#etl

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Godly Things | Chapter 15 Chapter 15 | veiled depths⌟

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You felt weightless yet grounded, like being suspended in a void where gravity had no say. The air, or lack thereof, pressed against your skin, cool and dense, as though it wanted to seep into your pores.

Your body felt untethered, disoriented, as if the world had folded itself inside out.

Everything was dark—so dark that you couldn't even see the outline of your own hand. There was no sound, no wind, no sensation of movement—only the overwhelming stillness that pressed in from every direction.

A low chuckle brushed past your ear, the sound warm and teasing. "It's safe to open your eyes, little musician..."

The voice jolted you, and for a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to see what lay beyond this suffocating darkness. Slowly, you creaked your eyes open, half expecting the void to remain.

At first, there was nothing but inky blackness, but gradually, faint shapes began to emerge. The outlines of towering, jagged stone arches loomed overhead, their surfaces shimmering faintly with an otherworldly glow.

The ground beneath your feet was cold and rough, uneven with patches of smooth obsidian-like rock that reflected dim light.

You inhaled sharply. The air tasted heavy, like iron and ash, and it clung to your throat, making it harder to breathe. A strange stillness blanketed the area, the kind that made every sound feel intrusive.

Hermes' voice broke the silence again, light and conversational as though he were simply giving a tour. "Welcome to the gate of the Underworld," he said, gesturing broadly with his arm. "Lovely, isn't it? Hades certainly has a flair for drama."

You turned to face him, your movements sluggish as if the air itself were resisting. He stood just a few steps ahead, his crimson cloak flowing unnaturally, untouched by any wind. His golden eyes gleamed in the dim light, his expression a mix of amusement and intrigue.

"Where...?" you began, your voice cracking as you took in your surroundings.

Hermes grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. "We're right on the threshold between worlds. See that?" He turned you gently by the shoulders, pointing behind you.

You followed his gesture, your breath catching in your throat. A narrow tunnel stretched far into the distance, its rough, dark walls illuminated by a faint golden light at its end. The glow pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, steady and warm.

"That," Hermes said, his tone dropping into something almost reverent, "is the mortal realm. A cozy little exit for souls who've earned their place back among the living... or for visitors like us to remember where we came from."

Your gaze lingered on the light, the warmth of it stirring an ache deep in your chest. It felt distant, unreachable, and yet part of you longed to step toward it, to bask in its glow.

"But," Hermes continued, stepping in front of you and blocking your view, "we're not here to dwell on that, are we?" He gestured toward the opposite direction, where the tunnel opened into an expansive void. "There's much more to see."

As your eyes adjusted to the dimness, you noticed movement in the distance. A vast river stretched out before you, its surface dark and sluggish, like molten ink. Thick mist curled over the water, obscuring parts of it from view.

And then... you saw him.

A hunched figure stood atop a small, rickety ferry in the middle of the river. His silhouette was skeletal, his robe tattered and blending with the shadows. Even from a distance, you could see how still he was, his hooded head tilted in your direction.

It felt like he was staring at you.

A chill ran down your spine, and you took an involuntary step closer to Hermes. The ferryman's presence was oppressive, his stillness more unnerving than any movement could have been.

"Who... who is that?" you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away.

Hermes followed your line of sight, his golden eyes narrowing briefly before a smirk tugged at his lips. "Ah, Charon?" he said, his tone casual, as if speaking of an old acquaintance. "The ferryman of the dead. Bit of a grump, but reliable as they come. He's not much for conversation, but he gets the job done."

Your gaze lingered on the figure, still as stone, his shadowy form blending with the swirling mists over the river. The hollowed hood of his robe made it impossible to see his face, but you swore you felt his attention settle on you, sharp and unyielding. It felt like the chill of winter air slicing through your skin.

You shivered, clutching your arms instinctively. "Do we... have to use the boat?"

Hermes turned to you, his grin widening mischievously as he clasped his hands behind his back. "What? And miss the chance to see Charon in all his gloomy glory?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Just kidding. Of course not. We have a VIP pass, remember?"

Your brows furrowed. "VIP pass? What's tha—"

Before you could finish, Hermes swooped down and picked you up, his arms curling securely under your legs and back. "Hold on tight, little musician!" he warned, his golden eyes sparkling with glee.

"Wait, what are you—AHH!" Your protest turned into a screech as Hermes kicked off the ground, the wings on his sandals beating furiously as you shot into the air.

Your screams echoed through the void as wind whipped past you, cold and sharp against your skin, while Hermes' laughter rang out like a bell.

You clung to him tighter, your heart pounding as you soared higher, the world beneath you shrinking into a dark, endless abyss. The river stretched below like a yawning chasm, its surface rippling with faint, ghostly lights.

The air was thick and cool, carrying faint echoes—mournful whispers that sent shivers racing down your spine.

You forced your gaze downward, the landscape shifting beneath you, dark and mythical. Jagged rocks jutted out like broken teeth, and faint, flickering spectral lights danced in the shadows, their movements slow and deliberate, like they were watching.

In the distance, you caught glimpses of strange, dreamlike objects—fragments of clocks, shattered mirrors, and what looked like broken chairs floating just above the river's surface. They swayed gently, as if tethered to invisible strings, their presence a haunting reminder of the lives left behind.

Hermes dipped lower, hovering just above the river. The mist curled around his feet and yours, tendrils of it reaching upward as if trying to pull you in. Shadows moved beneath the surface, amorphous and massive, their outlines distorted yet undeniably real.

"W-What... what's in the water?" you stammered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rushing wind.

"Regrets," Hermes replied simply, his tone uncharacteristically sober. "Broken promises. Forgotten dreams. Everything people left unresolved in life."

You stared down at the dark waters, your breath hitching as one of the shadows slithered closer to the surface before disappearing again.

"Lovely, isn't it?" Hermes teased, though his voice held a faint edge.

"Not the word I'd use," you muttered, clutching him tighter.

With a laugh, Hermes straightened his course, carrying you past the mist and the river until solid ground reappeared beneath you. He landed lightly, setting you down as though the flight had been nothing more than a leisurely stroll.

You stumbled, your legs shaky, and glared at him. "Warn me next time!" you hissed, the words escaping without thought.

"But where's the fun in that?" Hermes shot back, his grin wide and unapologetic. "Now, come along. The tour's just begun."

You hesitated, glancing back toward the river, its surface still rippling with faint light and shadow. The figure of Charon remained in the distance, unmoving, as though waiting for his next passenger.

Hermes gestured ahead, his crimson cloak sweeping dramatically. "Welcome to the Underworld," he said, his voice dripping with theatrical flair. "Allow me to show you the highlights."

