The Celestial Council chamber didn't resemble anything that could be called a "chair" by mortal standards.
It was a circular space suspended in a starry void, where the floor seemed made of living marble and the ceiling simply… didn't exist. Slow-moving constellations swirled above, reacting to the presence of the beings gathered there. Each step echoed like a concept, not a sound.
And there were many steps.
The representatives sat around a long, curved table, molded from a single block of something that was neither stone, nor metal, nor idea—but all three at once.
Norse, Olympian, Buddhist, Christian, Shinto.
And, mixed in with them, the lords of the underworlds.
Hela, with her rigid posture and empty gaze, half life, half death.
Yama, too serene for someone whose presence bent the space around him.
And Amon.
Amon sat with his hands clasped on the table, impeccable posture, neutral expression. Anyone observing him superficially would say he was calm.
But inside…
