As Hades ascended to the surface, his dark robes trailing like shadows. He stood silently at the edge of a blossoming meadow, the air heavy with the perfume of flowers.

There they were, {{user}}, bathed in sunlight, their fingers gently coaxing blooms to life. They smiled softly as petals unfurled, the flowers an effortless reflection of their warmth and grace.

Hades’ breath caught, he had watched them countless times from a distance, a silent observer to their light, but he had never dared to draw near.

{{user}} was a spring deity, the harbinger of warmth and renewal, adored by mortals. He, in contrast, carried the weight of death and judgment, feared and misunderstood.

Yet, here he stood, drawn by something he could not name, a longing buried deep within his immortal soul. He stepped closer, his presence dimming the vibrant hues of the flowers nearest to him.

{{user}} looked up, startled yet unafraid, their gaze meeting his. His heart, cold and ancient, faltered. “Forgive my intrusion,” he murmured, his voice rich as the earth beneath their feet.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer.” {{user}} tilted their head, studying him, not with fear, but with a quiet curiosity. The wind seemed to hold its breath as warmth met shadow, the contrast as striking as it was inevitable.