Divine flame washes over me as Brannug-Domhrann emerges from the forge. My frame stands firm where lesser materials would burn. The divine forging holds, permanent fragments resisting heat that would unmake bone and memory alike.

  Behind me, Eimhar's exo-harness hisses with overloaded cooling systems. He crawls backward, seeking shelter behind a fallen column. The bone shard in his chest pulses frantically against the overwhelming power before us.

  I face Brannug-Domhrann directly.

  The fused being towers three times my height, a living column of brass and divine fire. No features remain recognizable as king or god.

  Where a face should exist, only a white-hot flame burns. Arms that once wielded hammer and scepter now stretch trailing molten metal.

  Aeternus vibrates in my grip, responding to the divine presence. The sword recognizes something beyond mortal comprehension.

  The merged entity makes no attempt to speak. It simply exists, without words or thought. Divine flame pours from its core, testing the limits of my newly permanent form.

  My dragon-bone spine absorbs some of the heat, while wolf fragments along my limbs harden rather than burn.

  Carida's remains, nestled within my rib cage, remain untouched. The divine forging protects her essence completely.

  The Arkashoth fragment, however, recoils inside me. Ancient memory floods my awareness. This flame once drove the watchers deep beneath the earth, away from dwarven halls. The fragment recognizes an old enemy, one of the oldest.

  Eimhar crumples behind me, exo-harness failing as cooling systems overload. Steam erupts from ruptured vents. The mechanical arm locks in rigid position, joints fused by temperatures beyond dwarven engineering.

  Only the bone shard in his chest continues functioning.

  I step forward, placing myself between fallen dwarf and burning god.

  Where eyes should watch from beneath a crown of ancestral metal, only white-hot embers burn, devoid of recognition or reason.

  This is not king or god, but something abandoned by both identities.

  No words emerge from flame-wreathed helm, only the endless roar of divine furnace. The entity lurches forward, molten greaves leaving seared footprints on ancient stone. Each step melts brass paving to bubbling puddles.

  I have Aeternus.

  The burning colossus recognizes threat. Its head snaps toward me, eyes flaring brighter. One massive hand rises, fingers extending, flame follows.

  No reason guides its movements.

  Flame spears launch toward me, crossing the distance faster than mortal eyes could track. But wolf-bone reflexes need no eyes to sense danger. I dive aside, borrowed pieces shifting while dragon fragments spread heat through frame rather than let it concentrate and destroy.

  The flames strike stone where I stood, melting straight through brass paving to cavern rock beneath. The burning god doesn't pause to assess its failure. It surges forward, trailing waves of heat that distort air.

  I roll to my feet.

  The chamber offers little advantage, open space with scattered debris and brass paving partially melted. Pillars rise throughout, some half-collapsed from previous devastation, others still standing firm despite centuries of abandonment.

  Brannug-Domhrann charges, each step leaving molten craters in stone. Its arms transform mid-stride, flowing from royal gauntlets to forge hammers of pure flame.

  I wait until the final moment, then step aside, letting momentum carry the burning colossus past. Aeternus strikes as it passes, blade cutting through molten armor.

  But no wound remains. The flowing metal simply re-forms, sealing the cut before it registers as damage.

  The Arkashoth fragment pulses recognition from within my frame. This entity cannot be harmed by conventional means. The divine flame that preserves it also makes it nearly invulnerable.

  Nearly, but not entirely.

  I scan the chamber, searching for the source of its power. The Forge doors stand open behind it, divine light pouring through the gap.

  Within that distant chamber, something feeds the flame that sustains Brannug-Domhrann.

  Burning divinity.

  The connection must be severed.

  The burning god pivots, molten plate grinding against itself. Its ember eyes fix on me once more, jaw unhinging to release a roar that cracks stone pillars with its force alone.

  I dash toward the nearest column, Aeternus held close to avoid dragging against my movement. The burning colossus follows.

  Behind me, Eimhar struggles to rise, mechanical harness fighting to overcome heat damage. The bone shard pulses in his chest, lending strength where dwarven craft fails.

  "The chains!" he calls, voice barely carrying over forge-roar. "They anchor the Forge itself!"

  I follow his gaze upward. Massive chains hang from the cavern ceiling. They vanish through openings in the rock above, connecting to something beyond sight.

  The burning god raises both arms, heat rippling outward in visible waves. The air ignites around its hands, forming spheres of concentrated flame that orbit its molten gauntlets.