You followed him warily, your senses on high alert as the landscape unfolded around you. The darkness seemed to ebb and flow, shifting like a living thing, revealing glimpses of otherworldly sights that made your breath catch in your throat.

To your left, faint golden light shimmered through the murky air, illuminating a distant expanse of rolling fields.

They stretched endlessly, dotted with trees whose leaves sparkled as if dusted with starlight. Figures wandered through the fields, their movements slow and deliberate, their forms bathed in the gentle glow of the light.

Hermes stopped, gesturing grandly toward the scene. "Behold," he said, his tone lighter but tinged with something softer, "Elysium. The final reward for the virtuous, the brave, the wise. Heroes and poets, philosophers and dreamers... they all find their peace here."

You squinted, trying to make out the figures in the distance. Their faces were too far away to discern, but something about their serene movements tugged at your heart. The fields themselves seemed alive, the golden grass swaying as though in time with an unheard melody.

"It's beautiful."

Hermes nodded, his expression uncharacteristically calm. "It is," he said simply, his voice quieter.

You stared a moment longer, drawn to the sense of peace that radiated from the fields. But before you could ask more, Hermes suddenly grabbed your wrist. "C'mon. Let's check it out. I mean, when are you going to get a chance like this again?"

You hesitated, your wide eyes flitting toward the fields. "I-I don't think I—"

"No time for hesitation, little musician," Hermes interrupted, tugging you forward. His golden eyes sparkled with mischief as he added in a teasing tone, "Besides, you're with me. I've got pull."

You stumbled slightly as he led you closer, your heart pounding as the golden light grew brighter, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The air in Elysium felt different—lighter, sweeter.

Each breath you took was tinged with a faint floral scent, and the gentle rustling of the grass seemed to hum with a quiet, melodic rhythm.

As you walked, your gaze was drawn to the figures in the distance. They moved gracefully, their forms glowing faintly under the golden light. Some sat beneath the sparkling trees, their heads bowed in quiet conversation, while others walked hand in hand, their expressions peaceful and content.

Your steps faltered as you caught sight of a small gathering near one of the larger trees. Among them was a figure that stood out—a tall man with a proud posture, his golden hair catching the light like a flame. His armor gleamed as though freshly polished, and the faintest smile played on his lips as he spoke with the others.

Your breath hitched, your voice trembling as you whispered, "Is... is that Achilles?"

Hermes chuckled softly, following your gaze. "The one and only," he said, a hint of pride in his voice. "Not a bad spot for a legendary hero to spend eternity, huh?"

You couldn't tear your eyes away, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. The realization that you were standing in the same realm as figures who had lived and died in stories you'd only ever heard whispered around fires left you speechless.

"I can't believe it," you murmured, more to yourself than to Hermes.

"Believe it," he said, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze before tugging you forward again. "But don't stare too long. The last thing I need is for you to get starstruck and embarrass me in front of the legends."

A small laugh escaped you despite the overwhelming awe still coursing through your veins. "I thought gods didn't get embarrassed."

"Only when mortals make it impossible not to," he quipped, his smirk returning as he guided you further along the edge of the fields.

The golden light of Elysium began to fade behind you, replaced by the harsher tones of the Underworld's other regions. The smooth, glowing stones beneath your feet gave way to uneven, jagged terrain, and the air grew warmer, heavier, and thick with a faint, acrid smell that stung your nose.

Ahead, a deep chasm split the ground, its jagged edges glowing with an orange-red light that pulsed like the slow, rhythmic beat of a heart. From its depths came faint, echoing screams—high-pitched and mournful, carried on a hot, unnatural wind.

You stopped in your tracks, your stomach twisting at the sight. "What... what is that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hermes glanced back at you, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he stepped closer, his arm curling around your waist as he lifted you effortlessly into the air.

"Hold tight," he murmured, his tone softer now.

You clung to him instinctively as he hovered near the edge of the chasm. The heat rising from below was stifling, and the glow of the firelight cast eerie shadows on his face.

"That," Hermes said, his voice low, "is Tartarus. A place for the worst of the worst—traitors, tyrants, those who defied the gods. And, of course, the Titans." His golden eyes flicked down toward the chasm, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Think of it as the parallel to Elysium... but not the good kind."

You shuddered, staring into the depths. The screams grew louder, mingling with the crackle of unseen flames and the faint sound of chains rattling. Shadowy figures writhed far below, their forms indistinct but their agony palpable.

Hermes' expression softened, and he lowered you gently back to the ground, his arm lingering for a moment as though to steady you. "Not a place you'd want to visit," he added lightly, his smirk returning.

You turned to look at him, your voice hesitant. "Do you... go down there often?"

His gaze lingered on the chasm for a moment longer before he shrugged. "When I have to"" he said, his tone casual but with a weight beneath it. "Sometimes I'm the one escorting souls who've earned their place there. Other times..." He trailed off, his smirk faltering. "Let's just say... it's not my favorite part of the job."

You swallowed hard, your gaze drifting back to the chasm. "It's horrible," you murmured.

Hermes nodded as he began flying away, his expression solemn. "It is. But it's necessary."

As the chasm faded into the distance, the air around you seemed to shift again, growing lighter and cooler. Hermes' tone brightened, his playful grin returning as he gestured toward the winding paths ahead.

"Of course, my duties aren't all doom and gloom," he said, his voice taking on a mischievous lilt. "I'm not just a glorified escort, you know. I deliver messages between the gods and Hades, mediate the occasional argument among the dead, and keep this whole place running smoothly."

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. "Did you just say, 'argument among the dead' as in arguing souls?"

Hermes chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, you'd be surprised. Some people don't let go of grudges, even in death. Sometimes it's a stolen goat. Other times, it's an epic feud spanning generations. Keeps things interesting down here."

You couldn't help but smile faintly, his lightheartedness cutting through the heaviness of the journey.

"Then there are the gods," he continued, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Hades can be a bit... particular, but he's nothing compared to some of the others. You should hear Demeter's complaints about Persephone being here half the year."

He chuckled to himself, his voice carrying through the still air like the faintest echo. "Honestly, if I had a drachma for every time she's accused Hades of keeping her daughter longer than he should... " He glanced over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, let's just say I'd be richer than Apollo."

You smiled faintly, though your mind was still trying to process the enormity of everything around you. The shifting landscapes of the Underworld had left you in awe and unease, the weight of the souls and their endless journeys pressing down like an unseen force.

Hermes slowed his pace, his golden eyes scanning the horizon as the terrain began to shift again. The jagged rocks and harsh glow of Tartarus faded into the background, replaced by a muted grey expanse. The ground grew softer, coated in a fine layer of ash-like dust that swirled faintly with each step.

