i am the vanguard of your destruction

Like a tide, they all poured in—an army of mortals stretched thin over the shimmering flats, hooves pounding surf and sand into a churned mess as they threw themselves with reckless abandon against this latest threat.

Part of him wanted to be angry—angry, at the Sun, for his false promises of peace. Angry, with the Gods, for seeking to expand at all. Angry, with this river-beast hidden in its cloak of bent light, for daring to exist. And somewhere deep within, there was pain. The pain of loss; the pain of having been robbed of whatever budding faith he may have had in the deities he had forsaken so long ago.

And beneath that, a connection—in the mayhem, he felt for the Sun god, and the promise this other beast had taken from him. The sheer fury of the immortal's voice bounded across the space, reverberated deep within his skull, and Mauja felt his ears fall slick to his neck. He didn't even know why he fought anymore—the first time had been easy; to protect his owls. The second time easier. This time, it was mechanical, duty. To protect. They didn't have the time to solve it peacefully.

(Time had run out for some.)

He saw ice collide with the crocodile's body, slamming into its chest with a fury of its own; an earthen spire followed it, widening the gap, spilling blue blood onto the gilt sands. Ophelia's horn followed, striking deep; Mauja let his magic go. There were too many afoot now, trampling and moving, and much as he wanted to litter the bastard with holes it was just too dangerous.

And the creature wasn't defenseless, either; a pale filly was flung aside much like Elding had been in the first battle. Horses fell, but most seemed to get up. Fire and magic rained down.

How strong wasn't the God, to withstand the force of a Helovia united by fear and rage?

His eyes flew upwards, saw Naerys—fuck—dip in on her young wings, striking the creature. Someone screamed her name, and he felt like echoing it; what was she doing here? She was too young, too—

Who was he, to say who could defend their homes and not? What took the right from her, to fight for what she believed in?

Just don't die on me.

And with everyone in the way, he only had one venue of attack left. Mauja drifted a little closer, seeking the crocodile's shape out with his magic, seeking for its heart—and he did what he did to the first god, trying to load its veins up with ice in an effort to kill it.

[ Mentions: @Ophelia @Naerys || Mauja stops using ice spikes, instead summoning ice within the croc's heart, hoping to freeze/burst it. ]