The doors of the Hall groaned open, leading out to the Celestial Gardens.
It was a surreal sight. Nebulae swirled overhead like clouds, and the grass was made of soft, blue starlight. Waiters—faceless spirits in white vests, carried trays of ambrosia to the gods who had decided to linger.
It was the "After-Party." A chance for the deities to gossip, form secret alliances, and complain about the drop rates of their respective zones.
Aurelius stood at the edge of the terrace. He had cleaned the dirt from his golden armor, but the stain of humiliation remained. He refused to look at the statue of Red that now dominated the entrance.
Instead, he turned his burning golden gaze toward the "Swamp Table." He glared at Red. Then, his eyes shifted to Gorr and the Rotting Druid, who were clinking glasses and laughing at a crude joke about granite.