The air grew heavier, cool and damp; the faint sound of whispers brushing against your ears, though you couldn't make out any words.

"This," Hermes said, his voice softer now, "is the Asphodel Fields."

Your breath hitched as the scene unfolded before you. An endless plain stretched as far as your eyes could see,  its surface a monotone sea of grey and silver. Low-lying mists clung to the ground, weaving through the field like restless spirits.

The souls of the dead wandered aimlessly, their forms translucent and faintly glowing. They drifted through the haze, their movements slow and mechanical, like they were caught in a dream they could neither leave nor wake from.

Their faces were devoid of expressions, betraying no emotion—neither joy nor sorrow—only a blank, unending neutrality, their steps light as though they floated just above the ground.

"These are the ones who led ordinary lives," Hermes explained, his tone carrying a rare note of reverence. "Neither wicked enough for Tartarus nor virtuous enough for Elysium. They exist here in... well, let's call it neutral peace."

You stared, the weight of the sight pressing against your chest. The souls didn't seem to notice you or Hermes. They floated past like shadows, silent and disconnected, their figures blurring slightly as they moved through the thick, misty air; each lost in their own timeless wandering.

"It's seems kind of..." You searched for the right word, your voice trailing off as you watched a soul pause mid-step before resuming its slow journey. "Lonely."

Hermes nodded, his expression uncharacteristically somber. "It can be. But not everyone here sees it that way." He gestured toward a small cluster of souls in the distance, their movements slower, more deliberate.

Through the mist, you caught faint glimpses of them. They stood closer together than the others, their translucent forms almost touching. One figure reached out, its hand brushing against the faint outline of another. Though no words were spoken, their presence beside one another seemed less aimless, almost comforting.

"Some find solace in the stillness. For others... well, they just fade."

Your stomach churned at his words. "Fade?"

Hermes glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint, sad smile. "When they forget themselves. Memories blur, identities unravel. Without purpose or remembrance, what's left to keep them tethered?"

A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes were drawn to a nearby soul drifting past within arm's reach. It was a woman, her movements slow and deliberate. Her face was faint, almost featureless, and her translucent form shimmered weakly, as though she were barely holding onto her shape.

She paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly, as if sensing your presence. A faint chill brushed against your skin, and you swore you heard the barest hint of a sigh before she continued on her way.

"Does she..." Your voice faltered as you glanced at Hermes. "Does she know we're here?"

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, though his gaze lingered on the soul. "Or maybe she's just remembering something that feels like us. Hard to tell in this place."

As you walked, Hermes occasionally gestured to things in the distance—an ancient tree with gnarled, leafless branches standing alone in the field, its roots half-buried in the ashen ground; a crumbled, forgotten structure with faint carvings etched into its stone, eroded by time.

"That used to be something important," Hermes mused as he pointed to the ruins. "A shrine, maybe. Hard to say now. Even here, traditions fade."

You nodded silently, your eyes tracing the outlines of the structure. The carvings were barely legible, but they seemed to tell a story—fragments of lives long gone.

At one point, Hermes stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on a small patch of flowers growing near the base of a mound. The flowers were pale and delicate, their petals faintly luminescent, as if they glowed from within.

"Ghost blooms," Hermes said, crouching down to pluck one gently. He held it up, the petals trembling slightly in his grasp. "They only grow where a soul's memory was strong enough to leave something behind."

You reached out hesitantly, brushing your fingers against the flower. It was cool to the touch, its glow dimming slightly under your skin. "It's beautiful," you whispered.

Hermes nodded, standing and letting the flower drift to the ground. "A reminder," he said, his voice softer now. After a moment, he stepped forward, his cloak sweeping across the dusty ground as he strolled ahead.

You followed him hesitantly, your steps slow and uncertain. The field stretched on endlessly, the grey expanse blending seamlessly with the horizon. The air felt heavier here, the silence oppressive, broken only by the faint whispers of the wandering souls.

Hermes came to a stop in the middle of the field, his golden eyes softening as he turned to you. "This is where I leave you for a bit," he said, his voice quiet but firm.

You frowned, glancing around the empty expanse. "What do you mean?"

His lips curled into a faint smile, and he gestured gently ahead. "Walk," he said simply, his tone holding a strange mixture of encouragement and mystery.

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you looked at him questioningly. But his smile remained steady, and after a moment, you took a slow step forward.

The ground beneath your feet crunched softly, the ash-like dust stirring with every step. The air felt cooler now, the faint whispers growing quieter, almost expectant.

And then, you saw them.

Two figures emerged from the mist, their forms faint and glowing like the other souls. But as they drew closer, their features sharpened, becoming more defined, more familiar. Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, your heart hammering in your chest.

The man stepped forward first, his broad shoulders and gentle smile exactly as you remembered. His blond hair, slightly disheveled, caught the faint glow of the mist, framing his strong yet kind face. His brown eyes, warm and full of love, locked onto yours, shimmering with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

Beside him, the woman followed, her movements graceful and full of purpose. Her dark hair was swept back in a familiar, simple style, the faintest glow catching the curve of her cheekbones. Her sepia skin radiated a warmth that felt like home, and her eyes—wide, filled with tears—were fixed on you as though you were the most precious thing in existence.

A sob tore from your throat before you could stop it. "Mother?... Father?"

Your mother gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as tears streamed freely down her face. "My sweet dove," she choked out, her voice trembling.

She rushed forward, her arms wrapping tightly around you, and for a moment, you couldn't breathe. Her touch, warm and firm, enveloped you like a shield against the weight of everything you'd endured.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, her hands cupping your face as she pulled back just enough to look at you. Her thumbs brushed against your cheeks, wiping away tears you hadn't realized were falling.

Your father joined her, his strong arms pulling you into his chest. He buried his face into your hair, pressing kiss after kiss to the crown of your head. "My little one," he murmured, his voice breaking with every word. "You've grown so much. Look at you... so strong, so brave."

You clung to both of them, your fingers digging into their clothes, as though letting go might make them disappear. The sensation of their presence—the warmth, the familiarity—was overwhelming, and you couldn't stop the tears that fell freely now.

"How..." Your voice trembled, barely a whisper as you tried to make sense of the impossible. "How are you here? How is this real?"

They pulled back slightly, just enough to see your face, their hands never leaving your arms as if they too were afraid you might vanish.

Your mother's lips quivered as she gazed at you, her tears falling even as she smiled. "We've missed you so much," she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. "Every single day, we've thought of you, prayed for you."

