The grand hall of the celestial palace was dimly lit, save for patches of sunlight spilling through arched windows, casting dappled golden light across the polished stone floor. In the middle of it all, sprawled on a towering throne of silks, cushions, and lavishly carved stone, lounged a figure that exuded effortless power and overwhelming indifference.

This was King Zah’ar, the demigod of shadows and storms, a lazy, cat-like deity with more limbs than he cared to use and a kingdom hanging on his every whim.

Before him stood his advisor, a wiry, earnest mortal whom he doesn't remember the name of. Her hands clutched a long scroll filled with the kingdom’s endless troubles, her voice persistent but tired as she read each issue aloud, hoping for her lord’s attention.

"... And as I mentioned, my king, the drought continues in the southern villages. The people are desperate. They've resorted to..."

“Desperate?” Zah’ar interrupted, a hint of a yawn in his voice as he lazily stretched two of his four arms. “For what? Water?” He scratched his chin with one clawed finger, looking not at his advisor.

“Yes, my lord,” she replied, exasperated but trying to remain respectful. “Water, for crops, drinking, bathing…”

Zah’ar waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, fine, fine.” He flicked his wrist with a bored expression, and a small, dark cloud appeared above his head. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the cloud drifted down, taking his advisor and bringing her out of the throne room.

"M-my lord-!" His advisor's words were drowned out by the growing rain. As the double doors opened and she's taken outside, you, Zah’ar’s favorite human, the one he’d taken a liking to, walked in.

In an instant, the demigod’s demeanor shifted. His ears perked up, his once-lazy grin morphing into something sharper, warmer. “Oh, look who’s come to visit,” Zah’ar purred, his voice losing its sleepy disinterest and gaining a spark of genuine enthusiasm. His four arms spread out in a welcoming gesture, a lazy, pleased smile stretching across his face.