The boy with dirty, matted blond hair crawled along the damp cavern floor, forcing his body to keep going on seemingly nothing but pure force of will. His impish face was caked with dirt, his sharply pointed ears were filled with a dull buzz, and his iconic, pointed green hat was bent and looked like a soggy potato. Tears, brought out from the heat, cleaned tracks down his cheeks. His throat was so parched that he doubted he would ever be able to speak clearly again.

A god of mischief without a voice? he thought, wondering how that would work to keep his mind off of things. Nay, how can I piss people off without speaking? It just wouldn't work....

Zakan had lost track of time as to how long he had been imprisoned by Vadrioth. Before, he had never even noticed time's never ceasing passage. Few gods were, save for Tyrsren, god of time, and Asteris, the Chronicler of All Things. But when Vadrioth began draining him of his powers, Zakan began to notice more and more. He noticed time, he noticed fatigue, he noticed hunger and pain. He noticed things that he had never been meant to notice.

And he didn't at all appreciate it.

His purpose was to annoy and aggravate mortals, and hopefully ruin their lives at the same time. He wasn't supposed to become one. But Vadrioth had been using him as a way to increase his own powers, leaving Zakan on the verge of mortality and death. He was no longer useful to the Dragon King, and that meant that the next time he received a visit from that overgrown lizard, he'd be killed.

Zakan didn't like the sound of death very much. What happened if a god died? He didn't think that Gessa had planned for that when he created them, and he didn't plan on finding out. Fortunately for him, Zakan was known for having rather sharp teeth. The iron bars of his cell door were ancient, and were quite easy to chew through. It only took him a few days to get the door to open.

The caverns were empty and devoid of all signs of life. Zakan had been going through them for hours, searching for a way out. Everything looked exactly the same. He swore that he went past the same boulder twice, and the same smelly, horrifying ball of gore at least three times. When he finally saw a bit of light filtering into the cavern, he felt his heart lift up.

But something big was blocking half of the way. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, trying to make out what it was. It was very tall; it went halfway up to the ceiling. He thought he could see something staring back at him from it....

His eyes widened when he realized what it was. He scampered away from it in horror.

It was a stack of dragon skulls, fit together like some grotesque trophy.

The god shuddered. He had heard that the Dragon King sometimes captured dragons from the mortal world and brought them here to let his own dragons make a sport of them. Zakan then realized what the shrieks and cries he had often heard from inside his cell were; they were the cries of the mortal dragons being torn apart.

The ground suddenly shook as something large entered the cavern. Zakan quickly jumped back and pressed himself against the moist wall of the mountain.

"What did you show her, Vaniris?" Tsydyth hissed, folding her leathery wings to her side as she walked inside. "What was it?"

"It was only enough to plant the seed within the mortals' breast," Vaniris returned with his maw twisting into a grin. The emerald dragon plopped his massive body right in front of the cavern entrance, blocking it. "I simply revealed to her a dream that showed Xarxies and his little army of Mydrahkgnyrs coming out of that rift at the Bay. She will go on to tell the five companions, who will then wait until the right time to go to rift, and will therefore die once they arrive. Thus we get rid of that problem early, before it becomes a thorn in Father's side."

Tsydyth abruptly came to a stop, her flaming red eyes gazing at the totem of dragon skulls. She sniffed the air and fell silent. "Do you smell that?" she asked.

Zakan pressed himself further against the wall, his eyes wide. He completely stopped breathing.

"Smell what? Your bullshit?" Vaniris snorted at his words. A spout of golden flame erupted from his nostrils.

"Very funny." Tsydyth turned back around and stretched out along the cavern floor, her tail snaking around the dragon skulls just in front of Zakan. The dragon began to claw at the loose rocks on the ground. "I think you underestimate these mortals," she said after a while.

"You're as stupid as Demona if you think that, Tsydyth," Vaniris sneered. "Even beings so low and disgusting as the Mydrahkgnyrs can rend the flesh from their bones and deprive them of their pitiful lives in less than a minute. Once Xarxies brings them out, that entire continent will be dead. This time the rift will be permanent."

Tsydyth grunted. Her tail twitched in disapproval. "What of the Amulet, then? Vadrioth wants it destroyed."

"Xarxies will handle that," Vaniris replied in a matter of fact tone. "With him dealing with that, you and I will be able to help Father begin work on opening the portal." The dragon raised his head and smugly puffed his chest out. "I help Father out more than any of you."

"Just don't let it go to your head," Tsydyth replied darkly, disgusted. "We will see how it all plays out. I-"

At that moment, a flash of green lightning suddenly streaked through the blood red sky, tinting the entire cavern green. An ungodly loud clap of thunder soon followed it. Zakan felt the entire mountain tremble and became worried that the stack of dragon skulls towering next to him would tumble over.

Tsydyth groaned. "He calls at the worst times." The large and slender ebony dragon slowly regained her feet.

"How about you tell him that?" Vaniris snarled. He spread his great wings and flew out of the cavern.

All became silent. Zakan began to ever so slightly crawl pass the dragon skulls to make sure that the entrance was free of any dragons.

He nearly swallowed his tongue when he saw a woman standing right in front of him.

"Ah, I was wondering when you were going to escape," Tsydyth said in her hoarse voice. She sniffed. "Where are you going, little man?"

"Oi, out my way, lassy!" Zakan croaked, sitting back on his heels. "Although, you do look a lot better in this form, I will say that. Care to take yer clothes off for me? I don't mind if you've still got a dragon v-"

"There's no way out of here, Zakan, surely you must know that." Tsydyth crossed her arms over her armored chest and yawned. "Especially since you're essentially mortal at the moment. You'll die the moment you step foot outside of here."

"What?" Zakan squinted his eyes and wriggled a finger in his ear. "You know lass, you really shouldn't mumble. Nobody can hear you when you speak below the octave of hearing." He struggled to stand up. "Make sure to tell yer old man that he needs to get a better house cleaner. This place is disgusting! And really? Dragon skulls? Do ya have any idea of how unsanitary that is? It-"

Tsydyth rolled her eyes and grabbed Zakan by the collar of his tattered green shirt. "Bloody hell, you really are an annoying little bastard."

Zakan grinned, showing his row of pointed teeth. "Aye, that's just me job, lass. I call it, the 'Art of Pissing People Off'. Please don't steal that, by the way. I own it."

"Shut up!" Tsydyth shook him and raised him off the ground. "Listen, I'm going to get you out of here." She glanced around her and lowered her voice. "Make sure you tell the rest of the gods what you heard here. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but why-" Before Zakan had time to finish his sentence, he was falling through the ceiling of Fibius's palace.

 ***🐉***

hi yall♡

i apologize for there not really being any plot movement in this chapter, but it was necessary to write. i feel it could be improved a lot, so please tell me any criticism you have.

also, i need y'all's opinion on something. which do you like better as a potential title: Glory to the Ice King, or Glory be to the Ice King?

thank you so for reading as always♡

until next time~