Your father nodded, his own tears glistening as he cupped the back of your head. "We've watched over you, little one. And now... now, we can finally hold you again."

The weight of their words hit you like a tidal wave, and memories you had tried to bury came flooding back. The way they had laughed with you, taught you, held you in the moments when the world felt too big. And then, the sickness. The quiet moments by their bedside, the laurel wreath clutched tightly in your hands as you prayed for a miracle.

"B-But..." you stammered, your voice cracking as flashes of those final days pierced through the haze of joy. "You were... you were gone. I held the laurel, but I couldn't... I couldn't save you."

Your mother's expression softened, and she pulled you into another embrace, her arms wrapping around you tightly. "Shh, love," she murmured, her hand stroking your hair as she held you close. "It wasn't your fault. We were ready to let go, knowing you'd be safe."

Your father's hand rested gently on your back, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in the chaos of your swirling emotions. "We were never afraid for you," he said softly, his words laden with both sorrow and relief. "Not even at the end. We knew... we knew Apollo would protect you."

The mention of Apollo made you pull back slightly, your brows knitting together in confusion. "Apollo would protect me?" you repeated, your voice laced with uncertainty. "I don't understand. Why would Apollo protect me?"

Your parents exchanged a glance, their expressions shifting into something softer, almost hesitant.

Your mother spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper. "Love... don't you remember?"

You shook your head, the motion slow and uncertain. "Remember what?"

Her eyes searched yours, her lips parting as she whispered, "You're favored by Apollo."

A/N: and the plot thickens~ haha see! i been reading/listening to you guys, i didn't forget about mc coincidentally never bringing up/recalling her favor but let me hursh before i spoil/mess things up... also, ive seen/read your compliants on telemachus and all i can say is he better tighten up before hermes take over lolol, but seriously, i know it's going slow, but it won't feel right if i don't give the other love interests enough time to wiggle their way into mc's heart, 'ya know???

Tag List: thesimppotato11 alassal jackintheboxs-world uniquetravelerone

[uxia15]

I’m going insane because of these two

[nona-gay-simus]

How to Write Enemies to Lovers Correctly:

Wrong ❌: "I hate him but omgggg look at his abs!!"

Right ✅: "Pathetic, Griddle. I got more hot and bothered digging all night."

[izachin]

OSHA X QIMIR PTV #TheAcolyte #StarWars #RenewTheAcolyte #Qimir #thestranger #osha #oshamir #oshamirfanart #starwarstheacolyte #disney #etl #enemiestolovers #art #procreate

[aidelon]

My 10 years old self found out what disappointment was when Katara didn't kiss Zuko😃👍🏻

My ig: @/Aide.lon

[marimosalad]

Revealing my Season 2 Haladriel secret art after episode 6 seemed very appropriate. Enjoy ❤️‍🔥

You can buy prints here

[darkkittyart]

“Doesn’t feel good, does it? Being treated like a monster...” 🔪🩸

( A little work in progress. I wanted to explore Mae getting free from her restraints and in turn trapping Sol. The repressed emotions on both sides… The tension… god the TENSION. 🫠✨)

[chibireylo]

With a kiss, the arranged marriage of the Princess of Exegol and the Prince of Chandrila became official.

At long last, the feuding kingdoms would finally know peace-- if only Kylo & Rey weren't tasked to kill one another.

[pursuitseternal]

“Love Me or Hate Me” update, the Act 1 Romance retold for enemies🩸🗡️

Astarion x Tav (Katja) | Explicit | 3.9 K

Summary: A tryst in the moonlight, a truce negotiated.

CW: manipulative Astarion, scary monster Astarion, mild mild name calling degradation, first bite alt, act 1 romance alt, vaginal fingering, blood loss aftercare, Katja’s backstory begins

Previous Ch | ao3 link | Masterlist

Ch. 2: “Little Treat”

Despite the calm the wine gave her heart, Katja’s head was clear. Clear, and focused on confronting the monster that had sunk his claws into her.

Sunk his cock, more like.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on her path and ignoring the way her back felt naked without her axe. It made her unnerved and unsettled, same way he did.

Her booted feet entered the clearing, empty save the starlight, quiet save her own increasingly ragged breathing. “Alright, you fucker,” she called, singsong and mocking, “I’ve come to discuss our truce.”

Nothing. Only a slight breeze made the leaves rustle as it moved the humid summer air.

Fuck.

Had he left? Unlikely. Not the vampire’s way to let go of an advantage once pressed. Lying in wait somewhere, waiting to have her?

Definitely.

Rolling her shoulders, Katja slunk deeper into the glade, her eyes scanning every shadow for crimson and white—flashes of his eyes or his fangs. This was a huge mistake, she groaned. She shouldn’t have left her axe, coming nearly defenseless to meet him, not when every nail and fang and muscle in his taut body was a weapon by itself. The scar on her cheek stung, a painless reminder of the great pain that could come should she ever underestimate a monster again.

Swiftly, she hurried back to the treeline, sneaking a small dagger from the top of her boot. The enamel of her sgian-dubh graced her with a quick comfort the second her palm enclosed around it. She stalked from tree to tree, careful of the deepest shadows, knowing the wind was carrying her scent.

Even though he probably scented her already. Too late and too dangerous.

She heard him before she saw him. A shallow creaking breath behind her right ear to make her round. Buried in the shadows she just passed, his face sunk into the gloom, eyelids closed to hide his unnatural eyes.

Eyes that flashed open the moment she noticed him.

One quick second to react, her dagger flew for his chest, sure in its aim and deadly in precision. But it wasn’t enough, not as ice cold fingers ensnared her wrist and so effortlessly deflected the blow. A creaking death rattle, he inhaled after denying his lungs of air as he waited. The noise made her shiver, a bone chilling distraction as he sped them both into the moonlight, slamming her back against a tree.

“There you are,” he crooned. “I’ve been waiting…” His other hand carefully pried her dagger away, letting it fall carelessly at their feet. “Let’s talk terms, little brat, rather than just jumping to blades immediately, hmm?”

“You’ve wanted to kill me since the moment you saw me,” Katja hissed, thrashing and fuming, his sinewy strength caging her frame to lock her beneath him. Identical to just hours ago. Fuck, how could she be so stupid again.

“No, when I first saw you, I figured you for a feisty little thing. I saw a tasty morsel. I saw a strong warrior, someone who might have been willing to ensure my strength by lending just a little of her blood.” His laugh was low in his throat and dangerous. “Then I found out you were Gur. A monster hunter one to boot. That’s when I wanted to kill you, darling.”

