Underworld.
City of Nox.
The Dead Drunk Bar was packed so tightly that even the air itself seemed to vibrate with noise.
Cups clashed, pitchers overflowed, divine wine spilled across the floors, and the smell of roasted meat mingled with incense smoke.
Every table was alive with chatter, with arguments, with wild laughter.
The rumors had spread like wildfire through Nox, and not even the dim light or the thick haze of smoke could drown out the frenzy caused by one simple fact: Hades had not left Aphrodite's temple all night.
"Pay up, pay up! Don't think you can wiggle out of this now!" shouted a burly heroic spirit, slamming a hand on the table piled high with coins, divine stones, and strange artifacts.
His grin was wide as he pulled the winnings toward himself. "I told you, Aphrodite would be the one! You all said Hecate, you all said Hera, but look at who's laughing now! Remember to clean up those skulls really well!"
