unable to release their blades despite the battle having ended hours ago. Women and children had huddled in the castle, among the King's finest wines in his cellar, sobbing and begging that someone merciful above spare them one last time. The battles seemed unending, as if they never would stop until all were dead.

The castle lay in even more shambles, two spires completely burnt down and destroyed. The walls were busted open and bleeding corpses and rubble like a broken ribcage. The loch was studded with the broken hulls of ships that were destroyed, the trapping equipment being accounted for and intended for smelting more weapons under the Hooligan flag at a later date.

Merida brought Hiccup and Valka the wounded Gronkles and Nadder she had saved, one of the Gronkles having died in the woods from injuries sustained. Valka's eyes were tired and sad as she inspected them and promised them a place in her cove with the beloved Bewilderbeast, who would watch out for them and take care of them despite their new handicaps.

Her father-in-law was bleeding from one arm but otherwise seemed fine. Valka appeared untouched, but spattered from either helping the wounded or a couple closely fought battles. Astrid and Eret were mostly fine, save a cut across the Eretson's face that bled sluggishly into his beard. Snotlout and Tuffnut were a bit beaten and bloodied, but no loss of limbs or lives to any that were important. Gobber and the triplets were, of course, perfect—save for the fury in Gobber's face at Hiccup whenever he spoke.

Merida's father, crippled and bent, sat at the feet of Stoick the Vast in irons. Hiccup had tried to whisk her away, take her from this, but she refused. If her father was to die, if Stoick was to go back on his promises to her, she wanted to see his fate with her own tired, soot-stained eyes.

No one had yet found the errant wild Queen.

"King Fergus of DunBroch," Stoick boomed, "Ye stand accused of treason and conspiracy against the Hooligan Empire. Ye have slaughtered my people in their homes, placed on these lands under my name and flag, and raised an army against us. Ye have resigned yer people to die for nothin' more than greed and foolishness.

"For yer actions, I condemn ye to abandonment. One of us shall drop ye on an island far from here with a blade and not a damn thing else and if ye live, ye best thank yer gods and never return. If ye die, it was designed."

Merida's throat caught and she stuttered out a half-sob.

She advanced on unsteady legs, the arrow in her leg bleeding more with every step.

"My dear girl," his smile was sad, "Look at ye. My true Queen. Even like this…ye are radiant enough to combat the sun."

"Da…" her knees buckled, but she did not fall. "I tried, da. I did. I did. I'm sorry I could'nae do better."

"Ye did more than I could have asked ye," he did not face death in fear, but smiling softly into the embrace of the eternal. "Ye were ripped in two, but ye held firm to who ye are and what is important. Ye have grown so much, Merida. I'm so proud of ye. I'm sorry I did this, lass. I'm sorry I could'nae stop it either.

"Do'nae remember me like this," he begged, his beard clotted with dried blood, bent and stooped and still so yellow. "Remember me as I was. Great and beloved by my people. Do not think of me like this, okay, my darlin'?"

"Ye will always be great to me!" She sobbed, broken and bending. Hiccup was there, keeping her up, his hands on her arms, shushing her. "Ye are my only father, I never wanted things to end this way!"

"I know it, babe, please do'nae cry!" He was nearly in tears himself. "Keep yer head up, just as always. I love ye, Merida the Brave, my pearl, my bonnie wee lass. I love ye and I know yer heart is good and I do'nae hate or begrudge what was done in war. I forgive ye."

"And I forgive ye," she whispered, being hauled back to her place next to Valka, who took some of her weight to keep them all upright.

"And, as for ye," Stoick turned to Merida, who nearly buckled under the heated glower of his stare. "Merida of Clan DunBroch, yer marriage to my son has been annulled as our agreement with yer peoples was broken—!"

Her heart froze in her chest, ice in her throat, mud in her mouth as if she was rotting dead in the moors.

"Wait!" Hiccup called, "Wait, father!"

Stoick turned his steely gaze to his son. "I should'a known ye'd have some wild plan. Out with it."

"Merida!" He gripped her and spun her around, making her dizzy and nearly fall if Valka wasn't still there. His hands, still dusted with dried blood, cupped her face and filled her nose with ozone and steel and lightning and death.