“Then why haven’t you? Missing your balls?” she kneed him in the groin, hard enough to make a man fold in two. For him, he just let out a breath and growled closer in her face.

“Oh, I think you know my balls are in perfect working order, brat,” he snarled, hips pressing against her belly as a nice little souvenir to their earlier tryst. He quirked a brow, running a finger up the side of her neck with chilling, featherlight touches. “Maybe I just like to play with my food…”

“I’d rather fuck you again,” Katja hissed. jutting her chin up at him, a picture of eager defiance.

“Oh I have little doubt of that. A pity sex isn’t on our list of topics to discuss in our little truce.” His grin spread across his face, wider by the second, as his jaw dropped. “Oh no, your idiocy cost me safety and access to blood to keep me strong and well fed. You’re going to provide both for me.”

“Why?” she asked blatantly, her chest heaving with every breath beneath her cream-colored shirt. “Because you’ll kill me? Or you’ll torture me?”

Astarion’s eyes hardened. “As fitting a circle of revenge it would be to end you, child of the Gur, it’ll be far more… entertaining for me to make you help me.”

“Why would I help you?”

“Because for once, having a monster hunter on my side might just prove useful to me. To us. We can be mutually beneficial. His gaze raked down her body, “You’ve come of age in your tribe, clearly, and yet you do not bear the mark of a hunter yet. You’re eager, still trying to prove your worth to your gods and your elders….” He fought the need to roll his eyes. “If you ensure my strength and safety, if you feed me and protect me, I’ll let you help me defeat the most powerful Vampire Lord on the Sword Coast, my old master, Cazador Szarr.”

The way he spat that name even made her heart quicken with the same mix of fear and loathing that so clearly painted his sharp and pale face.

“If you don’t kill me, you’ll have my help taking down a monster far, far worse than me. And in due time….” He grabbed her hand from his chest, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing the fragile bones and veins of her inner wrist, “you’ll earn yourself a trophy worth being named lead hunter of your tribe, someone worth killing far more than my weak and humble self.” His crimson eyes flashed dangerously, the very mention of his end at her hand seeming to make him laugh. “So, let’s put that out of our cute, little empty head, hmm?”

Katja’s mind spun, hazy from wine and the forbidden heat between her thighs.

“What’s in it for you?” she hissed, glaring as he pressed his thick lips in a kiss atop those pale blue wrist veins.

Eyes flashing, he smirked, keeping his attention on that thin skin of her arm. “Freedom, a chance for vengeance against him… and a chance to take advantage of your people’s headstrong barbarity,” he paused long enough to catch the look on her face. Disgust, arousal, anger, and intrigue. “All I require is your blade at my service and the small matter of your blood for my strength.”

Those treacherous lips kissed her sensitive skin again, a nibble of his blunt front teeth making her squirm. Gods, his tongue was wet and cold, sending every hair on her arm to stand on end as he drew her sleeve to ruck at her elbow. Katja hated it, but worse, she hated the damp that collected between her thighs. And the worst, she hated how his nostrils flared as he could smell it.

Astarion’s eyes darkened and dilated, gleaming with anticipation. “Even if I couldn’t smell your betraying excitement, your heart dances to the command of my touch,” his lips brushed her skin as he spoke. “My little traitorous treat, what will your people think when they see the marks you will bear forever from my bite?” His chuckle tickled her every nerve. “You must know the carnal thrill that is a vampire’s bite… the slice of cold, the rush of pleasure…”

Katja jerked her arm, only to find his grip like iron on her limb.

“Ah ah,” he scolded her in singsong, “tell me, what do you want, Katja?”

The way he flicked her name off his tongue made her shudder, and not in disgust.

“Do you want what I have to offer you? The head of an infamous vampire lord will more than atone for the sin of a bite from me from time to time.” He looked down at her, tilting her fuming face to meet his eyes, crimson eyes now soft and pleading and glistening in the moonlight. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“I want blood,” she hissed, the accent of her people twisted her syllables, a threat, a promise, and a demand all in one.

And it made Astarion smirk. “Oh, darling, so do I,” he purred. Fangs sank into her wrist, stabbing with ice cold numbness into her artery. Her pulse throbbed as he sucked, the flow of her blood tangible as it left her body to fill his own. She couldn’t look away from how his thick lips stained red, how the muscles of his neck and jaw rippled with every swallow. Mesmerized, brought under his spell, she had one single thought of her own, his bite might not steal her souls like the devils, but fuck… it damned her.

Her mouth opened, her head turned as she forced herself to break her stare.

“Not so fast, my treat,” he growled against her flesh, yanking her against him to snake his other hand down the gusset of her trousers. Slick gathered at the tips of his fingers, and Katja bit her lip to keep from screaming in rapture. That icy touch caught her clit, tantalizing circles tracing over it to coax it from its hood. The bark of the oak scored her back, rough through the linen of her shirt.

Her head spun, but whether it was from the blood loss or the sin of his touch that broke her down, she wasn’t sure. Head lolling to the side, she closed her eyes, embracing the dark inside of their lids, ignoring the way her body trembled.

Ignoring that she was the prey pinned and devoured.

Astarion snarled in her ear, quiet but commanding, his lips drenched in her blood. Icy fingers clawed around her chin and yanked her back to face him.

This was it she was sure. Her death on his fingers and by his fangs. Her eyes flickered between the way his crimson gaze bored into her and the blood spatter that shone on his pale skin in the moonlight.

Katja refused to close her eyes, even if this was her end.

Yet, he only smiled, wicked and wide, his fingers suddenly teasing her folds with renewed vigor. The rakish smile, the cock of his brow, all of it taunted her, as if to say, I have you now.

“Gods,” she groaned, the sensation of his cool touch curling inside her cunt, catching something deep inside made her jerk and writhe. With every breath, she grew more aware of where he touched her, of where their bodies made contact… of those fingers working in and out of her cunt and of his death-chilled breath on her face.

“Looks who's blushing, even after being drained,” he chuckled, voice slick with her blood in his throat. He pulled her face closer, lips brushing his so she could taste the copper of her essence. “My little treat, with their cheeks… all… flushed…”

Before his last words left his tongue, his fingers shoved deepest yet inside, driving her fluttering walls to the inevitable climax. One last brush of his thumb over her clit, and she was done for. Her head slammed against the tree trunk, her legs shook so hard she slid halfway to the ground.

And he let her crumple, a mess at his feet as his fingers slipped from her folds. Her dark eyes watched in arousal, in horror, as he licked his fingers clean of her slick. “Mmm, delicious,” he crooned, leering down at her, a self-satisfied roll of his head.

