Tyr instinctively reached out to catch the crown of the King of Murder. The thorn-covered crown of blood immediately cut his wrist, spilling great drops of divine blood onto the plains of the Endless Wilderness, but the God of Justice did not care.
Even after inflicting such devastating injuries, the gods were not satisfied. They turned their attention to Cyric himself, still bound, and some of their gazes had already grown malicious.
Midnight and Lathander hated Cyric most of all. They could hardly wait to tear his face apart.
Why could Cyric, who stood at the very pinnacle of greater deities, do nothing but suffer a beating from the gods of the Realms?
The reason was simple: Midnight had revoked Cyric's access to the Weave.
Magic was the foundation of the Realms. Without the Weave, Cyric could not use divine magic or cast spells, and even wielding his own divine power became difficult.
Thus, in a sense, the Goddess of Magic was the most powerful deity in Realmspace-provided she did not violate the laws laid down by Ao.
Yet Helm once again stood in Midnight's way, just as he had stood before the Second Goddess of Magic during the Time of Troubles.
"Stop!" the God of Guardians said stubbornly, obstinately. "This is enough. Under the law we established concerning the Chaos Hellhound Kozef, if a deity breaks the seal, the other gods have the right to punish him, but not to kill him!"
"Helm is right." Torm, the God of Loyalty and Courage, also resolutely stepped in front of Midnight and Lathander. "And as the Binder said, Cyric is the God of the Dead. He rules the City of Strife, and no other god may enter the Underworld without an invitation. If we kill him, what will happen to its