"Do you love me?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to be with me?"

"Yes!"

"Will you be mine?" He dropped to his knee, his hand outstretched. In his palm was the dragon's eye lens she loved so dearly, his very first gift to her beyond the rings that lay in ruins. "Will you marry me, Merida of DunBroch?"

Staggering, Merida only blinked at him for a moment as the tension swelled.

He was asking.

The foolish boy was asking.

"I want nothing more," she gasped, her hand falling into his and nearly toppling over, "Than to be yours forever. Until Ragnarök, until the end. Yes, yes, of course. I was always yours! I was made for you!"

He leapt to his feet and spun her, kissing her on the mouth and holding her close.

Fated to be. Fated to meet. Fated to wed.

"I'm betrothed," Hiccup said with a cocky tone, challenging his father. "You cannot harm her."

Shaking his ruddy head, Stoick chuckled. "Fine! I should have known."

"Ye really should have," Valka murmured, straightening Merida's hair and making her shudder. A part of her was still furious with her, but could not strike against her so openly.

Hiccup placed the necklace around her throat, dangling and twinkling in the light.

"Right where it should be," he played with it, before kissing each of her hands and then her mouth. She had a mind that he wasn't really speaking about the necklace, but something else.

A ragged scream rent the air and they turned to see her mother being dragged by her long hair into the area, making Merida gasp and reach but was held back. Elinor writhed like a serpent pinned by the tail, clawing and kicking in her dirtied armor.

"Elinor!" Fergus screamed, attempting to stand and was promptly hit in the back of his knees.

"Mum! Da!" Merida was hyperventilating, crushed to Hiccup so that she couldn't try to stop what might happen. "No! Please, do'nae do this!"

The two Vikings hauled her to their King and dropped her, limply to the ground. She glowered up at him with a busted lip and bruised face, snarling like a rabid dog.

Merida squeezed her eyes closed, unable to watch. Hiccup petted her knotted curls with shaking fingers, gently trying to distract her and tucking her face into his shoulder. She clutched him like a lifeline, drawing breath but feeling as if she was choking.

All the horror between them, all the monstrous words said, all the terrible words exchanged, she would not wish her dead.

"Monstrous beast," her mother screamed, "Heathen! Demon! Why else will ye not die?!"

"Hush, woman," Stoick commanded, "Greet yer fate with some dignity."

"I will never bow before ye," she snarled, "I'd rather die!"

There was something in her tone, something in that threat that was a promise and she couldn't help but jerk just to see her produce a dagger from some unknown place and sink it deeply into the flesh of her exposed throat.

Falling.

Her mother was falling.

Tipping to the side, limp and listless.

Merida moved without thinking, pushing Hiccup away to catch her mother as she fell. Her body was warm, her armor almost hot to the touch, her skin still barely wrinkled despite her age and the sorrows she had known.

Her mother was a beautiful woman. She was full of kindness and light and love and laughter. She had faced being a bear with the dignity that a woman could only hope for. She had raised a hellish daughter at her knee and tamed the beast within her, brought home a fay child and nursed it, saved Merida many times from herself.

There was more screaming, screaming all around her, a voice calling her mother's name, her name, then again.

Elinor, Elinor, Elinor.

Merida, Merida, Merida.

No. No. No.

She was rocking the body, unconsciously holding it closer like some cruel mirror image of her infancy. The blood dripped down and was staining her armor, slipping beneath the plates, so hot against her skin she felt it must be equivalent to Gronkle lava. She'd be flayed to the bone, white flesh and nothing but blisters.

"She's fine," she whispered, staring at the slack face, her wide eyes, her dead stare. "Fine, jus' fine. Aren't ye, mum? Just fine. We'll patch ye up, we can. Our dragons can—can—can—do…"

"Merida, look at me," Hiccup was at her side, Valka on the other. Her father was a heap on the ground, screaming and sobbing behind her, the air full of nothing but sorrow. "Merida, shh, oh…oh, gods…"

"Hiccup," she couldn't breathe, why couldn't she breathe? "Hiccup…help. Help her. Valka…fix her, please. Please," she looked to her with wide eyes. "Fix her and all is forgiven. Okay? I-I will'nae care about the lies and the mess before. Just help me…"

"Shh, sweet child, there now." Valka was shaking too, rage in her heart at the injustice and hatred of the woman before her. What she did to her people, to her daughter, to her son, to their lives. Then to run like a coward and leave all the horror in her wake. "Come, hand her to me. I have it, I do. Yes, that's a good girl."