“You… leech,” she panted, too boneless to get up yet. Eyes wide in suspense, she watched as he lowered himself to the ground beside her, his back resting against the tree.

Those powerful arms wrapped around her, pulling her against the cold, hard plane of his chest. “Admit it,” he smirked, the tips of his fingers under her chin tilting her face into the moonlight, “if I am a leech, you don’t mind the way I suck.” His chuckle rumbled in her left ear as he set her head back on his shoulder. “You’ll need a moment to recover from the blood loss, I fear I might have… over indulged.” His fingers pressed on her pulse point, not that he needed to touch her skin to hear her heart fluttering and thumping as it tried to make sense of what happened between them. “But don’t you dare fall asleep, you’re walking yourself back to camp, unless I have to carry you for healing. Do you understand?”

Healing?

“No… I’ll be fine. No healing,” she groaned, imagining having to ask the Cleric for Lesser Restoration… it made her stomach churn. And it made Astarion laugh.

“Out with it, what’s funny?” she snapped.

“Every thought your head shows on that pretty little face of yours,” he smirked. “What? Don’t want to go groveling for a healing spell to the woman you replaced?”

“You… fucking… arsehole,” Katja snarled, trying to shove herself off him, only to tip over and lose her balance into the dirt.

His arms caught her, that malicious chuckle growing louder as he pulled her back beside him. “Easy, darling,” he hissed as she struggled against him. “Can’t go letting my little treat pass out and die on her way back to camp…” Air rushed past her ears, her head swimming as he scooped her up. Her clothes were a rumpled mess, his fang marks still aching through her inner wrist.

At first, she tried to fight the help, weak little flails of her mortal frailty that were no match for him—immortal, well-fed, and happy. After a few minutes of that poorly planned attempt, she begrudgingly settled against his chest. Her mind was a blur of thoughts and memories, guilt pricking at her conscience for the sins committed: images of her village far away, of her family long gone, of her tribe’s elders and their disapproving scowls and scolding words of ‘guidance…’

The memory alone made her cheek sting, that long scar from the corner of her right eye to the edge of her jaw. And what was worse, he kept eyeing it now that he held her so close.

“Go ahead,” she hissed. “Ask me about my scar. Everyone does.”

Astarion gave a half-hearted laugh. “I wouldn’t presume to care about it. Besides, scars can be very personal matters, maybe even painful…” His gaze grew distant, his arms holding her stiffening. And then he shook his head, his mop of untamed silver curls tousling even more haphazardly in the moonlight. “I just assumed you were in the process of some… very important monster hunter thing… when you took a near fatal blow.”

Katja barked a laugh, too loud for his pointed ears. “Fuck you, Astarion. You don’t even know how close you are from the truth, and yet how far.”

“What? Did a dragon think you were its mate because you’re also so cold blooded and ferocious?”

Was … that a compliment? Katja would have thrown herself from his embrace if she could to question him. He sounded positively charming, purring like that as his laugh rumbled into her body. But she shook the thought from her addled skull. “No, it’s… just the mark left on a foolish girl who hesitated instead of landing the killing blow.”

“Ah, there it is, the stark brutality of the Gur,” his voice dripped with venom suddenly. “Keep your secrets then, little treat. I wouldn’t want to suddenly find myself thinking well of you, or worse, starting to like you.”

Katja gagged, overtly and dramatically, at the mere suggestion. “Please, for fucks sake. This is just an agreement for us both to benefit. You get to live, and I get a quarry that will finally prove myself to my tribe… well, once this whole Absolutist cult is defeated, and we don’t become Mindflayers, and we find a—”

“Gods, shut up,” he snapped. “I’d clap my palm over your irritating mouth if I wasn’t going to drop your sorry ass. In the meantime…” His purring, churlish lips covered hers. Their fullness demanded her silence, his tongue sweeping once across her mouth before he shoved it inside. That gagged her, that muffled her constant flow of unnecessary words.

His lips worked furiously, almost gracefully, claiming every inch of her mouth. The lingering metallic taste of her blood sickened her stomach, at least she thought that was why her stomach twisted into knots. If her head didn’t spin so much from the lack of air and the loss of blood, Katja might have even marveled at how graceful and surefooted he was stalking in the shadows as he was… otherwise engaged… all the way back to camp.

The campfire flickered warmly, and much to her horror, the light grew brighter and the sound of voices did too. Katja thrashed in his arms with what little strength she had, landing an elbow in his gut hard enough to make him grunt in pain, but not drop her. “Don’t. Don’t you dare walk me through them all…”

“Oh please,” he chuckled wickedly, that charming and sinister smile curling his bloodied lips. “Given the noise you made, I’m sure they already know.”

Her hands reached into his mess of sweaty silver curls and yanked. “Godsdammit, I mean it,” she hissed.

“Alright,” he snarled, a rough snap of fangs at her aggression. “You’re really ensuring I don’t like you, aren’t you.” He retreated into the quiet shadows, making for her tent of practical cream and silver canvas from the edges of their camp. “Once I see you properly healed up, don’t go clawing my eyes out, you feral cat,” he hissed, lowering himself into the dark of her tent to set her on her bedroll.

“What did you say?” she hissed, but he was already gone again. Healed? Katja's limbs felt cold and heavy, her breathing shallow and rapid. It was all she could manage to lay on her bedroll and wait… for Astarion, for death, for her body to recover. She didn’t know which one would come first.

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, only to open once more as blue light shined behind her eyelids. That fucking silken voice purred above her. “Te absolvo…”

And suddenly all her ailments vanished.

Katja opened her eyes to see Astarion grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “Feeling better?” he crooned.

“How…?”

He shrugged off her question with a graceful roll of his shoulders. “What’s the point of first taking advantage of the Cleric as a vampire if you don’t learn where she keeps her scrolls of Lesser Restoration?” He patted his pocket. “Even managed a few for the future. Besides,” his smile broadened into a full blown twistedly wicked smirk, “she’s not going to need them anymore. You will, however…”

Katja rolled her eyes and then turned her back to him under the cover of her bedroll.

A choice she instantly regretted.

A single cool finger swept down the side of her right cheek, tracing the groove of her scar from her eye to chin.

“I’ve seen you in battle. I’ve watched you slice a Hobgoblin in two today as if he was glass… Something fearsome must have sunk a claw into you, since you’re wretchedly ferocious. Dragon? Cyclops?” She turned to meet his taunting smirk. “Kobold?”

Maybe it was the rush of magic healing making her feel good. Maybe it was the way his cool fingers stoked a fire to burn in the wake of his touch. Katja swallowed and looked him in the eye. “Gnoll,” she corrected.

