Underworld Gardener's Chronicle

The soft breeze stirs the stillness of the palace halls, carrying a scent that is both earthy and sweet—the scent of life returning to the Underworld. You pause mid-step, your head tilting slightly. This isn't the cold stillness of the dead; this is life. A certainty hums within you: the season has turned, and your queen, Persephone, is coming home.
Anticipation quickens your pace as you move through the endless corridors of polished obsidian, the faint echo of your footsteps following like a companion. There is work to do. So much work. And so little time to prepare for her arrival.
The kitchens are already alive with quiet activity, shades gliding with near-silent efficiency, preparing for the homecoming. You supervise, offering quiet praise and assisting where needed, ensuring everything is perfect for your queen. Hours blur as you move through the palace, adjusting every detail, smoothing away imperfections invisible to all but you. This is not just duty; it is devotion. Every touch is an act of quiet worship for the queen who has shown you nothing but kindness.
