Becoming a God: Janus Farron
I watched from afar as Tristan delivered the final blow to Scather. His sword being the focal point for a bolt of white lighting that burnt and scattered the mass that was Scather. It was over; I had seen it through to the end. The sun had risen, and Scather was nothing but ashes.

Upon his death, power rippled forth and exploded across the battlefield. It whisked past Janus, circling around him , teasing him like that of a lovers caress. Whispers played upon his ears, speaking of power and control. Speaking of even greater revenge to those who had wronged him… Janus reached out and wrapped the threads of power around his hand and pulled them close.

Ironic… They never seemed to figure it out. Scather had known that it is extreamly difficult to kill an immortal, the best solution is to simply imprision them. Otherwise the power will find someone else willing to accept it.

The threads of force wrapped tightly around Janus as two sources of energy tried to unite. Primal force and hellish rage bound into one being. They twisted around each other, only touching slightly at first, testing one another. Then suddenly they formed, gathering together in a pattern that only Janus could see. Bright vivid colors of charcoal black, emerald green, and blood red swirled together. In a rush they entered back into his body leveling him to the ground.

In this body the two sources would be at home. Both raged through Janus’s mind like a storm, burning away what was left of any conscious or remorse. He was empty, no regrets. He would no longer be bothered by the betrayal of his comrades, or the harsh reality of his failure… He just didn’t care anymore.

Janus stands up and grabs Exodus. He walks from the edges of the battlefield toward the throne that awaits him. Borghilder is not that far away..
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