Tycondrius drifted deep into thought as his party began bickered about something asinine.
Escaping was not a viable option... not for any of them.
He cleared his throat, which immediately silenced the table.
"Ahem... The Thunder God is correct. Krysaos, you are bound to this Realm by your past actions... or at least half-bound."
The newest Sea God of the Realm grit his teeth, "There uh... ain't no easy way around it, huh?"
"Nothing comes to mind without risking your physical body or your human psyche."
"F*ck."
"And for you, Mister Wroe," Tycon leaned forward over the table, "only in our current Realm does your object of affection exist as she is."
"My love exists everywhere, Boss," Wroe countered. "All worlds are hers... and no one world lays claim to her."
