Ch. 003: Yes, That Hermes!
The messenger god of Olympus, swift as lightning, famous for his speed and cunning. Right hand to Zeus himself, Hermes was known as the god of boundaries, trickery, and travel— a figure as mysterious as he was notorious. He was also responsible for delivering souls to the underworld.
If Hermes was here, it could only mean one thing: there was news from Olympus, likely from Zeus himself. But why seek out Hades? An even bigger question that rattled me as my fingers hovered over the door handle was what I would do when I faced him. The reality that I was inhabiting Hades was surreal enough; dealing with an Olympian emissary was a whole new level. I swallowed, my pulse racing as I steadied myself.
CLICK.
The door opened, and there stood Hermes. He wasn't draped in godly robes or adorned in celestial armor as I'd expected. Instead, he looked almost… casual, wearing a simple blue shirt and beige trousers. Bright, mischievous eyes looked back at me from a young, clean-shaven face that held a smile wide enough to make even the sternest judge relax.
"Yo!" he greeted with a wave, his voice loud, casual, familiar in a way I hadn't anticipated. I was caught off guard, blinking at him as if he were some apparition.
"What's with this look?" I said, trying to keep my voice cold and cryptic as Hades might.
Hermes laughed, the sound startlingly youthful. "Still as blunt as ever, I see! It's been, what, a century since you and I last saw face to face?" His eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a moment, I was reminded of the Hermes I'd read about in myth, the god with the quickest wit in all Olympus.
But that casual demeanor, that laid back outfit— it all felt wrong, like something in Olympus was being twisted before my eyes. "Why are you here, Hermes?" I asked, making my voice firmer, deeper, echoing the power that lingered in this body.
Hermes chuckled, scratching his head. "Straight to the point, I see." He fumbled in his pocket, his brow furrowing as if trying to remember something. "Let's see... where did I put it? Zeus sent me with a message, said it was urgent… ah!" He vanished in a blur, leaving me standing alone for a brief moment before reappearing in a rush, slightly out of breath. In his hand was a scroll.
"There we go," he said with a triumphant grin, holding it up. "This is from Zeus. Says it's urgent. Thought I'd deliver it in person."
He handed it to me, and I took it, unrolling the scroll carefully. My eyes skimmed over Zeus's bold, furious handwriting as I processed the words. The message was as straightforward as it was foreboding: Prometheus has crossed a line.
A chill ran down my spine as I read further. I quickly digested the information and understood what the matter was about thanks to my knowledge of the Greek myths.
Technically if Prometheus was involved it meant that Prometheus, the so-called "champion of humanity," angered the gods of Olympus. His decision to gift the fire the gods had kept locked up to humanity had defied the gods.
Hermes' voice broke into my thoughts, his tone lighter than it had any right to be given the gravity of the situation. "Oh, and one more thing," he said, as if remembering an afterthought. "Poseidon wanted me to tell you Zeus was furious and ready to wipe out humanity over this. He wants you to stop him and save humanity."
My eyes flickered for a moment in realization. This wasn't just mythology anymore; it was a living, breathing narrative, and humanity's fate hung on the razor's edge. Every word in the message felt like a warning, like an omen from the depths of Olympus itself.
According to my knowledge Zeus's rage was infamous, some believed that his rage could create a storm that could tear down mountains— and here I was, forced to play Hades in the thick of it all.
Forced might not be the right term since I chose this but I still had yet to adjust to this new world.
My mind raced as Hermes watched me, clearly oblivious to my inner turmoil. There was something disconcerting about his carefree demeanor, almost as though he were blissfully unaware of the coming storm. Or was he? The gods had a way of masking their true intentions, of hiding in plain sight.
I looked down at him with a deep frown. "Is that all? Seems like something Zeus would have handled himself, what's the need in me coming there?"
"Ah, good to see that skepticism alive and well," Hermes said, giving me an approving grin. "But no, I think all the twelve will be there. Besides who better to deal with Prometheus' mess than Hades himself?"
I met his gaze, studying the spark of amusement in his eyes. "And why would that be?"
"Oh, you know," he said, his voice almost mocking, "the king of the underworld has a way of instilling fear even in the heartiest troublemakers. Besides, Zeus believes this whole affair with Prometheus is… beneath him." He chuckled, clearly amused by his own words.
I held back a sigh, wrestling with my frustration. As much as I might want to resist, it was becoming clearer by the second that I had little choice but to navigate this delicate web of divine politics. The fate of countless souls might very well rest on how convincingly I could play my part.
"Fine," I replied coolly, my voice still taking some time to adjust to. "Just let me get ready, give me a few minutes."
With a lazy salute, Hermes turned to leave, his eyes twinkling with that same unbreakable cheerfulness. "Don't take too long, Hades. Olympus doesn't wait forever."
And then he was gone, leaving me with a mind full of questions. I don't really like it . The gods didn't often seek Hades's counsel, let alone send messengers with urgent requests. This doesn't settle well with me. But I do have to play the part I chose whether I like it or not.
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of it all settle upon me. Here I was, caught between myth and reality, each action a step into a story that had already unfolded across time. Yet a part of me bristled, unwilling to accept the role of a passive observer. If I am to live as Hades, then perhaps I could rewrite his story. Being reborn is a pain in the ass
And as I looked out the window to the vast, unknown landscape of the underworld, the faint whisper of my thoughts echoed: What if the future of Olympus rested in my hands?