Her hands wouldn't unclench from the metal, "Help her. Help her…please, please…I can'nae…mum…mummy…wake up. Wake up! Please!" The reality was hard to grasp, slow to catch on. "Mummy, no! Ye can'nae! Ye can'nae have done this!" She shook the limp body of her mother, dead and gone. "No! No! No!"

"Hiccup, take her. Now, son, now!" Valka drug the corpse away and Hiccup hauled her to her feet, her keening joining her father's wails.

"No! Mummy, no! Do'nae leave me! Not like this! No!" She fought Hiccup, but the dragons were there, herding her back, "Not like this! I said I would make it right! How can I make it right when ye leave me like this?!"

Hiccup slammed her screaming mouth into his neck, holding her there by her hair and shushing her as he struggled to keep himself upright. Her lower half was coated in blood and the body of the once-Queen of DunBroch was dragged, slowly, out of sight. But that did not mean it was out of her mind, she would never forget what just transpired. Hiccup didn't doubt he'd never forget either.

"Elinor!" Fergus screamed again, his face dirtied from the ground, mud in his wrinkles, grass in his beard.

Stoick bowed his head and rubbed his tired eyes.

There was only so many times he hated his position among his people. Mostly when he was young and alone with his sick babe, his wife gone, no right to turn to anyone save Gobber, no where to hide but his house.

He hated his crown then.

He hated it all right then.

And the work had really just begun.

"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your names with love and fury, so that we might hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla and know that you've taken your rightful places at the table of kings. For great men and women has fallen this day: Warriors. Fathers. Mothers. Friends."

Merida was slack and sorrowful at his side, the setting sun dropping below the horizon as a dozen boats were lit on fire and set into the water to welcome them to the next life. The Clans wished to bury their dead, as was the custom of their people, but Merida put a stop to any worthless squabbling and they were suitably cowed. Prayers were raised and lilted around them in half a dozen languages and dialects like a great song, reaching to a crescendo that would surely reach the gates of Valhalla.

A boat before her was filled with her people, her mother placed on top of a pile of bodies. She had arranged the flowers in her hair, a high collared dress to hide the ugly blackened hole in her throat, her favorite belt and jewelry. She had hummed wetly, another incongruent mirror of her mother and herself, while she braided her mother's long hair and prepared her for her final rest. She had washed her hands at least half a dozen times, but they still itched as if coated with the blood of her family.

Hiccup and Valka had fluttered, nothing to say but hoping to do something, anything to assist her. Hiccup's mind was emptied of everything but his wife, everything but the curl of her hair and the slope of her cheek and the smattering of freckles across her nose. He could get no further than ten steps away before he was brought back again, always bringing her food, water, clothing, anything, everything he could think of to try to ease her suffering. She had clutched her brothers to her chest when she told them, despite one yanking at her hair and then attempting to kick her in the ribs, bawling and writhing worse than the hatchlings ever dared.

He didn't know what to do, how to handle it. He didn't know what to think, how to right it. So he was there, always, expectant and waiting to help where he could. He swallowed his sorrows, his shaking hands, his tears. He hid them from her and stood as solid as an oak so that when she decided to fall, to lean, to seek him out, he would be there for her.

Hiccup kept waiting for her to light her arrow, to fire, but still she watched as it sailed further and further out towards the sea. When he was about to say something, a fool's errand, she pulled back in a blink and let it soar wildly across the sky, hitting center mast and still making him gawp. The sail caught and began to become devoured in flames, few other arrows managing to make it that far out with such accuracy. It was a slow process, but hers was the flame that would guide them to the world beyond that great water.

