Cyd still remembered the first time he saw her.
Even then, his gut had screamed Don't get involved. And if you do get involved—keep it brief. Clean. Contained.
So when Hermes brought up Artemis, Cyd didn't even hesitate before shaking his head. Hard.
"Nope. Not happening."
Unfortunately, Hermes didn't believe in giving people choices.
"All because they forgot to offer Artemis a sacrifice," Hermes said, lounging like this whole mess wasn't his fault. "So she, uh, tossed a boar at them in a fit of divine temper."
Cyd pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's just a boar."
"Technically, it's a juvenile boar," Hermes said, gesturing with both hands like he was describing a large housecat.
Cyd folded his arms. "Great. Then why not get someone else to deal with it? Plenty of glory-hungry meatheads on this boat."
"But Artemis asked for you specifically," Hermes said, grinning and slapping Cyd's shoulder like he'd just announced he'd won a prize. "Unlucky, huh?"
Cyd stared at him. "She punishes a nation and then hires someone else to fix it?"
"Can't have her looking soft, now can we?" Hermes chuckled. "Imagine—'Oops, my bad, everyone go home.' Nah. That'd ruin the mystique. So instead—you get to go kill the boar she accidentally unleashed. Hero work, right?"
"Pass." Cyd latched onto the nearest ship beam like a man clinging to his last shred of peace.
Hermes sighed. "Man, this whole 'can't lie to you because of my blessing' thing really comes back to bite me."
"Then tell the truth. Go ask Atalanta. She lives for hunting."
"You still don't get it." Hermes crossed his arms, his smile thinning. "You're not just in the gods' game anymore. You are the game."
Cyd frowned. "That's not comforting."
"Immortal body. Prometheus' favor. Trained by Chiron. You're already neck-deep in it, Cyd. Every trial you've passed? They weren't just flukes. They were a spotlight." Hermes nodded to the glowing green crystal on Cyd's wrist. "You've already caught Poseidon's eye. Whether you like it or not—you're one of us now."
Cyd looked down at the crystal, the faint emerald shimmer like a brand. Not just of power. Of expectation.
"And this blessing…" He tapped it. "It even stops me from lying to myself, doesn't it?"
"Bingo," Hermes said, tapping his chest. "So ask yourself. What do you really want?"
For a moment, Cyd didn't answer. He opened his mouth—then shut it again. The usual script—"normal life," "quiet days"—wouldn't come out. Not truthfully.
Hermes waited, expression unreadable.
"…I just want to be happy," Cyd finally admitted, throwing up his hands.
That was it. The one thing no prophecy ever promised a hero.
Happiness.
Cyd had spent months dodging heroes and sidestepping goddesses because, in every story, anyone tangled up with them either died, went mad, or worse—got remembered.
"Ah, there it is." Hermes grinned, clapping once. "A nice, simple dream. And trust me, you won't find happiness by running in circles. You've gotta live a little. Trip up. Fall down. Get stabbed in the leg by a pissed-off pig demon."
"Wait, what?"
Hermes extended a hand like a game show host offering a terrible prize.
"Time to go defeat the Calydonian Boar!"
Cyd stared at the hand like it was a viper. "You just said happiness doesn't come from that!"
"Right, but unhappiness definitely comes from not going," Hermes whispered, leaning in close. "She'll hold a grudge. She already is holding a grudge."
Cyd sighed. "This feels like the opposite of free will."
"Hero work, baby!" Hermes leapt off the ship like he was late for lunch.
"By the way!" Hermes' head popped back up over the railing. "Poseidon says: don't stay on this 'crappy little boat' too long!"
"I wasn't planning on it," Cyd groaned, slumping to the deck. "Why do I feel like I'm the one getting hunted?"
Elsewhere…
"You talk too much," came a cold voice.
"Yeah, yeah," Hermes said, hands behind his head as he casually sidestepped a punch aimed at his ribs.
"You're steering too close to fate," the tall redhead in full armor growled, withdrawing her fist. "The Fates once warned us: a mortal cloaked in white would become the gods' chosen hero. And you—you're giving him nudges."
"I'm not pushing," Hermes said, smiling wide. "I'm just helping him see through the fog. He still has to walk the path himself."
"You just want to see what kind of hero he becomes."
"Don't you?"
Ares—yes, the goddess version, because this pantheon had a flair for the dramatic—folded her arms, eyes glinting.
"I'm just curious," she said coolly. "Curious how someone like him thinks they'll earn my blessing."
"Of course you are." Hermes rolled his eyes. "Curiosity's a deadly thing, sis."
And when her glare sharpened, he quickly rolled away from the next punch.
"But I'll give you this," Hermes called, brushing off his helmet. "He may hesitate, he may run—but he won't quit. Not him."