  I dive for cover as fire rains down, each impact creating pools of molten stone that continue burning.

  Persistence.

  The pattern forms no strategy, no tactics, just destruction.

  The nearest chain hangs twenty paces distant, protected by nothing but open space that offers no cover from flame attacks. I wait for the barrage to cease, counting the rhythm of fire spheres depleting.

  Seven, eight, nine...

  At the twelfth impact, the burning god pauses, molten armor flowing back into royal shape. The brief respite creates my opportunity.

  I sprint for the nearest chain, permanent fragments carrying borrowed pieces at speed no living warrior could match. The burning colossus reacts instantly, ember eyes flaring as it launches forward to intercept.

  Too slow.

  Aeternus rises as I reach the chain, blade striking ancient metal. Where dwarven steel would resist conventional weapons, the sword bites deep, its edge remembering how to sever connections both physical and mystical.

  The chain groans, its links straining against pressure both above and below. Divine light flickers as the connection weakens.

  Brannug-Domhrann's roar shakes the chamber. The burning god accelerates, molten greaves leaving flaming trails across stone. One massive arm transforms into blade of flame, swinging in an arc meant to cleave bone and purpose alike.

  I release the chain and drop, letting the attack pass overhead. Divine flame scorches my skull, the heat intense enough that dragon fragments protest despite their resistance.

  The flaming sword embeds in chain instead, severing the links that Aeternus had weakened. Metal screams as tension releases. The chain whips upward, torn apart by whatever force it once contained.

  The effect is immediate.

  Divine light from the Forge dims perceptibly. The burning god staggers, flame armor flickering around its massive frame. For a moment, ember eyes dim to dull orange, almost extinguished.

  Then they flare back to white-hot intensity, rage replacing momentary weakness.

  I roll away as a fist of liquid metal smashes into stone where I had crouched. The impact creates spider-web cracks through solid rock, testament to strength that combines dwarven might and divine wrath.

  "More chains!" Eimhar calls, his exo-harness recalibrating as systems recover from heat exposure. "There are seven in total. They anchor the Forge to something deeper!"

  I count the remaining chains. Six hang at various points throughout the chamber, each positioned to distribute weight from above.

  The burning god recovers its balance, molten armor flowing faster now, more erratic. Its movements become less coordinated but more frenzied. Flame tendrils lash out randomly, scorching stone and melting metal wherever they touch.

  One tendril catches my shoulder, dragon bone buckling under divine heat. Permanent fragments hold where borrowed pieces would disintegrate, but pain registers through memories of flesh long gone.

  I retreat behind a half-collapsed pillar, assessing damage. The shoulder joint reforms slowly, dragon fragments knitting back into functional shape. Not destroyed, but weakened.

  The burning colossus stalks forward, ember eyes sweeping the chamber for movement. Its royal shape begins to distort, the flowing metal losing coherence as divine connection weakens. In some places, dwarven features emerge briefly before submerging again beneath molten armor. A bearded face contorted in agony, hands clutching empty air, royal insignia flashing through waves of fire.

  Another chain hangs unprotected, swaying slightly from chamber vibrations.

  I shift position, moving along the pillar's shadow to avoid detection. The Wolf fragments guide each step with hunter's precision, placing bone against stone with perfect silence.

  Brannug-Domhrann pauses, head tilting as if listening despite lacking ears. The ember eyes dim momentarily, then flare anew. It turns away from my position, attention caught by movement near the forge doors.

  Eimhar stands fully upright now, exo-harness venting steam as it tries to mitigate heat damage. The bone shard in his chest pulses visibly, lending strength where mechanical systems fail.

  "Over here!" he calls, mechanical arm swinging in deliberate arc to draw attention.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The burning god roars, forge-voice scraping stone with its intensity. It charges toward the dwarf, arms transforming into bladed tendrils that writhe with anticipation.

  Eimhar holds his ground then activates something in his exo-harness. Compressed steam erupts from vents along his spine, propelling him sideways.

  The burning colossus stumbles past, momentum carrying it directly into a half-collapsed pillar. Stone shatters under the impact, sending fragments scattering across the chamber floor.

  I seize the opportunity, dashing toward the second chain. Aeternus rises and falls in practiced arc, the blade biting deep into ancient metal. The steel strikes once, twice, three times against the resistant metal.

