They are seated not at a table of emerald, but upon an ash of bone. Their goblets are filled not with wine, but with the tears of thousands of years past.
O guests, welcome to this banquet.
Here, instead of bread, burnt desires are served; and instead of delightful music, the moaning of metal and the whispers of demons crawl beneath the skin of the walls.
Every morsel from this table is a reminder of a love that betrayed, and every sip from this cup is a poison that flows through the veins and skin of truth.
This banquet has no end, for in hell there is never any time.
We sit here to celebrate for those who found paradise only in their own ruin.