He stood before the border, a titan of silver and cream and black in the swirling, light mist. His gargantuan form was at the northernmost borderland of the the herd. He had spent the past few days walking the path of the fallen wall, which was (mostly) free of the large chunks of fallen glass. Only standing stretches of glass wall and patches of small shards remained along their borders. Along with whatever was hidden beneath the soil— it would be a lifelong task to entirely free the Edge of all the wall’s remnants.

Regardless, the Glazier now knew where glass wall stood and where empty space needed to be filled in. Mauja had told him, seasons ago when he had just arrived to Helovia, that glass spikes were to be put in its place. Well, the Glazier had, after so many seasons, felt masterful enough over the crafting magic that gifted his veins. It was cold— like the revenge that had driven his life before. The thought left him unsettled, for he often felt that the Lady Moon’s gift came at a price. A price of enticing and embracing his inner, destructive monster. A monster he thought he had left in the ruins of his old home, along with his demons and sins.

But that was not the case, it seemed, as he filled his mind with a mental map of the Edge’s border. He faced the empty space before him, a grassy line free of trees where wall once stood. A cool trickle of power gathered in his chest, radiating though his veins slowly and controlled. This was so much different than the explosive bursts of power he had shown before— he would be in this for the long haul. It would take a long time to walk the perimeter of the Edge and create glass spikes. Perhaps his friendly glass dragon would come join him. He almost grinned at the thought— but didn’t, for his concentrate was so great.

The cool, trickling mist in his veins chilled his bones. His breath began to condense into mist around his nostrils, despite the oppressive heat of Tallsun. A patch of clammy sweat appeared on his neck, darkening the silver to steel. A deep breath sent a cloud of fog around his muzzle. A step towards the border created a swirl in the clouds condensing around his body.

The mist hovered over the grass. It thickened, compressed, hardened, and grew. It became scintillating and clear. Pointed and angular. A mass of crystalline prisms, sharp ends simultaneously rising and sinking into the Earth. The elephant took a step southward, following the border, and obediently the mist began to condense along the next stretch of grass.

Icy cold, darkened blue gaze broke it’s concentrated stare to assess the size of the clearing and thickness needed for these spikes. His skin twitches with tension as the fog weakens, some spikes slipping back into the earth— he needed a fellow Glazier. He could create the spikes while his fellow glazier directs them.

He sighs, concentration wobbling as more spikes fall victim to the distracted Glazier’s mind. This would be a long day.