Frostbite

Aegis

The frost God sat huddled in a patch of tall grass, staring down at what was left of his trembling arm. He had retreated North, far away from the God of flames.

In this part of the world, practically brand-new with all the tundra melted away, there was only grass and other foliage. The soft bed of vegetation beneath him had frozen over, now rigid with ice.

The silence slowly calmed the fear within him, allowing time to finally process what had really happened to him. His lingering terror transformed itself into a frostbitten rage.

This world was once his alone, and yet he had been driven away by a newborn God.

The only other God in this world...

It was unfair.

How dare a lesser being treat him in such a way? He was there first!

Even so, he couldn't bear the thought of confronting the flame God. Next time, it may not just be his arm that disappears.

Speaking of which, the frost God took this time to finally inspect his injury.

His stump was angry and red with skin rough to the touch. A burn, one that could only have been inflicted by a divine.

Wrath built up anew as he gazed upon the nasty scar.

With his only good arm, the frost God began to sculpt. Ice formed at his fingertips and molded itself to his desires. The shape was a little jagged, unrefined, and yet undeniably sturdy.

Soon enough, he found himself gripping the forearm of a new limb.

The ice had formed clear as glass, each fingertip coming to a sharp point. Attaching it was simple enough.

He flexed his new fingers, and the joints crunched like melting snow.

This limb was satisfactory, though he couldn't help indulging a fantasy where he stole one of the flame God's arms for himself. How wonderful the contrast would be.

He could already imagine his own pale skin giving way to bronze sun-kissed flesh.

After patching himself up, the frost God began cultivating the land he would call his own.

He wanted a place where only he could safely exist.

The renovation started by turning it all back to how it once was, coated in ice and snow so thick that no plant life would ever be seen again.

He created violent storm clouds, dark and ominous. They would produce more snow until the end of time itself, ensuring the frost God's new home would remain forever frozen.

He froze bodies of water into soild ice, volcanos into freezing mountains, and his breath became the North wind; a howling wall of frigid air that would keep unwanted company out.

It was so vicious that not even a divine would be able to fight against it.

He never wanted the flame God to come and melt his home again.

Finally, he created the crown jewel of the harsh tundra. A grand temple of white ice.

This temple, an outstanding piece of architecture, would be the place he lived.

With his new homeland complete, the frost God came up with a name for himself.

He wanted the flame God to remember him when he took his revenge.

The frost God named himself Enmir.

He vowed that the flame God would one day fear that name.