Quaboth's POV - Escape scene

Quaboth strains against the tightly compacted bedrock, the last thing separating him from his sibling. He fights an already winning war, he's the god of fire, god of the most powerful earthly phenomenon, who temperament and personality had worsened during the last two thousand years.

A simple crust made of stone is nothing for the god of volcanoes, who molten rock functions as blood for the hard shaped arteries of his dominion.

He would've breached the last layers of rock in a heart beat, but he needs to be careful. Even though he has complete power over the bedrock, another god controls what is above.

The control over the sea falls to his “brother”, if he could even call the bastard that, he knows where his family is, and they are deep beneath the earth, in the bowels of the Abyss, chained like a rabid animal.

Pain assails his mind at the thought, for his very hands were responsible for forging the Urúdum bonds that keeps his sibling imprisoned. Guilt wrecks his essence apart, like being trapped between rows of bloody teeth.

His control slips, for just a second, but it could be detrimental. His power flares, barely contained, the lava chamber around him reacts in the same way as tremors rock the planet's core.

He can't afford slip ups, not when he is so close to his goal. One big enough mistake is all it will take to Chamion to find out about his plan, and if he is caught his sibling will never be free. And he won't fail them again. So even though his sibling might resent him for what happen, for his unknowingly role in the construction of their shackles, he will be successful, his life is meaningless when compared to the injustice Death suffered.

They are cowards, all of them, they knew they didn't stand a chance against Death. The only reason they still draw breath was because his sibling allowed it. So they had to bring the weak link, the only person Death or himself didn't account for, their sister. She was the only divine with the power to shield herself from Death's ever reaching gaze, as the goddess of secrets she was perfect for the job.

He would be lying if he said he saw it coming, their relationship was always a strained one, but he often tried to mitigate things between his siblings. He didn't have much success on that front.

Nemeya's greed and desire to always be on the winning side makes her a ruthless and dispassionate goddess. She doesn't care for the consequences of her actions, as long as she gets what she wants. Her city is riddled with poverty and crime, and she has explicitly prohibited any divine from interfering with her patron city. Much for Chamion's dismay, which waters bathe the city from every side.

Quaboth haven't seen her or talked to her since his sibling's imprisonment, not that he had any choice in the matter, if he could he would burst out of this place, and take every one of those pompous fuckers with him to the grave. He knows that it's only his grief speaking, not all of the gods took pleasure in what happen, but they still allowed Death to take the fall, all because they were too scared of the unknown.

Their role wasn't an active one, the planning of everything that went down came from Chamion and the twins, and of course, from Nemeya. But the other gods were still complacent with the plan, as long as their asses didn't get pushed into the Abyss with his sibling.

His power flares once again, the chamber shakes, fissures creeping along the walls and ground, and for the second time today he thinks his emotions ruined two thousand years of painstaking progress.

His hands are buried deep in the lava chamber's wall, what seems to be two miniature volcanoes sprout from the rock itself, forming a protective barrier around his arms. Bright hot veins emerge from his arms, slithering across the immense wall like giant tree roots, pulsating in time with his heart. His forehead and bright red hair are glistening with sweat, fair skin pale and clammy from fatigue, the cause being more from exhaustion than anything else, since he's immune to the intense heat.

The process of gradually liquifying the bedrock as to not draw attention from the gods has been an arduous one, but he's closer than ever. If Quaboth focus hard enough he can almost feel Death's essence through the magic barrier surrounding their prison. A barrier created by the chains he forged, from the metal only found in his dominion.

If only he could go back in time, he would have realized how naive he was for believing Chamion's request for a set of chains capable of restraining a sea creature that lived in the fathomless depths of his dominion. But the past is something no being can control, divine or not, and to keep wishing one could change it is asking to go mad. So he focus on the task at hand, let the past be buried by a mountain of guilt.

He extends his senses once more, willing the condensed rock to thaw, the process causes the nearby area to become unstable as tremors and fissures ravage the bedrock.

Rivers of lava flow between the cracks, forcing their way towards the ultimate goal, Death's prison. They suddenly slam against an apparently impenetrable barrier, sizzling upon contact, the magical shield roars in agony, enchanted nexus straining against the sheer strength behind the assault.

Quaboth's dominion responds in the same way, his magic assails the barrier, unforgiven and relentless as the chamber shakes uncontrollably, geysers shooting molten rock several meters high, pools of bright hot lava surrounding him. The very air flickers, so hot it glows a vivid orange. His massive arms strain against the invisible force, muscles bulging as heat pours out from every pore.

With bared teeth and irate ember eyes he intones. “I'm your maker, you obey no one else but me. Break.” The enchanted barrier tenses under the god's wrath, even from across the world his words carry colossal power.

Rivers worth of lava enfold themselves around the magical barrier, every particle of molten roch following their master's lead, like an orchestra heeding the conductor's directions.

Quaboth is near, so close he can feel his sibling cold aura, it yearns for him, for their bond.

He gathers all of his strength, pouring an unimaginable amount of magic behind one last command, “I said, break!” The magical dome groans piteously, and like a dying animal taking its last breath, it breaks.
The creation, as always, is weaker than the creator.

Lava flows in thick streams into the shattered prison dome. As it moves between the many cracks into open air, Quaboth finally get the first feeling in thousands of years of his sibling, and his heart shatters at what he senses.

Anger, be for those who imprisoned them here or at themselves, he does not know.
Sadness, aimed at who they thought was their family, but betrayed them in the end, for power.

Despair, when picturing an eternity in this place, far from their true home. The underworld.

Pain, so much pain, the air is thick with it. The physical type, from the seven rods thrusted inside their core, from the chains constricting their body, robbing them of any freedom. And probably the worst of all, the mental agony.

The pain assaults his heated essence, he knows his sibling isn't doing it on purpose, the feeling is almost unbearable, but he barrels on, for there's no power on this planet that could keep them apart.

He made a promise, all those years ago, and damn his soul if he's going to fail Death again.