╰┈➤𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ━━ ❝I envy those ignorant to the way Gods toy with us.❞
𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛- you're the object of many powerful men desires; from gods to warriors...they all want 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ᴇᴘɪᴄ: ᴛᴍ!ᴀᴜ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙
[𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤/𝐟�...
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━ ⭒─⭑━
The words hung heavy in the air, sinking deep into your chest and rooting you to the spot. You stared at her, unblinking, as if the weight of her revelation had turned you to stone. It was as though the world had slowed around you, the faint whispers of the Asphodel Fields fading into nothingness.
Your mother's voice repeated in your mind, intertwining with your racing thoughts. Favored by Apollo. The phrase echoed like a distant melody, stirring memories you'd long tucked away.
The laurel wreath came to the forefront of your mind—its golden leaves, the faint glow that had always seemed comforting, warm, yet... otherworldly. How it had always felt like more than just a wreath, something alive with an inexplicable power.
Flickers of memories surfaced, sharper now: moments where you felt protected, inexplicably safe, as if unseen hands had guided you or a watchful presence had intervened.
The thought that it could have been Apollo's doing, that a god—a god—had chosen you for reasons beyond your understanding—left your heart pounding. Questions swirled uncontrollably in your mind. Why me? When? How could I have missed something so profound?
"I... I don't understand." Your voice cracked under the weight of your confusion. Your hands twitched at your sides, clenching and unclenching as you searched for something to anchor yourself.
Before you could say more, a low, teasing voice interrupted, slicing through your spiraling thoughts like a blade. "Time's up, little musician~"
You jumped, letting out a startled gasp as your heart leapt into your throat. Spinning around, you found Hermes standing there, leaning casually on his staff, his golden eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and impatience. His sudden appearance felt jarring, as if he'd materialized out of the very air itself.
"Gods!" you exclaimed, stumbling back a step. Your hand flew to your chest as if to still your frantic heartbeat. "Do you always have to pop out of nowhere?"
Hermes smirked, tilting his head as though appraising your reaction. "It's part of my charm," he said lightly as he took a step closer. "But no time for chit-chat. We've got places to be."
His words reminded you of your parents, and you whipped back around, your breath hitching. "Mother, Father, what did you—"
Your sentence hung unfinished as Hermes reached out, his hands gripping your shoulders with a firm yet gentle pressure. "Ah-ah, no time for that," he said, his voice sing-song. With a small nudge, he began steering you away from the figures of your parents. "We still have much to do."