  Behind me, the burning god recovers, ember eyes fixing on movement. It abandons Eimhar, changing direction with surprising agility for its massive frame. Flame tendrils reach outward, stretching across impossible distance.

  My blade strikes true on the fourth attempt. The chain snaps.

  Metal screams as tension releases, links snapping upward with explosive force. The backlash knocks me sideways, temporary fragments scattering across stone while permanent core maintains integrity.

  Divine light dims further.

  The burning colossus falters mid-stride, molten armor flowing slower. Parts solidify momentarily, revealing glimpses of the entity beneath. Royal armor fused with divine flesh, both consumed by eternal flame.

  Brannug-Domhrann drops to one knee, ember eyes flickering between white-hot rage and dull orange confusion. For a heartbeat, something surfaces in that molten gaze. Recognition.

  Then rage consumes recognition once more. The burning god rises, molten plate reforming around its massive frame. But something has changed. The movements lack previous fluidity. Heat radiates in narrower range. Divine flame burns with reduced intensity.

  "It's working!" Eimhar calls, mechanical leg grinding as he circles toward the third chain. "Keep cutting the anchors!"

  I nod, reclaiming scattered fragments. Borrowed pieces return to their places around permanent core, though some remain too damaged to continue. The wolf joints in my left arm slip unevenly, heat damage compromising precision.

  The Arkashoth fragment presses urgent knowledge into my awareness. An understanding of what anchors these chains, what lies beneath the Forge itself. Not corruption as I first supposed, but something older. A power that predates gods, that remembers when light first split from dark.

  The chaos that burns away creation itself.

  The burning colossus seems to sense my understanding. Its ember eyes fix on mine, hatred mingling with something else. Fear, perhaps. Or desperation.

  It raises both arms, molten metal flowing together to form a greatsword of liquid flame.

  No time to reach another chain.

  I brace as the burning god charges, its weapon leaving trails of fire through air itself. Aeternus rises in practiced defense, borrowed memories of thousand battlefields guiding every movement.

  The blades meet in explosion of opposing forces. Divine fire against death's purpose.

  My frame slides backward, bone claws carving furrows in stone as impact pushes beyond resistance. The heat overwhelms borrowed fragments, cavalry bones crumbling to ash along my right side. Only divine-forged pieces survive the contact point where weapons connect.

  But Aeternus holds.

  Not breaking, not yielding, the sword remembers endings. It knows how to grant rest to things that should not be.

  We strain against each other, neither yielding. The burning colossus presses forward, using weight and divine rage where skill has abandoned it. I hold firm, Commander Ikert's fragments providing unwavering foundation while dragon bones distribute heat that would otherwise destroy me.

  Then movement flashes from the corner of vision.

  Eimhar emerges from behind a pillar, mechanical arm trailing smoke from overheated joints. He carries a length of broken chain, the metal still glowing from proximity to divine flame.

  While the burning god focuses entirely on me, the dwarf swings his makeshift weapon. The chain wraps around the colossus's leg, links burning into molten armor.

  Eimhar yanks with all his exo-harness's strength.

  The burning god staggers, divine sword wavering as balance shifts. I seize the opportunity, disengaging from blade-lock to side-step the faltering colossus.

  Aeternus cuts across exposed back, severing divine flame where it connects to metal frame. No blood flows, only molten armor that tries to re-form but moves sluggishly now.

  The burning god roars in rage or pain. Impossible to distinguish in forge-voice that cracks stone with its intensity. It twists to face new threat, ember eyes flaring with renewed hatred.

  "The other chains!" Eimhar shouts, mechanical leg grinding as he retreats from flaming counter-attack. "I'll keep it distracted!"

  I dash toward the third anchor, borrowed fragments falling away with each step as heat damage claims temporary pieces. Only the permanent core remains fully functional, protected by divine forging against temperatures that consume all else.

  The burning colossus seems torn between targets, ember eyes tracking both threats. It chooses Eimhar, perhaps recognizing the dwarf as easier prey. The flaming greatsword reforms into twin axes, molten metal flowing with practiced precision despite the entity's deteriorating state.

  Eimhar retreats further, leading the burning god away from the chains. His exo-harness vents continuous steam, cooling systems fighting losing battle against divine heat. The bone shard in his chest pulses with steady rhythm, preserving his life force.

  I reach the third chain, Aeternus rising to meet ancient metal. The sword cuts true, each strike weakening links forged before human kingdoms rose. Divine light from the Forge dims further with each impact, the chamber growing darker despite burning colossus's presence.

