“Where is he”, is the first thing he demands, staring dead straight at the people sitting around a stone table, dressed in ethereal clothing and leisurely sipping on ambrosia while enjoying the beautiful weather and picturesque surroundings.
The Chóros looks more perfect than even the most wonderful mortal imaginations of what they think heaven would look like.
Where Cane had come to has clear blue skies, a meadow with a spread of beautiful flowers, the scent soft and soothing in the air, just adding more to the decadent atmosphere.
And right in the middle of this meadow, are a group of chattering deities and divine creatures, having meaningless conversation and gossiping about whichever other deity is absent (less powerful than they are of course, it would be stupid to offend a more po