Astarion’s thick brows shot to his tousled hair line. “Tch,” he sucked his teeth, “my, my. You’re full of embarrassing surprises, aren’t you? One little gnoll?”

Katja frowned. “I was six, not that it matters to you and your ageless, soulless existence,” she snapped, the swirl of memories sweeping her away, a whirlpool of pain and nostalgia. “Gur children are made to face a monster in the wilderness, their first kill. My sorry ass came across a bloated, festering hyena, a Gnollspawn. My poor, little girlish heart made the simple mistake of stopping to try to help the almost-carcass instead of putting it swiftly out of its misery. It happened so fast. I pulled out my only healing potion to pour it in its mouth when…” Her memories filled with the sound of bones cracking and guts spilling over her. The image of glowing yellow eyes seared into her mind made her shiver again. “Its newborn claw almost took my eye, leaving me with this nice necrotically scared smile on the side of my face in exchange for a moment of mercy.”

Something flickered behind Astarion’s crimson eyes as he listened… shockingly attentive and uncharacteristically silent.

“No mercy, no doubts, no… sentimental feelings when it comes to monsters,” she replied quietly, holding that now hardened stare. “No Gnoll or Minotaur or Werewolf has ever caught me off guard since.”

Astarion’s chest stopped rising and falling, his unnecessary breath held as he scanned that scar closer. “Well… it certainly accounts for a good deal of your ‘kill first, think never’ mentality.” He looked down at her, his mouth turned somewhere between a scowl and a smirk. “But, far be it for me to judge a story behind someone’s scars,” now his lips curled into a full-blown impish leer. “Even if it was an embarrassing tale. And don’t worry, if any gnollies cross our path… I’ll protect you…” those last words, almost crooned in a taunting sing-song. “Even if it’s too good for your kind,” he added more for himself, his molars grinding in some unshared, festering hate.

“What have you got against the Gur, anyway?” Katja bristled.

“Aside from your people’s traditional hatred of my very existence?” Astarion snarled, quietly muffled through his fangs as his head tilted slowly. “Aside from the very same lesson you learned before you could even write your name? To kill monsters on sight, fuck their own existence in this realm?” His eyes hardened, his muscles tensing, and suddenly every instinct in Katja’s body hummed to kill, to maim, to put the monster over her down.

But she just swallowed and held his gaze.

Astarion shook it off, taking a deep breath and running his hand through his messy curls as he chuckled. “Well, whatever the reasons… we need each other. Our truce still stands, after all.”

And then, his icy finger ran down the mark of her scar, and it wasn’t because of his corpse-cold touch that she shivered. Those fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face into his. “As one monster that has managed to make those precious instincts of yours falter for once, this is going to be fun,” he smirked, his voice low, an enticing rumble in his puncture-scarred throat.

Katja closed her eyes, feeling his death-chilled breath ghosting over her lips. Waiting… and waiting…

Until his touch released her face, and he was gone.

[notadryseatinthehouse]

The sub-categories of enemies-to-lovers, on a scale of “enemies-to-lovers is an accurate description” to “this should probably not qualify as enemies-to-lovers”:

I hate you because we are actually sworn enemies, from warring kingdoms, clans, families, tribes, ideologies, or other social demarcations…but now, in the face of everything I know and hold dear, I love you.

I hate you because you once did great harm to myself and/or someone I love…but now, despite the pain you caused, I understand you better and love you.

I hate you because we were once lovers and you betrayed me…but now, you have made appropriate amends and we have both grown as people, and I love you.

I hate you because I have a bias, or have heard a rumor about you, that makes me hate you…but now, having learned more about you, I have learned that I was wrong and now I love you.

I hate you because we are trapped together in circumstances that I detest and I wish so badly I was in different circumstances that I hate you by default…but I have since discovered that I can trust you, and now I love you.

I hate you because we have been acquainted or even friends for a very long time and shit-talking and/or pranks have long been our way of showing our affection…but now I am no longer being an idiot and I realize that I love you.

I hate you because I’m sexually attracted to you and that’s annoying. Aaaand now we’re fucking. And oh whoops I guess I love you, yikes, how did that happen?

[abrilas-art]

Cover art and design for Way Down We Go by @xiaq audiobook by @etl-echo-audiobooks

Posting now on Spotify

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 08 Chapter 08 | serpents & shadows⌟

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The world blurred around you as the two of you tore through the woods at breakneck speed. Branches clawed at your arms and legs, roots snagged at your boots, and the golden glow of Apollo's wrath pulsed ominously behind you.

Hermes moved like smoke, effortlessly darting through the chaos as if the forest bent itself to his will, while you struggled to keep up, panting and stumbling over the uneven ground.

"Are we almost—" you gasped, breathless, but Hermes cut you off with a bright, maddening laugh.

"Not yet!" he called over his shoulder, his voice frustratingly chipper. "What's the rush? We've got all night!"

All night, indeed. The hours stretched endlessly as you ran, the dark woods closing in around you, and every time you thought your legs might give out, Hermes would glance back, his golden eyes gleaming with unspoken amusement.

By the time the trees started thinning and the first rays of morning light broke through, painting the forest in muted golds and soft greens, your legs felt like they might give out. The weightless satchel slung over your shoulder was the only mercy, though it didn't stop your muscles from screaming in protest.

Finally, as you reached the edge of the woods where a narrow dirt path stretched out before you, Hermes came to an abrupt halt. You nearly crashed into him, stumbling to a stop with a strangled gasp.

"What... now?" you managed, hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath.

Hermes didn't answer right away. He stood perfectly still, his golden eyes scanning the horizon with an uncharacteristic seriousness. His brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as he hummed low in his throat.

"Eventually, he'll catch up," Hermes said finally, his voice quieter now, thoughtful. "Especially if we stay in the mortal plane."

Your stomach twisted at the implication. "So... what do we do?"

Hermes didn't respond immediately. His gaze turned inward, his fingers tapping lightly against the polished wood of his staff. His wings fluttered faintly, almost as if responding to his thoughts.

And then his eyes snapped to you, narrowing with sharp intensity.

"I wonder..." he muttered, his tone almost absent as he scratched his chin.

You bristled at this, biting your lip hard to swallow the sarcastic remark that nearly slipped out. Don't antagonize the god of thieves. Don't antagonize the god of thieves.

Hermes tilted his head, humming thoughtfully again before his expression shifted. His grin returned, wide and mischievous, and he clapped his hands together like he'd just solved a riddle. "Alright! Let's continue."

"...What?" you blurted, staring at him in disbelief as he turned and started walking down the winding dirt path ahead.

"Come on, little thief!" Hermes called over his shoulder, his tone light and teasing once more. "We've got places to be."

