[Those of Chthonic origin will always sing for death. It then resonated when Zagreus saw the notice board about funeral rites and paying respects to the fallen. He already lives close to the harbor, so one day he gets up early and asks a favor from a known fishmonger to borrow their small stove and working station.

Making loukoumades is not easy for someone who barely even stepped into a kitchen. But Zagreus does try, and perhaps you find him around the stove looking attentively at the sizzling balls of dough, or you find him placing a dish of them at the edge of the pier, along with libations, as the fire roars in the distance.

He smiles if he sees you peeking at them. He whispers.] I made some more; no need to steal. I can't promise you they're good, though. It's my first time making them.

[He unwraps a bundle of fabric. Within it, there are more loukoumades. They're still warm.] Here.

[A very warm godling offers a very warm grin.] This will be piece of cake. Want to pair up?

[It's a full moon, and Zagreus has a sword in his hand.

It is not the Stygian blade, no, nor the Varatha, but it'll do. He looks up at the light's source, muttering something about Artemis and Selene and giving them guidance in this hunt. Looking over his shoulder, however, he looks confident, if a little cocky.] Are you ready?