In our hubris, we set a trap for a god. We were powerful enough that it might have worked, and foolish enough to imagine the odds in our favor.
It is said that Gix, water god, cannot resist a drowning maiden. We kidnapped an innkeeper’s child, dressed her in finery, and threw her into a pond.
The plan was to freeze the water with magic when Gix appeared therein. When Gix, a hundred crackling feet of angry ice, arose from the empty basin, we knew the extent of our failure.
I live only because I betrayed the others to him.