Her face was pinched and nearly purple, slack with an emotion he couldn't begin to decipher. The dragons let out a series of shots behind them, the bright blue and purple of their Furies mingling and exploding in a dancing ribbon of color across the sky in a false aurora. Merida did not smile at it, but bent and hauled one of her sobbing brother's to her chest. Hiccup took the other two, letting them pull his braids without complaint as they wailed into the bloody sunset and his tunic.

"I'm sorry," he said for what must have been the hundredth time that hour. "I swore to you they'd stay safe…"

Bouncing Harris, Merida said nothing as she petted the back of his head. She had no words for what transpired, the terror and horror of it. A part of her was too numb to begin to decipher her own mind. It would never leave her, a stain on her soul that would go side by side with all the other lives she'd sent to the next world. She did not know who she was, what the world would leave for her now, after so much bloodshed.

She watched the flames devour the boat, her mother's body, the other corpses, the memories.

"Come," she commanded them, turning on her weak leg but refusing to buckle, "It is time to go."

Haunted by the dead, they followed.

It was over, behind her, just another body of water crossed to find land, to settle, to stop and rest.

There was nowhere to go but forward.

Merida stretched her sore muscles, flaunting her nude body to the sky fearlessly to the little remaining sunshine. The southern islands of the Archipelago were somewhat warm still, despite Berk having started it's slow descent into maddening cold that would last for months on end.

She refused to pass up any opportunity to be warm, knowing the freeze ahead.

Dozing, she drifted between that sacred space of sleep and waking. Her mind spun in lazy circles of the past four months, the struggles and successes, the lows and highs, the tears of joy and heartbreak.

The boys moved in, Hiccup and Gobber and Stoick all pitching in to make a new wing with three brand new bedrooms for each of them to have their own space. At first they were silent, tentative, terrified that Hiccup might grow frustrated, annoyed with their presence, and kick them out into the cold. Once Hiccup and her had several long promising conversations with them, they were both better and worse. Hubert was mouthy and rude, Hamish running off into the woods behind the house for hours on more than one occasion, Harris brooding and silent in a way that made Merida doubt her sanity. She fretted, cried and screamed into her fine down pillows gods knew how many times.

Her family tried to help where they could, out of guilt or obligation she didn't know nor care. Gobber took to Hubert in to the smithy and began teaching him, Hiccup coming along when he had time to assist. Hamish would often spend days trapping and hunting with the Eretsons, and with Hiccup on flights. Harris was the hardest to assess, his mind sharp and keen but his silence damning. It was Stoick that somehow managed cracked him, had him back to smiling again after what seemed like years of quiet. Valka would supervise when she could, mostly helping them gain some upper hand with the nearly fully grown Night-Lights, who were enamored with their new partners in crime. Soon enough they were fluent in three languages—Norse, Gaelic, and the speech all their own they had created as babes.

Hiccup was insatiable and it nearly drove Merida to choking him in the night. He had built her new things, fine things, a way to welcome her home with creation instead of the destruction from their last arrival. He would not leave the house unless dragged by Stoick, and even then he put up one Hel of a fight against going. He held her every night, cooked and helped her clean, coming to her as soon as the fires were out and begging her to touch him, to be with him, to reconnect. He never stopped touching her, her hips, her hair, breathing her in and reminding himself she was home, safe, with him. He would yank her under his arms and whisper half-spun prayers in her ears, breaking himself in half to just be close.

They struggled to return to any semblance of normal, so much grief and blood and heartache between them. They fought, more than once, hissing quietly in the dark so as not to alert the boys and sometimes shouting when they were gone. They would fly around, avoiding the other for a few stagnant hours, before coming back with soft apologies, heads shaking, unsure in themselves, their actions, their unknown emotions. They had to keep finding their footing, then moving again, the same dance they had done so many moons ago and still unsure in the steps and it kept them spinning and tired.

