Certainly if one knows where to look, the signs of the original Crow Club are still there. The gilded design of birds in flight along the edge of tables. The stairs that lead to private rooms tucked away from prying eyes. Only those hints of a recreated den of iniquity wherein Kaz had once built an empire with Jesper at his right hand.

A place that Kaz no longer remembers. Nothing of the god of this land remembers Ketterdam, or his loss and pain. He doesn't remember the woman he loved, or the brother whose death had shaped so much of who Kaz Brekker was.

What stands instead is a place bright with light and song, flowing with alcohol and good cheer, and celebrating life as it should be embraced.

Kaz glides through the room in shimmery shades and flowing fabrics. The smile on his face is kinder, softer than the one that many see when he's out in the streets. Here isn't about prayers and petitions, but about friendship and connection.

He offers a greeting from his place near the bar, lifting a glass in greeting. "What can I get for you?"