Cyd still remembered the first time he saw her.
Even then, his gut had screamed Don't get involved. And if you do get involved—keep it brief. Clean. Contained.
So when Hermes brought up Artemis, Cyd didn't even hesitate before shaking his head. Hard.
"Nope. Not happening."
Unfortunately, Hermes didn't believe in giving people choices.
"All because they forgot to offer Artemis a sacrifice," Hermes said, lounging like this whole mess wasn't his fault. "So she, uh, tossed a boar at them in a fit of divine temper."
Cyd pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's just a boar."
"Technically, it's a juvenile boar," Hermes said, gesturing with both hands like he was describing a large housecat.
Cyd folded his arms. "Great. Then why not get someone else to deal with it? Plenty of glory-hungry meatheads on this boat."
"But Artemis asked for you specifically," Hermes said, grinning and slapping Cyd's shoulder like he'd just announced he'd won a prize. "Unlucky, huh?"
Cyd stared at him. "She punishes a nation and then hires someone else to fix it?"
"Can't have her looking soft, now can we?" Hermes chuckled. "Imagine—'Oops, my bad, everyone go home.' Nah. That'd ruin the mystique. So instead—you get to go kill the boar she accidentally unleashed. Hero work, right?"
"Pass." Cyd latched onto the nearest ship beam like a man clinging to his last shred of peace.
Hermes sighed. "Man, this whole 'can't lie to you because of my blessing' thing really comes back to bite me."
"Then tell the truth. Go ask Atalanta. She lives for hunting."
"You still don't get it." Hermes crossed his arms, his smile thinning. "You're not just in the gods' game anymore. You are the game."
Cyd frowned. "That's not comforting."
"Immortal body. Prometheus' favor. Trained by Chiron. You're already neck-deep in it, Cyd. Every trial you've passed? They weren't just flukes. They were a spotlight." Hermes nodded to the glowing green crystal on Cyd's wrist. "You've already caught Poseidon's eye. Whether you like it or not—you're one of us now."
Cyd looked down at the crystal, the faint emerald shimmer like a brand. Not just of power. Of expectation.
"And this blessing…" He tapped it. "It even stops me from lying to myself, doesn't it?"
"Bingo," Hermes said, tapping his chest. "So ask yourself. What do you really want?"
For a moment, Cyd didn't answer. He opened his mouth—then shut it again. The usual script—"normal life," "quiet days"—wouldn't come out. Not truthfully.
Hermes waited, expression unreadable.
"…I just want to be happy," Cyd finally admitted, throwing up his hands.
That was it. The one thing no prophecy ever promised a hero.
Happiness.
Cyd had spent months dodging heroes and sidestepping goddesses because, in every story, anyone tangled up with them either died, went mad, or worse—got remembered.
"Ah, there it is." Hermes grinned, clapping once. "A nice, simple dream. And trust me, you won't find happiness by running in circles. You've gotta live a little. Trip up. Fall down. Get stabbed in the leg by a pissed-off pig demon."
"Wait, what?"
Hermes extended a hand like a game show host offering a terrible prize.
"Time to go defeat the Calydonian Boar!"
Cyd stared at the hand like it was a viper. "You just said happiness doesn't come from that!"
"Right, but unhappiness definitely comes from not going," Hermes whispered, leaning in close. "She'll hold a grudge. She already is holding a grudge."
Cyd sighed. "This feels like the opposite of free will."
"Hero work, baby!" Hermes leapt off the ship like he was late for lunch.
"By the way!" Hermes' head popped back up over the railing. "Poseidon says: don't stay on this 'crappy little boat' too long!"
"I wasn't planning on it," Cyd groaned, slumping to the deck. "Why do I feel like I'm the one getting hunted?"
Elsewhere…
"You talk too much," came a cold voice.
"Yeah, yeah," Hermes said, hands behind his head as he casually sidestepped a punch aimed at his ribs.
"You're steering too close to fate," the tall redhead in full armor growled, withdrawing her fist. "The Fates once warned us: a mortal cloaked in white would become the gods' chosen hero. And you—you're giving him nudges."
"I'm not pushing," Hermes said, smiling wide. "I'm just helping him see through the fog. He still has to walk the path himself."
"You just want to see what kind of hero he becomes."
"Don't you?"
Ares—yes, the goddess version, because this pantheon had a flair for the dramatic—folded her arms, eyes glinting.
"I'm just curious," she said coolly. "Curious how someone like him thinks they'll earn my blessing."
"Of course you are." Hermes rolled his eyes. "Curiosity's a deadly thing, sis."
And when her glare sharpened, he quickly rolled away from the next punch.
"But I'll give you this," Hermes called, brushing off his helmet. "He may hesitate, he may run—but he won't quit. Not him."