The scent of sulphur died quickly in the back of the throat as volcanic rock gave way to vegetation almost seamlessly. The border between the Fields of Asphodel and Elysian made it sharply clear the difference between the reward of a good life and lazy one. Not that the flickering blue spirits around Simon's heels likely cared much what their afterlife smelled like. They were probably still reeling with the whole... dying experience.

Simon couldn't sympathise, having never experienced death in his Godly life, but he'd seen enough of it in all his years to understand every emotion that they could be feeling. The grief, the lingering aches, the panic. It all came with the job. The weight of centuries of guiding souls had taught him to recognize the subtle differences in how people processed their mortality.

At least he was taking them to someone who could get what they were feeling. Being the God of rebirth, you seemed to always be finding new ways to experience death. It was a strange thing to watch - Gods couldn't die, of course. But while if Simon got speared through the middle, the wound would simply close up, undetectable, you went through the motions. The pain, the bleeding out, only to round the corner a few seconds later announcing that you felt right as rain again. The first few times he'd watched it happen, he'd assumed you were putting on some sort of stupid show. Now, he understood a little more that... rebirth truly encompassed everything. Even the God who governed it.