Blessings from Khaos

|A Bond Between Souls Is Ancient, Older Than The Planet.|

The world spun in the shadows of light.

Hermês couldn't have told you what happened. One moment he had been flying above Dubai, making a trip to Hong Kong to deliver a package to Aeëtes when something just knocked him out of the sky. It wasn't an attack. He knew that for sure and it took him a few moments to realize what it was exactly.

Someone managed to disrupt his connection to Leaneíras.

He had turned on his feet immediately to get back to where he had last seen her, track her down, and then flay the enemy alive before flying down the Underworld to pummel the offender into paste before braving the terrain of Tartara and throwing them into the embrace of Khaeos.

It was going to hurt immensely and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.

He had only just managed to get back into the air when he was surrounded on all sides. All his siblings stared coolly back at him. Apollôn and Athênê stood side by side directly in front of him. Arês and Enyô were at his left. Hêphaistos and Dionysos at his right. Atê and Kairos raised a brow at him from behind. Aphroditê floated above him on her chariot with all the jock-heads she called kids at her side. Hēraklēs and his sons stood a little further behind Apollôn and Athênê with Britomartis.

Hermês had no time for this. They were keeping him from his beloved. He narrowed his eyes at them, shifting on his feet. All of them fell into position. Hermês had only been outran twice in his entire life. Once by Apollôn and another by Apemosyne. They could not catch him if they tried. Still, it was always funny to see them fall for his tricks. Mártha and Geōrgios hissed from around his kērū́keion as it began to glow. He smiled sharply, step back into a spin. He could hear the unspoken spell as they lurched forward: Let those who gaze upon this light. Know misery and anger. And fight, fight, fight!

Immediately, Aphroditê jumped from her chariot. Her fist slammed into Kairos' face. The younger god was sent flying. Arês and Enyô threw themselves at Alexiárēs and Aníkētos. Hermês flew above them as Apollôn and Athênê met each other blow for blow. Dionysos and Hêphaistos teamed up against Hēraklēs while Harmonia threw herself at Atê. Antérōs and Himeros fought against their own brothers, Deimos and Phoibos while Erôs shot arrows of pure lead at those that neared his parents and siblings.

He took a moment to grab his own sons, Hermaphroditos and Hēdylógos, and send them home before he carried on. Did they believe that they could capture him? Him, the god of tricks and trickeries. Him, the god of craft. He, the cheat. He, the god stealth. He was the known to words of man as the most cunning, the treacherous, and the schemer. He was the Prince of Robbers, a named bestow upon him by Apollôn himself. He could not be captured.  Even when Artemis tied him up the previous year, he could have and would have escaped if not for Apollôn's immediate distraction in the form of Leaneíras. And while they were distracted, he took flight once more, racing to his beloved's side, knowing that the others would not be able to catch him once the spell wore off.

Hermês was the deified trickster. His worship known and found across the lands. HA! He would cast every spell and pull every trick that he could if it meant getting to her. She needed him. He knew that she did.

And yet, seconds that seemed like hours had passed when he found himself being pulled from the air and thrusted into the back seat of Apollôn's car. His elder brother had a fading bruise on his right cheek and a scar around his head like a wreath that was already healing. Apollôn gave him a nasty glare as the car flew on auto-pilot. He and Huákinthos set about washing the blood out of his hair. "Was that really necessary, Kyllenios?"

"How did you break the spell," he asked instead. He could escape; his brother knew that the car could not hold him even if the child locks were on, but Apollôn was heading in the direction of Maine so he might as well get comfortable.