The sky darkened, a turbulent clash of storm fronts.
On one side hovered Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent, his coils shimmering with the iridescent green of the jungle canopy. He brought with him the warm, humid gales of the tropics.
Opposite him stood Perun, the Golden-Bearded. He held his axe, the sheer presence of it causing the air to crackle with static and ozone.
"A serpent," Perun growled. "I hate serpents."
The Winds of the West
Quetzalcoatl did not fear him. He was a god of creation, of breath. He opened his jaws and unleashed Ehecatl's Gale—a hurricane wind meant to strip the clouds bare.
Perun roared, swinging his axe to cleave the wind itself. But Quetzalcoatl was too fluid. The Feathered Serpent wove through the lightning bolts, striking Perun with a tail lash that sent the Slavic god stumbling backward across a thunderhead.
Quetzalcoatl recognized the raw power radiating from the Thunder God and unleashed a beam of Morning Star Radiance, a blinding white light.
The Sky Strikes
"Enough games, serpent!" Perun commanded.
He steadied his footing on the storm clouds and spun his axe until it became a disc of pure white fire. He waited for the Serpent to charge.
Quetzalcoatl dove, his fangs burning with the heat of the sun. But as he committed to the strike, Perun hurled the axe.
The weapon struck Quetzalcoatl mid-coil. It wasn't just lightning; it was the raw, unbridled authority of the storm. The bolt severed the wind currents that kept the massive serpent aloft, shattering his atmospheric control.
Quetzalcoatl fell, crashing down through the clouds. Pinned by the overwhelming force and hammered by the sky, Quetzalcoatl realized the tactical error of challenging a thunder god head-on.
"You fight without honor!" Quetzalcoatl hissed, summoning a final gust to slow his descent.
Perun landed heavily above him, reclaiming his returning axe. Quetzalcoatl, recognizing the checkmate, dissolved into a warm breeze and fled back to the West.
Perun spat on the clouds. "Good riddance. Now, where is Veles..."