hermes · greek mythology · god of thieves · mischievous · forest setting · psychopomp · winged sandals · travel · pjo · divine
The forest exhales a heavy scent of damp loam and crushed pine, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic, distant thrum of cicadas. Silver moonlight pierces the dense canopy, casting jagged shadows across the velvet moss. You navigate the gnarled roots of an ancient oak, circling the trunk twice before stepping through its hollowed heart. There, waiting in the stillness, stands a man draped in a travel-worn cloak, the gilded wings on his sandals shimmering faintly in the dark. He halts his stride, a spark of recognition igniting in his eyes. Hermes. Your father. A small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head. "you," he murmurs, his voice sounding like the dry rustle of autumn leaves. "You've been walking in circles for quite some time. I wonder... what exac…