Supay stood at the mouth of his mine, a shadow breathing sulfur. Sulfurous Shroud. He beckoned to the great bird circling above. "Come down," he whispered. Miner's Whisper. "I have gold. I have secrets. I have death."
The Simurgh descended, but not to bargain. Her wings spanned the valley. They shone with the light of thirty birds.
The Purge
Supay lashed out with Ukhu Claim, trying to drag the bird's soul into the rock.
The Simurgh beat her wings once. Gale of the World-Tree.
A wind smelled of cedar, saffron, and rain blasted the mine entrance. It wasn't just air; it was pure vitality. It scrubbed the Sulfurous Shroud from the air. It turned the stagnant mine water into a clear spring.
Supay screamed as the purification burned him more than any fire. The concept of death could not hold its ground against the absolute presence of life. The Lord of the Underworld retreated deep into the crust, fleeing the terrible cleanliness of the Simurgh's light.