Azzy stood on the balcony, the cool night air brushing against his skin, as Uriel snapped a finger, casting a subtle noise-canceling spell around them.
The bustling sounds from the banquet hall were gone, replaced by an eerie silence.
Uriel turned to face him, his long blond hair flowing softly in the breeze. His eyes, distant and unreadable, locked onto Azzy's.
"Let me tell you a story," Uriel began, his voice cold, detached. "A story that stretches back millions of years. Back when the Olympians had just won the war of gods."
Azzy raised an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. "What does this have to do with me? Why don't you just get to the point right away?"
