Four thousand years had passed by like a dream not remembered. The Land Beyond All was transformed. It had become a desert of white and blue, and eternal ice covered what once was a sunken paradise.

Arkas stepped forward, the snow sinking deep below his foot. His soul yearned for the ancient temple, and he looked at the sea of pristine white ahead, as if he could find the shapes of the old towers in it. It was white and flat like a never-ending valley, except for his bloody tribute of human bodies and the sea of red beneath.

He could feel the power emanating from beneath the ice, like a hot furnace brimming in the eyes of its handler. After all, the ancient Heavenstones were beneath, as if mummified by the freezing cold, all charged with supernal magic, with the power to rule the earth and its miserable creatures, the power to make them submit and worship forever.

A power that lay beneath the ice.

His tribute was the only thing that challenged the pristine landscape, and Arkas hoped it was good enough. He hoped that it pleased his Master. After all, the blood of hundreds was still fresh and dripping, painting the snow red. Upon it, like a mountain of bodies, was a fresh sacrifice. Far ahead, where the Altar Tower would be, there was an open treasure chest, longer than a battering ram. Its contents had been placed like an offering upon an altar. There, over an iron casket lie the bones of a giant, his loins and legs of diamond.

Where were his brothers? He knew Leviathan had finished his task. He expected the Titan to come down and offer a sacrifice equal or greater. Arkas did not care about killing the most. He needed not that, only that the purpose was achieved.

And then, Leviathan descended from the sky, bursting into the earth like lightning falling. He was colored like lead. The giant stood, crouched, held what looked like a mountain on his back, with severed roots and trunks, rocks, and earth that fell like water from an overflowing vase.

“Brother!” Arkas spoke in an ancient tongue. “What took you so long?”

“Silence! I was the first. This offering will please Him.”

He quickly let the contents of the mountain slide down, falling like a river of yellowish grey; bones of men, women, and children, skulls and bones, all clean and intact, pouring down like flour.

“Dry bones, dry bones! No blood for your master? Have you drunk it all?” Arkas asked.

“My Master needs the bones!” Leviathan shrieked, still holding the mountain on his hunched back. “He needs the bones! They please him, the bones!”

“Foolishness. Extra work,” Arkas muttered. “And where are the Treasures?”The treasure appeared at the end of the pile of bones, preserved in an ancient chest made of iron, leather, and wood. Leviathan stretched his long, grey arms to retrieve it. The treasure was almost as big as his arm. He solemnly placed it on top of the mountain of bones, crushing the cover of the chest as he did so. From it, he extracted arms made of diamond, shaped like human bones, but perfect and indestructible.

Soon, Azrel emerged from the sea, cracking the ice as he did so. His body was blue like the sea, constructed from it. He presented his tribute on a huge stone dial, possibly aligned with a heavenly body.

He dropped the bodies, hundreds of them, but their exact number was not counted. They all appeared to be alive, as if they were merely sleeping, except for their pale clammy skin and closed eyes. Azrel loved to drown them and preserve them in his underwater realm.

Arkas gazed back at the eternal white and red sky and the endless expanse of white stretching out behind him. From there, he saw the others descend from heaven like bolts of lightning. Both of them carried what resembled the upper dome of a grand temple, along with fragments of pillars that had been torn apart by their power. They carried the bounty. One of them was Armaros, the Red, whose three hundred eyes seemed to penetrate Arkas’ soul. The other was Kokubel, the One-Eyed giant, also known as the White One, now with his body painted in blood.

Armaros held something under his arm, another treasure that had been perfectly preserved. It seemed to be a breastplate for giants, adorned with shiny, green plates resembling emerald, like the scales of a serpent. It was made of an ancient mineral not found on Earth, but from a realm beyond.

“Once again, you’re late,” Arkas remarked.

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“Time is eternal,” responded Kokubel, the cyclops. “Time is one.”

“Well, you made us wait,” Arkas retorted.

“Wait longer, for eternity will unfold before you. We are one step away from total domination.”

“It’s not just one step, Kokubel,” Arkas corrected. “There are sorcerers on Earth.”

“Sorcerers?” Leviathan inquired. “Have they challenged you?”

“Warriors? How could they?” Leviathan scoffed. “What other way than with ancient magic? Isn’t the power sunken? We have already plundered the greatest city of this time, and no one could harm us.”

“Silence!” cried Kokubel, the One-Eyed giant. “Our master must rise. Save your talk for later. Right now, we must perform our ritual.”

