Peace rarely lasts long in the world of the gods.
At the pitch-black depths of the ocean, where light surrenders before it can even touch, tranquility feels so profound, almost painfully tender in its gentleness. Nerys's temple stands in warm silence, its coral walls emitting a soft glow like the embrace of a long-lost mother, while the water currents flow gently like the breath of an ancient creature finally able to sleep without nightmares. There is no clash of swords, no soul-rending screams, no wills colliding until reality cracks.
Sylvia's group is resting a rest that feels like the first breath after drowning for too long.
