“Yours is not derived from the sun or moon. It lives in the heart of Aethyria. It is the molten blackness that pumps through the veins of our world. Few gods take physical form, but this one lives within you.” Zevander puzzled his words. “Who?” “Deimos. The god of sablefyre and destruction.” Zevander’s laugh began as a slow and dissonant chuckle, but the more he thought about the old man’s words, the more ridiculous it sounded in his head.
