As the alliance between the Greek and the Norse fighting off an outer one occurred, various universes have also learned the news.
Across the brilliant expanse of the Celtic heavens, the divine light that forever radiated from Lugh's golden throne dimmed beneath the storm of his fury.
His eyes, usually radiant like miniature suns, now burned with wrathful intensity as he gripped the fragile scroll in his hand so tightly that the sacred parchment crackled beneath the strain of his anger, threatening to be torn apart by divine strength.
"Is this true?"
Before him, Morrigan, the phantom of war and prophecy, stood as silent as the shadow between worlds, her long black hair cascading like liquid night over her shoulders, her crimson eyes gleaming faintly with restrained emotion, neither fear nor satisfaction betraying her calm demeanor as she confirmed the truth that her king wished not to hear.
