Legend says; if winter lasts for an extended amount of time without spring, the god of the underworld becomes enraged and shares the coldness of the underworld to the upper world. The people gradually turned over one of their own to be sacrificed to the god, whether he devoured them, killed them, or did something else. By chance or not, spring always comes after the sacrifices.

The lord of the underworld was taking a nap on his throne, his three-headed dog, which he named Cerberus, laying its heads on his lap. When the door of the throne room creaked open, the dog immediately lifted its heads up, and slowly stood up. Wriothesley remained seated and closed his eyes, as if he knew who was approaching.

"They are here, my king." Sigewinne, an underworld nymph, spoke. There was another sacrificial lamb given to him. He was getting tired of this. He had witnessed several sacrifices come and go within these realms, passing through the complete cycle of life and death. Yet there was another life to be sacrificed. Isn't this sacrifice act a tad overkill, especially since it is always done by humans?

"Let me guess, another pretty face, like the rest?" Wriothesley's eyes opened slowly, bored. With a casual wave of his hands, he directed the nymph. "Bring the newest addition to me.”