The Godkiller

A note on pronunciation of names:

Deoccidos – “Dee-ox-id-dose” – Latin combination for ‘Godkiller’

Corignis – “Core-ig-nis” – Latin combination for ‘Fire Heart’

Sanghieme – “Sang-he-ā-may” – Latin combination for ‘Winter Blood’

Chione – “Kī-own- ā” – Greek for ‘Snow’

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Deoccidos trudged through the snow, he was not sure where he was, but that was never truly a concern of his. The surrounding air chilled him to the bone, yet he was not outwardly cold; the wind struck his body, but he felt nothing. He squinted through the falling snow, the sparse pine forest seemed unnaturally dark. This winterland made his mission more difficult, for his prey left very little in the way of tracks, and the constant snowfall quickly hid what was there.

Having travelled the world, Deoccidos never had a plan, he was driven solely by the souls of his prey calling to him. He had no need for weapons, as no weapon of men could kill his prey. He never ate, he never slept, he never felt emotion, save for the rage that accompanied his battles. It wasn’t a tough realization for him, but Deoccidos knew he was not human; what he did not know was what his connection was to them. Nothing stood in his way… except his deference for humans. Was it not for his menacing and terror-invoking form that froze humans in their tracks, he’d be hard-pressed to not be a servant to them. Perhaps, he already was.

After all, his name, Deoccidos, meant Godkiller, and only humans would want their gods dead. Am I not a god? This he asked himself time and again. No human had his abilities, and he had none of the afflictions that ravaged them, often to their deaths.

He heard the snap of the twigs at the same time he felt the soul of his prey, and turning towards the sound, Deoccidos’ pitch black eyes flared red. All thoughts drained out of his mind, all that mattered now was the hunt. And the prey was close. It was a mighty soul, of such power as he had not felt since the beginning of his mission. The rage grew in him like a wildfire, and it drove his steps as though the snow wasn’t heaped on the ground.

Tree branches and limbs creaked and broke loudly as he approached the clearing ahead. A soft, orange light lit the clearing, and from the trees Deoccidos saw the silhouette of a young man leaning over a frozen pond, the glow emanating from his eyes and the hand resting upon the ice. The man looked up as Deoccidos approached, and he could see the fiery eyes become rounder. He could feel the soul of the god strain, and the rapidity of the pond’s thaw increased.

Corignis was this one’s name, whom they called Hephaestus in the Hellenic lands. If Deoccidos had known human hunger, then his mouth would certainly be watering at the meal before him. Through the rising steam of the pond, he watched as Corignis finished his chant and stood, turning his gaze upon the hunter.

“You are the las-…”, began Deoccidos. And he looked behind him to where another form rose out of the pond.

The woman was beautiful; white skin with the slightest hue of blue, long, flowing hair of silver, and a gown of the purest white. Not as mighty as Corignis, Deoccidos felt within the goddess the same quiet rage that drove him. This may not be an easy fight…

“Who are you, young one?” he asked her.

“I am Sanghieme,” and she unleashed a torrent of ice toward Deoccidos.

Winter Blood, he thought. Chione, Goddess of Snow… No sooner had he completed the thought then he found himself encased in ice. Through the ice, he watched as Corignis made his way toward him, his hand now glowing white hot.

Deoccidos braced himself within the ice, and the hand of fire instantly melted through that ice and into his chest. Just as his body could not feel the cold, his body, now, could not feel the heat, nor the piercing of Corignis’ hand through his flesh. As Deoccidos looked down at the hand in his chest, it all seemed to make sense. There was no life in his body, no heartbeat, no soul. He was the culmination of all the fear and anguish of the human race, made tangible. That fear became his rage, and the emptiness within him, the lack of life and soul, was filled only by destroying that which made him. The gods of the Hellenic Lands needed mankind to pray to them, it’s how they achieved such power. And where once the prayers came joyfully and respectfully, they were now nearly as empty as himself. He may be like a god, but his existence was the will of mankind. He was their servant.

Deoccidos felt the soul of Corignis, and the rage within became a cauldron poised to boil over. Quiet and slow the cracks began, the face of his attacker becoming one of fear. Above them, the face of the white lady froze with terror, and she descended towards Corignis slowly, fighting with her mind for a way to help her fellow deity.

“Corignis, we must flee!” cried Sanghieme. “We haven’t the power to defeat mankind’s hate, for it is all but spent.”

Pulling with all of his strength, Corignis could not release his hand from the creature in the ice. “Go, Sanghieme, my fate is sealed.”

The ice exploded violently, shards flying in all directions. Sanghieme shielded her face from the twinkling, shattered water crystals, and when she turned again to face the two men below, Deoccidos had taken Corignis’ glowing hand by the wrist and brought his face within inches of the other.

“Give me your soul, God of Fire, the world of Men has no more use for you,” he said coarsely. Deoccidos tightened his grip, the Fire God’s eyes widened in pain and began to scream. But the scream went immediately silent, and the glow within Corignis began to exit through his mouth in an eruption of light. Almost smiling, Deoccidos swallowed that light, and what remained of the once great god, Hephaestus, was a pool of molten rock that quickly melted through the snow and flowed to the deeps of the Earth beneath his feet. “You are an animate god no more.”

Sanghieme gasped as she realized that she was now the last. Oh, how she missed the days of Mt Olympus, drinking nectar and dining on ambrosia! How she missed the heartfelt prayers of the men, women, and children of Greece! And now, being the last of her kind, she understood how terrible the Olympians had become. We have failed, she thought. But she looked to the south, where she knew her mountaintop home of old still stood, and chose to flee to it, if only for a while, to bask in the glory of bygone days. She would lose this battle, so there was no harm in being at peace with it.

Sanghieme fled towards Mt Olympus in a gust of wind and snow, leaving Deoccidos alone on the shore of the pond.

His eyes followed her into the darkness. “I will find you! I will find you, Sanghieme!” The residual glow of Corginis’ soul flared within him one last time. “I WILL FIND YOU!”