The screams had stilled but firelight danced a bright counterpoint to Aere’s heart. The destruction ran along the logs joined where the house’s stone corners met. Before the structure three men watched the thatch roof collapsed. At their center, silhouetted by flames, Flanagan lazily held his torch. The other two were strangers but stank of the village.

Breaking a god was no easy task, but Enryn had dedicated his lifetime to it. Well technically, his some odd great-grandfather Gylas had dedicated each generation’s eldest. Whether they wanted it or not.