In the ever-twilight realm of the Underworld, where shadows whispered and souls passed in silence, a rare warmth bloomed by the banks of the River Lethe.
The river, ever calm, shimmered faintly under the faint glow of blue lantern-flames that floated above the dining pavilion.
The tranquility of this day was not born from magic or divine command—but from the collective decision of gods and goddesses to simply rest.
Hades and his 'secretaries' has been too tired lately, so they needed to relax.
A long obsidian table stretched across a flat terrace by the river, its surface polished until it reflected the faces of those seated around it.
The air was cool and still, filled only with the gentle sound of Lethe's waters trickling by and the occasional laughter of godly voices.
Hades, Lord of the Underworld, sat at the head of the table.
Dressed in dark silks embroidered with silver thorns, his usually solemn face was softened by something uncharacteristic—contentment.
