Dodge’s first impulse was to better this place as he had done with the Land: to raise up a high place and build upon it a fair Palace in which to dwell and take his pleasure. But remembering the lesson he had just learned, he chose otherwise, and took the Firmament just as it was. Air had given the place a sort of weather, driven by the heat of the fires that burned in the craters, and from place to place whirlwinds formed, some smaller and some larger. Several merged to make a great one that towered high above the place, lit from below by the fires of several craters. Dodge deemed this as good a place as any to convene all of the souls who had been flung hither by El, and so he flew from one end of the Firmament to the other, urging all to go there. Their forms had all been more or less damaged, and none of them possessed the understanding given to Dodge concerning figments and appearances. So they were all crippled, and changed beyond recognition, and their movement toward the whirlwind was not swift. But Dodge abided there patiently until all of them had arrived, and gathered around him.

“Hail Egdod, who has passed through the fire unscathed!” cried one of them, whom he recognized, with some difficulty, as Ward.

“Here, I am Dodge,” Dodge proclaimed. “You too are deserving of a new name to go with your altered form and your new dwelling place. I shall know you henceforth as War, for that is likely to be your business.”