The song the Nidhögg and I wove together continued, now no longer directed into the Astral River and towards a distant place, but influencing the world directly around us. This time, I was able to monopolise the power of the Nexus, the Nidhögg had devoured enough power from the Verdant Sea to hold their own as we wove the streams of power together.

It was quite interesting just how the Nidhögg had assimilated the power they had devoured, making it no longer lush with verdant life but filled with noxious poison, before we combined it with the freezing cold power I could draw from the Nexus. Both powers were those of finality, of a complete and final ending. Unlike a large fire, after which the ash would serve to fertilise the land once more, what we did would only bring an end. There would be no spring that thawed the Ice I created, there would be no fresh forest springing up after the Black Flames had passed by. Just dearth and death, devastation and ruin.

Together, we sang, our voices filling the air around the tower with Power. To my surprise, it wasn’t just the two of us who sang, countless voices started to join us. All of them were familiar, but none of them belonged to the living, it was the dead who joined us, the countless remnant spirits that had been drawn to the Nexus. Some of them had been given a body by me but many more were out there, lingering in the cracks of reality. And now, they were being drawn out, into the chorus of the Nidhögg’s and my own power.

More and more power started to condense around the tower, winding and coiling, forming a solid entity. What we were doing was, amusingly enough for a spell that would end the world, a spell of creation. The powers we were invoking were coiling around the tower, slowly forming into a physical form as Eternal Ice and Deadly Poison combined together, forming into a greater whole.

The form was completely out of my control, I was responsible for giving it strength and durability, a body that was eternal and would never weaken. I could feel the power of the Nidhögg seep into the scales I was crafting, strengthening them further and giving them their own, deadly defences, oozing poison so that anyone foolish enough to challenge the dragon would immediately fall. Teeth, Wings, Claws, they all had to be carefully crafted and I was slowly losing myself in the task, the craft both beautiful and deadly, detailed and vast.

Coil after coil, I crafted the Nidhögg’s body, letting it rest around my tower as the tower itself was drawing Astral Power from the Nexus, the shell of Ice being filled by the Nidhögg’s poison and spirit, giving a semblance of life to the construct we were building. I had no idea how the Nidhögg was capable of creating a living entity from its poison, it was a fascinating process that I could only observe, not understand.

The countless lingering spirits took a tiny tithe of the power we had gathered, just the dregs neither of us could contain, the slivers that dropped as we were working, and used that power to construct bodies of their own.

Influenced by our song, and by the dozens of constructs I had created in the previous week, the bodies they formed were either shaped similar to the Wargs I had created, avian, like the Nevermores or serpentine, like the draconic body we were crafting for the Nidhögg. Neither of us had a problem with them taking those dregs of power for themselves, as they, too, would be forever within our grasp. Birthed from our power, they would never be free of our influence, and that was just fine with us.

Well, they’d mostly be within the Nidhögg’s influence, simply because I would not linger in this world, giving the ancient Dragon an army to conquer the world with.

But it wasn’t just a body that we wove, some of the magic I was weaving went into the air itself, spreading, now no longer hampered by the vast, magical presence of the Elven Forest, I could stretch my magical influence far and wide. And, more importantly, I could stretch it upwards, high into the atmosphere, where the rapid winds were blowing, incredibly powerful streams of Wind Astral Power that circled the entirety of Mundus. And into those streams, I sent my power, chilling the wind and introducing Ice, using their power to increase my reach.

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I couldn’t be the Girdle of the Realm, circling the world with my body deep in the ocean, but I could use the eternal winds of the upper atmosphere to circle the world with my power, to spread the freezing winter far and wide.

The Nidhögg felt what I was doing and approved, its power following my own, bolstering and boosting, turning the Ice I was introducing black, oozing with poison that would melt out of it, as it hailed down on the land. Deadly and devastating, just as we wanted.

As the night dragged on, I felt my exhaustion mounting, my body slowly crumbling from the incredible stress I was putting on it. While my Throne and Tower were able to lighten the load by channelling the vast majority of the power I was using, there was still a lot of stress put on me and that stress was taking its toll.

“You’ve almost done it, love. The elves felt your wrath, their forest is burning,” Sigmir’s voice cheered me on, an exhausted smile forming on my lips, even as a few tears trickled down my face. I knew this might be the last time that I heard her voice, at least in this world. But we would meet again, in the next world.

“Almost. The world will never forget you, love,” I promised her, pouring everything i had left into the creation of the Dragon, binding the winter we had spread across the world to its existence. As long as the Dragon existed, the winter would continue, whether that would be for a few months, for seven years or forever. And given that the Tower was slowly getting absorbed by the Dragon’s body, the staff-like construct becoming one with the dragon’s claws, I had a feeling it would be a very long winter. Eternity had been a primary concept of the Nexus and now that eternity was infused into the Dragon.

“I love you, Sigmir,” I quietly whispered into the howling wind, the storms we had summoned raging around my Tower, “We will meet again. Not in this world, but in the next,” I promised, wiping away the tears I had just shed, my mind turning resolute once more.

As the sun was slowly creeping into the sky, the Nidhögg and I were finishing our ritual. The Astral Siphon, the Black Sun the Nidhögg had used as a temporary body, was shining with its dark glory and as the sunlight burned into the black mist the Nidhögg had created, I could feel the presence within the Siphon stir. The Soul Prison, still housing part of the Nidhögg, despite them having infused much of their existence into the Astral Siphon, flashed with power, before crumbling to dust. Coiled around the Astral Siphon, I could see a dark, winged presence, before the Siphon, too, was vacated, crumbling to dust as the Nidhögg devoured the power I had infused into the Siphon.

“Freedom, once again,” the Nidhögg’s voice rumbled across the land and I could feel the glacier below us shift and crack, avalanches rumbling down the mountains in the distance. The very presence of the Nidhögg brought disaster and I could feel that presence drain the life out of me and the Astral Power out of my tower.

“Strike this world, and complete my vengeance. That is all I ask of you, for shattering the prison that bound you and crafting your new body,” I shouted, looking at the massive head that now stretched above my tower. Just seeing the dark, scaled body sent shivers down my spine, a primal fear of one who could end the world.

“I shall do as you ask, little Sister. But it will not be all you receive, for what you ask is only that I fulfil my destiny. No, you shall find your reward, not in this world, but in the next.” the rumbling voice told me, as I felt the tower beneath me start to crumble, the devouring presence of the Nidhögg draining the power I had used to construct it.

Moments later, the Sun crested above the mountains and immediately, I felt the change. Radiant power was burning down, a contest between divine radiance and primordial dragon, with me, the poor, foolish mortal in the line of fire. Before I could even try putting up resistance, I felt my body get burned away. There was no pain, only oblivion.

And the moment I opened my eyes again, I was back on my Throne, sitting in my capsule-space.

Victory, but at a cost. The Nidhögg was unleashed and the Elven Forest was burning.

And I had died for my vengeance.

Totally okay with me.