They arranged the treasures, the remains of their king, and faced the sacrifices – the pile of bodies, bones, and blood – with solemn eyes. They extended their gargantuan hands, feeling energy flowing through their immortal bodies like water. They stood in silence as the sun remained motionless in the sky, casting defiant light upon the now-submerged holy altars.

And their voices reverberated like thunder.

“We summon you, O master. We have returned.”

Their voices shook the icy sea. They recited the ancient incantation in the Elder tongue – a chant that chilled the bones of men, possessing a magic so profound it could lay waste to cities, it could slaughter thousands with a single word.”Myriad souls, bones, and souls to you, bones and souls to you, our lord, Samaysa. Blood and souls!”

Suddenly, the ice below began cracking, from the center of their offering, growing to encircle the Tributes. The blood drained inside the open ice, staining the water below with red.

“Bones and souls!” they chanted for the third time, and the ice burst like a crystal breaking into myriad pieces, and everything sank into the depths. The giants exchanged confused glances, except for the Cyclops. He remained still.

And then, the earth shook beneath them, and streaks of pink and purple light emerged from the water. The light of the midnight sun was opaque with their mauve vapors and lights. The pink turned to blue as the ice around them sank, and a new structure emerged from the depths as they ran, not to fall into the sea, making way for the things to come. The building emerged, and water overflowed like huge waterfalls. It was a tower of crystalline stone, marvelous and monstrous, with spiked pillars covered in diamond-shaped tips, high curved walls, hollow and grim. Along with it, the Throne emerged, an altar of stone, shiny and green and opaque.

The last one to emerge was the Fallen. He rose, floating in the air. His splendor spread like the sun, accompanied by pink thunder that rained from heaven and lit the darkened sky around him. He emerged from the center, his entire being radiating white light, reflecting the green beauty of his serpentine armor. He emerged and stood above the altar.

He looked human, except for his size and the perfection of his features. His head was bald like a pearl, his eyes green like emeralds, his nose like an ivory jewel, his muscles like marble. He rose over the dark sky like a new heavenly body, his own splendor surpassing that of the moon, and soon, it would overwhelm the sun.

“Hail, Fulgurous one, Iapetus, oh Samaysa!” the Cyclops shouted.

He had his eyes closed, ecstatic, and slowly descended and stood straight upon the altar. A set of stairs led to the tower, or rather, the pillar, and a gargantuan throne stood at its feet. Soon, the mauve smoke dissipated, and the Giants glanced at the majestic construction that supported the tower. Thousands of skulls, bones of arms and legs, rib cages supported each platform of stairs, extending from the surface to the water below as a sure foundation of death, all crystallized into stone.

“My sons!” the Luster screamed, his voice like the echo of ice and snow through a thousand years, low and dark.

“Our king!” the giants bowed to the ground. Finally, he was awake.

“You paid your debt well.”

“Our king,” the Cyclops, High Priest, spoke. “We were banished for four thousand years, but those who cast us out have left. They abandoned their earth when they saw their puny creation. They left, never to return.””I see,” the King of Giants stepped down the stairs. His entire armor reflected the light of his countenance into the world. “I have dreamed of this for years. I awaited death in my dreams, and I knew.”

“It is time, nothing can deter us!” Leviathan shouted.

Samaysa took a deep breath and smiled coyly.

“It is indeed time.”

“We shall conquer the whole world, our lord,” the Cyclops shouted, the blood on his body turning black, coagulating over his cold skin. “We shall lay waste to the empires of the earth, we shall baptize the world in blood and fire.”

“Yes!” the king’s voice resounded through time. “But hear me, oh sons of heaven.”

He lifted his head to the purple sky, to the midnight sun veiled beneath mauve clouds.

“What do we yearn for?” the King shouted.

“Power!” they claimed. “Power is what moves us gods, power is our currency.”

“It is, and you, my children, you have been born and cursed. Through me, I built bodies more perfect and powerful than any others. You feed on blood, you feed on destruction. But I feed on something else. I need the whole world to worship me.”

The giants exchanged glances.

“I will be king, but let me give this world what it desires. You shall get your share of blood and death, but this is the way. This is the way.”

“We are linked to you, our king!” Arkas yelled. “You gave us undying life.”

The King of Giants smiled. He was pleased.

“I shall find a way for our rule to be cemented. But hear the words of your master, as I have dreamed many things through the centuries. Hear my words, for in them there is wisdom. If you march into the world and force them to yield, they shall fear and rebel until there is no more blood to drink. Nay, there is another way, for I have already devised a plan for you.”

“What is it, my lord?” the Cyclops asked.

“Feed them, like they feed cattle before the slaughter.”