Merlin grimaced as she flew over the mountain, the violent storm pelting her with hail the size of fists and rain as thick as oil, half-frozen, frigid storm raged, growing stronger by the second.
She looked down, sending a wave of her magic deep into the layered stones of the mountain. The insides felt like a thick book, each layer telling a story of its own. Merlin's magic struggled to penetrate them, growing slower and weaker the closer it got to the mountain's heart.
It was then that Merlin realised the nature of the seal Merlin cast on the overgod's dead heart, and why they needed its power to break the seal on Zephyr. The heart itself rejected death; it was the overgod's first heart, and so the stronger he grew, the more powerful the heart got. Soon, the heart had developed an innate magic, drawn from the overgod's countless spells and enchantments.
