“We’re their gods now,” Hades said, conjuring flower vestments for Prometheus. Hades flexed and fluttered his enormous wings as the gathered tried to just believe their eyes.

“Azim, of the sun. And Nhaama, of the moon. That’s you,” he said back in Amaurotine, fixing Prometheus’ flower crown with a wing claw. “Anyway, you shouldn’t need to stay cooped up in a Xaela form too many more times.”

“Our Gods, what can we do, how may we please you?” one asked.

Hades looked to Prometheus. “Well?”