[i][b][/b][/i]A pale finger ran down the clean-cut jawline of the handsome face, moisture forming at the very touch. The hand drew back with a sigh that distorted the last gasp of condensation from the full lips that had been worshipped for days. The god of winter stepped back from the figure of Cal, his most recent lover, the hurt and bitterness swirling in his dark grey eyes calming quickly into a pale blue of regret and remorse. Another one. Another mortal enchanted by his looks and mystery. Another period of time where he thought he felt love. Another burst of fury when the passion was revealed as merely carnal as his lover tried to leave. Another handsome ice statue to bedeck a forgotten wing of his sprawling palace. 

Sveiand turned away from the former mortal in a swirl of furs. Moments later he was flopping down onto his bed of ice, sinking into the multitude of thick furs. He closed his eyes and his lips tightened as a single tear formed, crystallised and fell. A deep inhalation of the frigid glacial air and he knew this disappointment would be his last. The amount of time they we were willing stay was growing shorter and the most recent men had the gall to ask him for fire! Fire! Maybe he should just resign himself to eternal solitude like his wretched sister. Or better still, join her. At least the cold and the dark complement one another. He rolled to submerge his face amongst the luscious pelts.

Times were changing and if things were heating up, literally, he couldn’t sit ideally by waiting for the next sacrificial kayak to arrive with another temporary companion. The feeling of uncertainty grew in the pit of his stomach – a previously unfelt emotion. He’d been comfortable in his frigid fortress with his power stretching far over the north of the world. He was feared by all the inhabitants in the region touched by his chill and prayers for his benevolence were never quiet. Whilst the few tribes living in the Northern Crown do the opposite and send him sacrificial ‘companions’ to ensure a thick sea ice for hunting both seals and whales. Maybe a god could become complacent…

Then he felt it. The heat. Ragnagedon. In a flurry of snowflakes, the cold of winter erupted from his villa. Shards of ice the size of spires flew from his explosion and icebergs carved of the edge of Niflheim, sending small tsunamis toward the nearby shore. Once air borne he was quickly transformed into Renvontulet and spiralled across the heavens. A momentary flare of exhilaration was soon extinguished at the sight he beheld. The number of fires lighting up the land below was a shocking sight. He tumbled and weaved in the stars, glimmering red, knowing how the tribal shamen below would perceive the ominous shades. He stretched his consciousness across the Northern Crown noting the intensity of artificially conjured flames around White Dawn. [color=6ecff6][b][i]“That bleached bag of bones”[/i][/b][/color]. The radiant one had befriended him and gladly received assistance for the infamous The Wall of Hlakth. And now he’d given his people the knowledge to oppose the cold. He understood the practicalities of survival but had no idea of the growth and spread of this burning blight.

He flung himself over the Crown and surged toward Osarion, his multicoloured flares parting around the spires. However, the bright lights over the southern peaks caused him to falter. So it was true. His brother had awoken. He thought about possible allies in the inevitable struggle with his opposite. Darkness and rain would subdue the fire and so Oao and Drakairos would have to be sent a message. But Azhriel would want to know first. He knew that frostbite and hypothermia sent his own fair share of souls into his care but they had fair warning and were only ill prepared. He did not have the sheer thirst for destruction that he knew raged within his twin. 

As he span to surge East to the Pit of Ahael he noticed the large flying specks silhouetted against the reddening sky. [color=6ecff6][i][b]“They are born”[/b][/i][/color]. That decided it then. He also needed to take his place in the world.