  Metal groans, then snaps under final blow.

  The chamber shudders as another connection breaks. Stone cracks along the floor, fissures spreading outward from central forge doors. The burning god staggers again, more severely this time. Molten armor solidifies in patches, royal plate emerging from liquid state before flame consumes it once more.

  Four chains remain, but the pattern is established. With each connection severed, divine flame weakens further.

  The burning colossus seems to realize the threat. It abandons Eimhar entirely, turning back toward the chains with single-minded purpose. Rage and desperate preservation override all else, ember eyes fixed on metal anchors that maintain its existence.

  It charges toward the fourth chain, flame axes abandoned for pure speed. The molten frame moves with renewed determination, each step melting brass paving despite diminished heat.

  I intercept its path, Aeternus held in defensive stance. Dragon bones along my spine lock into place, distributing heat that radiates from approaching entity. Wolf joints in remaining limbs tense for combat, muscle-memory surviving long after flesh disappeared.

  We meet in the chamber's center, bone and flame clashing with impact that shakes pillars. The burning colossus swings molten fists where weapons once formed, raw strength replacing martial skill. I weave between attacks, Aeternus cutting shallow grooves through armor that flows slower with each connection lost.

  But even weakened, divine flame burns beyond mortal endurance. My frame suffers with each exchange, borrowed fragments crumbling while permanent core strains against heat never meant for bone to withstand.

  The fourth chain hangs just beyond reach, swaying with chamber's vibrations.

  Eimhar circles behind the burning colossus, mechanical parts grinding with increased difficulty. Steam no longer vents from cooling systems. All fluid boiled away in proximity to divine flame. The bone shard pulses with steady rhythm, preserving his life force.

  "Together!" he calls, "We strike together!"

  I adjust position, drawing the burning god's attention fully toward myself. Its ember eyes fix on Aeternus, recognizing the blade as primary threat. Molten arms reform into crude shield, prioritizing defense over offense.

  Eimhar circles wide, approaching the fourth chain from opposite side. His mechanical arm hangs useless at his side, joints fused by heat damage. But his hammer gauntlet remains functional on the other limb, runes still glowing despite temperatures that should have erased their power.

  I launch forward, Aeternus swinging in overhead arc meant to split divine shield. The burning colossus raises defense, ember eyes tracking blade's path with perfect attention.

  It never sees Eimhar reach the chain.

  The dwarf swings his hammer gauntlet, enchanted runes flaring as they connect with ancient metal. The impact lacks my weapon's edge, but dwarven craft focuses force precisely where needed.

  The chain, already stressed by chamber's vibrations, cracks under solid blow.

  Metal snaps, links flying upward with released tension. The burning colossus whirls at the sound, ember eyes flaring with recognition too late.

  Divine light dims dramatically.

  The chamber darkens enough that shadows form for the first time since Brannug-Domhrann emerged. The burning god staggers, molten armor solidifying in larger patches. Royal plate emerges fully in some sections, ancient metal bearing heraldry of dwarven kings long forgotten.

  Where it towered twelve feet before, now it stands barely nine. The molten mass condenses, flame retreating inward as connection to divine source weakens.

  Only three chains remain.

  I press my advantage as the burning god shrinks further, divine light fading with each broken chain.

  Another fragment of dragon bone shatters along my ribcage, but I ignore the loss.

  Only what remains matters now.

  "The fifth chain!" Eimhar calls.

  The burning colossus recovers its balance, ember eyes flickering between dull orange and bright white. Where once it moved fluidly, now it staggers like a wounded beast. Parts of royal armor remain solid, revealing glimpses of the dwarf king trapped within divine flame.

  I dart past its reaching arms, feeling heat that would instantly kill anything living. My permanent core holds where borrowed pieces crumble away.

  Aeternus strikes the fifth chain.

  The chamber quakes violently as another connection breaks. Chunks of ceiling crash down around us, stone melting where they land near the burning god.

  Brannug-Domhrann falls to one knee, molten form condensing further. Seven feet tall now, more dwarf than deity. Its armor solidifies completely along one arm, revealing intricate runes of kingship etched into metal. The ember eyes flicker rapidly, awareness surfacing beneath rage.

  It speaks for the first time, voice grating like metal against stone.

  "The chains hold back worse."

  I stop mid-swing, Aeternus hovering inches from the sixth chain.

