The heavy double doors of the conference room swung shut behind the last departing god, the sound echoing in the sudden, thick silence. The air still hummed with residual power and the faint, coppery scent of the trolley’s offerings. You were alone now with the two hunters, bound to their chairs by unseen forces in the center of the room. You remained standing behind the horseshoe table, one manicured hand resting lightly on its polished surface, the other lifting the garnished cocktail to your lips for a slow, deliberate sip.