As Andohr settled onto his throne, Seraphine, the Goddess of Information, entered the hall with a graceful stride. The rumors she had gathered from her network of spies had hinted at the impossible, yet here it was confirmed—Andohr had indeed escaped his long confinement.
"Seraphine," Andohr greeted, his voice tinged with amusement.
"Andohr, you're here... How did you...?" Seraphine's voice faltered, her usually unflappable demeanor shaken. Even she, the omniscient goddess, couldn't fathom how Andohr had managed his escape.
"I grew tired of waiting for the pantheon to care about my fate," Andohr replied with a scornful laugh. "So I took matters into my own hands and won, as I always do."
Silence fell over the hall for a moment as Seraphine processed his words, then gracefully took her seat on a throne adorned with carvings of hooded figures—a symbol of her vast network of spies.