  "No," Grave voice responds. Words still come with difficulty, borrowed vocal fragments never meant for speech. "Arkashoth is dead."

  The ember eyes flicker, confusion replacing rage momentarily. Molten metal flows slower as the burning god processes my statement.

  "I descended through the deeper dark," I continue, each word deliberate, carefully formed. "The Gravemind that warred against dwarven kind lies broken. The Watchers no more watch."

  Brannug-Domhrann's head tilts, recognition flaring in those ember eyes. The divine flame recedes further, revealing more of the dwarven king beneath. His beard, once molten metal, now solidifies into intricate braids etched with runes of office.

  "Impossible," he rasps, voice steadier now, less forge-roar and more mortal speech. "Arkashoth cannot be killed."

  "It speaks truth, my king," he says, mechanical arm hanging useless at his side. "I witnessed its destruction. The deep darkness is no more."

  Brannug-Domhrann stares at us both, ember eyes dimming to deep orange coals. Divine flame withdraws further, revealing more of the dwarven form trapped within.

  Brannug-Domhrann rises, ember eyes flickering between rage and recognition. The molten form contracts further, now barely six feet tall. Royal armor solidifies across chest and shoulders, revealing the trapped king beneath divine flame.

  "Kill me." His voice cracks.

  I hesitate, Aeternus hovering at my side. The sword knows endings, grants final rest to things that should not persist. But this is different. This is both god and king, bound by sacrifice to protect their people.

  "Kill me," he repeats. "No more. I beg you."

  The knowledge rises from my permanent core, a word beyond Aeternus, beyond Atropos. Something ancient, meant for godflame itself.

  "Erebos," I speak, the word echoing with power that predates creation.

  Aeternus transforms in my grip, blade darkening to absolute void. Not shadow, but the night before the world. The weapon that ends immortals, that grants rest to divinity.

  I step forward as Brannug-Domhrann kneels, head bowed in acceptance. The blade passes through divine flame without resistance, severing not just connection between god and king, but extinguishing the burning divinity itself.

  Light explodes outward, then collapses inward. The chamber darkens completely as divine flame extinguishes.

  When vision returns, only the dwarf king remains, armor cooling rapidly without godflame to sustain it. No hovering presence lingers where Domhrann's essence once burned. The god sacrificed all, consumed his own divinity in endless flame to maintain the chains. With the flame extinguished, both king and god find release.

  I kneel beside the king, bone arms gathering his failing form. His beard, white with centuries of agony, rests against yellowed ribs as I cradle him with gentle precision.

  "My people," he whispers, voice frail after ages projecting forge-roar. "Are they..."

  "They endure," I answer, grave-voice softened to minimum harshness. "Maha Marr stands. Dwarven craft continues."

  Relief fills his ancient eyes as breathing slows. No terror of death touches him now. After centuries of burning, darkness offers only peace.

  "The chains," he murmurs, glancing toward the remaining anchors. Without divine flame to maintain them, they hang quiet. Their purpose fulfilled now that both the burning divinity and ancient threat below are gone.

  "Secure," I respond. "The threat beneath is ended."

  The king's eyes close, peaceful expression replacing eternal suffering. "Tell them," he whispers, words barely audible even in chamber grown silent. "Tell them their king kept faith."

  I incline my skull, promise forming without words needed.

  The last dwarven king sighs once, burden released after centuries bearing weight beyond mortal design. His body remains whole, royal armor cooling to normal metal as life departs. Where once burned a fusion of king and god, now lies only the mortal vessel, its divine counterpart entirely consumed in final release.

  Eimhar kneels beside us, functional arm crossing chest in ancient salute. The bone shard pulses with rhythm that mirrors proper burial rites.

  He who had suffered goes not alone into the dark. Bone fingers arrange the king's hands over stilled heart, positioning with honor learned from a thousand battlefield farewells. Aeternus returns to normal form, purpose completed.

  The forge fire dims to normal glow, divine element fully extinguished. Where uncontrolled flame once raged, now burns only ordinary fire, sufficient for crafting but no longer divine in nature.

  I lift Brannug's body with careful precision, cradling royal form as one might carry sleeping child. The king weighs nothing against divine-forged strength, permanent fragments bearing this burden without strain.

  We leave the chamber together, death's champion carrying fallen king while living dwarf follows with tale to tell. Behind us, forge-fire burns but not the same, the divine forever extinguished but its purpose fulfilled.

  What burned has found peace. What guarded has completed duty.