Sometimes Merida just cried, as if it had been pent up for far too long and had to release itself somewhere. She could be doing the dishes and singing a tune her mother knew, or putting her hair up a certain way, or snapping at the boys to tidy their things up and come down for dinner and she would just break apart. No matter how many times it happened, the chaos her tears brought to the house was like firing a plasma bolt in the main hall, everyone running from every direction to help her back up, put her on her feet, hold her close and assure it was fine, just fine, cry if you must. And she would until she was hot and pink and miserable and then go back to her duties, sniffling all the while and batting at whoever was closes to leave her be, she was fine!

Hiccup was tentative, but determined. He would push and pull at the right times, doing what he always managed to do—unbind her and make her reveal all her secrets even if she didn't want to. He suffered, too, from his parents' betrayal, returning to battle, her loss. She tried to remind herself, when he wouldn't look away from her for even a moment, that he was trying to reassure himself of her presence. Hiccup brought her everything he could think of to make her happy, freshly baked bread, jars of honey, apples and flowers. He feared she doubted her decision, that he had failed her, that she regretted the actions that lead to the moment where her mother killed herself to avoid any more dealings with the Confederation. He woke screaming some nights, frightening her, making her shush him and hold him and try to calm herself as well as him.

Hiccup was relentless, however, and Merida was fearless. They would always keep coming back, trying again, harder, finding the right words and the right way to speak, to act, to explain.

He invited her on mandatory outings, weekends away where they dropped everything and returned to themselves. Hiccup had his whole map and was happy to show her the world he discovered, and she was happy to go with him. He and their dragons whisked themselves away to some secret place to explore, laugh, and leave some of the past behind them, piece by piece, scattered across the globe. She met all his dragons, all the species, and learned about them as well as him.

They were on some strange new place today, but there was no wild dragon in sight for him to tame.

"Dragon Queen," he would whisper in her ear, in the dark of the night, their two beasts resting nearby, flesh and beating hearts under each other's fervent hands. It was reverent, like everything else he called her, his fingers playing with her.

"God-blessed," she would moan against him, rocking up and down on his body.

"Valkyrie!"

"Dragon-born!"

"Merida!"

"Oh, Hiccup!"

She still had nightmares as bad as him, nights where she woke up sweating and palming him to make sure he was real and safe. Sometimes she'd sneak into the boys' rooms, one by one, hands on their brows, counting and recounting and reassuring herself that everyone was there. All of the dragons, all of the boys, her husband, her life, her world.

Her father was left on MacIntosh land, just a little cottage with a great garden for him to plant and take care of. Merida wished to stay, wanted to keep close so they could mourn together, but she had to abandon him even though it just broke her further. He could live comfortably, once he got accustomed to it. And Malcom swore on his life he'd watch out for him. To lead DunBroch back to its glory, she chose him to be the guide, dedicated to peace and God and enlightenment. The MacGuffins would take over the Dingwall lands, now that the wee monster was dead and gone and be the two pillars of the old world. And, one day, when they are old and gray, the boys might return with their dragons and rule DunBroch again under their rightful place. The horror was left mostly unsaid, but there were times when she saw it in their eyes—when they were too tired to hide from her, trying to slink away from all the pain they'd known in a place that once held such beautiful memories.

She was helping them, they were getting better. She'd pry out each nightmare with her bare hands and devour it if it would help them. They were all that was left and she would never stop protecting them, keeping them safe, driving them forward.

"Oh, dear Odin's missing eye, I've ascended to Valhalla," Hiccup groaned, making her smile and bat her blood colored lashes open, stretching again, all of her on display for him. "Well, I must've died doin' what I loved."

"Me?" She teased.

"Exactly," he fell across her, his fingers teasing her bare skin, slightly golden and pink from the sunshine. "I refuse to go any other way." She couldn't tell if his pinked face was from the sunshine or if he was blushing again.

"You are not allowed to go," she kissed him across the temple, "We have a deal, you and me."

"Ah, yes, that's right. Forever, wasn't it?"

"It was," she wrapped her arms around his shoulder. "Until the end."

"Hm. Then I'll have to keep my end of the bargain. Can't go breaking oaths as King, doesn't look good," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone.

"I can't be wedded to a dishonest Viking," she cupped his face, her wedding ring glinting in the sun.

