Far along the endless roads of Memory, Khalas strode towards His brother, the ever-loyal Smith of Proteus. With His cowl draped over His grey-robed figure, the Wanderer spoke urgently, imploring Phaestus to join Him in the creation of a New World. But the Dwarf Father remained immovable as a mountain, steadfastly refusing the pleas of His older Brother.

Dismay washed over the Wanderer's face even though He knew this would be the response He would receive and confirmed a lingering suspicion: He would be abandoned by His siblings once again.

Ablaze with roiling Divine Fire, Khalas engaged Phaestus in a battle that shook the heavens. There was no flashy display or grandeur in Forge Lord's fighting style, only a steady and relentless rhythm of hammer against God. But the Wanderer endured, His strength was a consuming rage fueled by the burning desire to break free from the world His Father had abandoned Him in. His might was the caustic compulsion to destroy all that His Father had created.

Their clash intensified and the earth trembled beneath Their feet with each thunderous blow. Phaestus's booming voice rang out against Khalas, pleading for Him to see the madness of His ways. But no voice of reason could calm the boiling anger of the unrepentant Wanderer.

Or so it was thought, until the Smith's calloused hand reached out to His older Brother, offering a path away from violence - a road to the Beyond and a fresh start for the Lost God.

Khalas' eyes flickered with confusion and hope, but that optimism died as the venomous words of Black Pazuzu tainted the air with their honeyed sweetness.

"Liar."

"Does the God not remember His own promise? He seeks to slay you, Khalas."

Rage.

Fury.

Fire.

The Eldest still-living God lashed out at His younger sibling. Blow after blow fell upon the Dwarf Lord, hammering His skull against rock, shattering His body, and drenching Memory's path in Divine blood. As Death's blade loomed over Phaestus, Neraeos and Vastar intervened, trying to quell the relentless violence. But the Wanderer would not be stopped and turned His burning wrath against Them too. The Shield of Tides broke into fragments, unable to endure the onslaught of Divine Fire and clenched fist. The Skylord struggled and gasped for air as Khalas gripped Him by the throat. The God without a Realm was a force not even Sky and Sea could stand against alone.

In the midst of the losing battle, Aegis' voice rang across the breadth of Creation. He called for retreat in an effort to forestall the deadly defeat looming over the three Divine, and Twilight aided His command. Sudden darkness enveloped the battlefield, plunging it into impenetrable obscurity. When the light returned, Phaestus' broken body was gone, the Gods had fled, and Khalas stood alone, victorious but contemplative.

Pazuzu, Prince of Woe, emerged from the shadows, congratulating Khalas on His triumph. The Wanderer turned to the primordial Demon and asked him a single question:

"They spoke of something unfamiliar to Me. Bal'met? What is that?"

The Prince of Woe's mouth curled upward, his face breaking into a malevolent, too-wide smile as the veil of Memory descended to shroud history in its depths.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Summary: Khalas approached Phaestus upon the roads of Memory, pleading for Him to join Pazuzu's cause. Phaestus refused and the two clashed in a titanic battle that left the Smith broken and on the verge of death. Neraeos and Vastar intervened but failed to do any harm to Khalas before they were forced to flee with Phaestus' body in tow.

Penned by My hand on the 20th of Chronos, in the year 923 AF.