High atop a hill, far from the effects of the war between men and divine, Hades, Lord of the Dead, wore his shadowed crown with a solemn dignity.
His dark robes fluttered gently with the windless air.
He sat upon a lone boulder, hunched forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
He had been watching the battle, from start to now, when Herios—the Unifier of Man, the God-Slayer, the King of Humanity—has diedd.
Hades breathed deeply, a sad, wistful smile playing on his lips.
"...Aah, so it's finally over." he murmured. "A mortal who defied the divine… yet died not with hatred, but honor. Herios, you are truly a great man."
Hades stood, looking behind him over his shoulders, "So? Are you ready to move on?"
Behind him, a shape materialized slowly from the mist and shadow, stepping into the soft glow of the fields beyond.
It was Herios
His eyes were calm, deep, and full of a strange peace… and sorrow.
Hades turned to face him.
