Hades calmly adjusted his dark cloak, its edges rippling faintly as though absorbing the surrounding light, before stepping out of the pocket dimension and into the vast marble corridors of Odin's golden palace.
The echoes of laughter, the melody of lyres, and the clinking of goblets reached his ears long before he arrived at the grand doors of the throne hall.
Behind him, Nyx emerged—her midnight gown glimmering faintly like a fragment of the cosmos, her hair cascading like liquid night as she followed him while walking in silent grace.
When the doors opened, the hall was still drowned in celebration.
Music, laughter, and divine revelry filled the air as gods of two pantheons mingled without care for rivalry or origin.
But the moment Hades stepped inside, the atmosphere subtly shifted, like a ripple through still water—the weight of his presence silencing the noise for a heartbeat before it slowly resumed, though more restrained, more reverent.