It was the strangest thing, their twin bands of pure gold. She had agreed to find Moira again and set out with their dragons, Hiccup refusing to leave her for even a moment and especially when she explained just who it was she rediscovered. When they appeared at her old hut, the door was open and she stepped inside to find nothing but the two bands on a low table by an empty hearth.

Hiccup swears on all on high that they are the ones he made with his own two hands and he would know best. She revealed what her mother did to hers brokenly, while he explained his offerings to the gods so that he might be assured her safe return. Merida didn't doubt it, but she wasn't sure how the old witch had managed such a feat. Still, putting it back on made her feel whole again.

They were wed again, draped in fine cloth and flowers and music and so much insurmountable joy. It was on a Friday, like he wanted, and they exchanged their old rings under a decorative pole adorned with silk ribbons and more flora than she could imagine finding. They were gorgeous in gleaming white gowns, just a bit dissimilar from before—now Merida sported her Lightfury insignia instead of the bears of her old clan or Hiccup's Toothless, something else and new in her own right and not something of the past or another. The entire Viking Confederation was there to witness it, and despite the loss of her family, she was glad to have a memory more fine than the last. There was mead and cake and dancing, all of which she partook in with relish. She sat and danced reels with Astrid and Dagur, spoke to Heather of all the other adventures Hiccup and his team lead her on, got to know the other half of the Thorston twins and the soft spoken Fishlegs that had finally recovered enough to begin working on a prosthesis. Her brothers first hid away, but she plied them with sweets and danced with all three of them until they fell over with laughter in a mess of bright red curls.

She poured wine for the dead of her mother and held her memory close as the dragons rose into the sky, led by the two Alpha Furies, setting off a colorful display of fire and explosions that nearly rocked the island into pieces.

Hiccup held her hand tightly while they stood and watched, colors dancing across their upturned faces. Across their brows sported their dual symbols, painted on by Gothi, a symbol of their connection and their fated bond.

And, after a full day of celebrations, Hiccup lifted her bodily from her chair and bid all their laughing and blushing friends a lovely good night.

"I don't care where you go!" He had hollered while she hid her face behind one hand, the other keeping the crown of pink florals across her brow. "But stay away from my house!"

Stoick gave them a full month to honeymoon, all over again. And they made sure not to waste it.

"Hiccup," she whispered, stopping him before he couldn't be stopped. "I need to tell you something."

He leaned back on his heels, checking over her face immediately, seeking and searching. "Yes?"

Leading his hand to her trembling skin, she smiled at him. She was nervous to tell him, but she had waited for as long as she thought she ought to. Already her body was changing, subtle ways that he was sure to notice soon.

His eyes widened in understanding. "Really?"

"Aye. Three months next week."

She couldn't say how it happened, other than fate. She and him were both careful, but some things were simply meant to be.

He gasped, "Oh, my—! Gods, blessed gods! Merida!" He bent to press kisses along her entire face, laughing and playing in the sunshine.

"Are you happy?" She asked, searching his eyes, looking for the shadows that flickered like shadows in the trees.

"I couldn't be happier. Gods, Merida. I love you."

Fated to be. Fated to meet. Fated to wed.

"I love you too, numpty dragon-boy." She grinned, pleased. "I hope the babe looks like you."

"No, it must be all you. Your eyes, like the sea, staring back at up at me from a crib. Oh, gods," he held his head. "The planning! We have to tell Gobber, he has to get started on a crib right away! And dad! We need to get a nursery set up—!"

She kissed him to silence his ramblings. "Hush. Let's take a moment first. We can worry about all of that later."

He fell next to her naked body, but only had eyes for her face.

"Stay with me?" She murmured, still drowsy. His scent filled her nose as he settled in beside her, dragon and lightning and the clouds above, otherworldly, inhuman, magical and hypnotic. It was all Hiccup, uniquely him.

"Forever," he swore, leading her iron head to his shoulder. "Forever and always."

Closing his eyes, they prayed in the light of the sun to any that might hear them. Gods of old, names lost to time and forgetful followers. To new gods, having settled into new homes, books and tomes and prayers and altars erected and spreading across the globe. To gods of death and dying, of war and love, of the fertile earth and the crashing sea.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Thank you.

The End.