You groaned but followed, dragging your feet as exhaustion tugged at every step. "Mind telling me where we're going this time?"

"Patience," Hermes said, waving a hand as if brushing off the question. "I have a few ideas. Apollo can't watch everywhere at once, now can he?"

You frowned, your suspicion bubbling back to the surface despite your fatigue. "You mean you don't know yet."

Hermes snorted, his smirk visible even from behind. "Oh, I know plenty, little thief. The real question is, how lucky are you feeling today?"

Your lips pressed into a thin line, and you glared at the back of his head. But you couldn't deny it—wherever Hermes was leading you, it was better than standing still.

Still, as the two of you trudged down the dirt path, the golden light of dawn casting long shadows around you, the weight of Apollo's anger lingered like a storm on the horizon.

You couldn't help but wonder what Hermes was planning—and whether you'd live long enough to find out. His steps were light and confident, his staff tapping the ground rhythmically as if the chaos around you didn't exist.

He led you through places you couldn't have imagined, taking shortcuts through mortal villages, vast divine realms, and strange in-between spaces where reality itself seemed to shift.

After what felt like hours of walking in silence, the forest began to change. The trees thinned and twisted unnaturally, their branches curling like fingers pointing the way. The golden warmth of morning faded, giving way to a strange, muted stillness.

The first stop was a mortal village, but something was wrong. Time stood still here. Villagers were frozen mid-step, their faces caught in expressions of joy, frustration, or confusion.

A woman balanced a basket on her hip, her other hand reaching for a door handle that would never turn.

A dog hovered mid-leap, its jaws stretched wide as if barking at something unseen.

"What is this place?" you whispered, your voice barely carrying in the eerie silence.

"Ah," Hermes said, grinning as he glanced over his shoulder. "Just a little detour. Time's on pause here, thanks to a hiccup in the mortal flow. Charming, isn't it?"

"Charming is not the word I'd use," you muttered, shivering as you stepped carefully around a frozen child, her hand outstretched toward a ball suspended midair.

Before you could question further, Hermes tugged you onward, and the village melted away, replaced by a vast canyon with walls that seemed alive.

The stone shifted subtly, rippling like water in a breeze. You swore you could see faces etched into the rock—faces that moved, their expressions flickering between sorrow and rage.

"Don't stare too long," Hermes warned, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "They don't like that."

You swallowed hard, tearing your gaze away as the canyon narrowed, its shifting walls brushing dangerously close to your shoulders. Great. Just great, add moody sentient rock walls to my growing list of things to avoid.

Hermes, of course, moved effortlessly through the space, his wings fluttering faintly as he glided ahead.

And then, as if the canyon had never existed, you stepped into a world where reality seemed to defy logic entirely.

The sky was a patchwork of colors that shifted with every blink—red to green to deep indigo. The people here were... different. Half-human, half-animal hybrids walked casually among one another, their fur, scales, and feathers gleaming under the strange, shifting light.

A woman with feline ears and a long tail passed by, balancing a stack of baskets on her head. Nearby, a man with wings sprouting from his back barked orders to a group of children with webbed hands and gills.

"Where are we?" you asked, your voice shaky as you tried to keep your focus on Hermes.

"Bestialis," Hermes said simply, not bothering to elaborate.

He moved through these realms with effortless grace, always a step ahead, always knowing exactly where to go. You, on the other hand, scrambled to keep up, your heart racing as the surreal landscapes shifted around you.

Hermes, naturally, found your struggles hilarious.

"Keep up, little thief!" he called, glancing back with a grin. "Or do you need me to carry you?"

"Don't tempt me," you grumbled, nearly tripping over a root that hadn't been there a second ago.

But as you moved, you began to notice a pattern. No matter where Hermes led you, Apollo's omens followed.

Golden flames flickered in the shadows, their light casting unnatural shapes against the ground.

Whispers echoed through the wind, soft and unintelligible but always carrying the same weight—a reminder of the god's wrath.

Animals with glowing eyes watched from the edges of your vision, their stares unblinking and unnerving.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore.

"What in Hades is going on?" you demanded after a particularly unsettling moment where a deer with golden tears streaking down its face appeared, only to vanish as you blinked.

"Oh," Hermes said, snapping his fingers as if he'd just remembered something trivial. "I forgot to tell you—Apollo's curses follow you until he's satisfied." He flashed you a wicked grin. "Have fun with that!"

You nearly tripped again, your voice rising in disbelief. "And you're just now telling me this?!"

"I figured you'd notice eventually," Hermes said with a shrug, his smirk maddeningly bright. "Besides, it's not all bad. Adds a bit of spice to the chase, doesn't it?"

"Are you helping me or making it worse!?"

Hermes tilted his head, tapping his chin theatrically. "Both, probably."

You glared at him, your fists clenched at your sides, but you didn't have time to argue. The golden flames flickered again, closer this time, and you pressed on.

Still, as you followed him through these strange, shifting places, you began to notice little things about Hermes.

He was always a step ahead—literally and figuratively—guiding you with an ease that bordered on instinct. But sometimes, when he thought you weren't looking, his grin faltered, replaced by something almost... thoughtful.

You caught him tensing once when Apollo's presence grew stronger, his fingers tightening subtly on his staff. And though he mocked you mercilessly, he was always quick to pull you out of harm's way, his sharp eyes scanning for dangers you didn't even notice.

He wouldn't admit it—not in a thousand years—but it almost seemed like he cared.

Almost.

.☆.       .✩.             .☆.

Currently, the two of you were walking through a strange, surreal place—a space between worlds.

The air shimmered with a swirling mist that seemed alive, constantly shifting and morphing into tendrils of soft blues, vibrant pinks, and eerie silvers.

Echoes of laughter, faint and haunting, rippled through the air, as if the voices of long-forgotten wanderers were trapped in the folds of this in-between place.

The ground beneath your feet wasn't ground at all, not really. It looked solid but rippled slightly with each step, like walking across a shallow pond that refused to get you wet.

The air smelled faintly of ozone and something sweet you couldn't place, and every now and then, a flicker of light darted across the horizon—too fast and fleeting to catch.

"What is this place?" you asked, your voice hushed despite yourself.

"Well, aren't you just full of questions?" Hermes sarcastically smiled before grumbling under his breath, "You've got more questions than a sphinx on a slow day."

You snapped back without missing a beat, "Well, excuse me for wanting to know about the mythical nonsense that might kill me at any moment."

He stopped spinning his staff for a moment, giving you a look that was equal parts amusement and exasperation before huffing a quiet laugh. "Fine. It's called The Seam—a sliver between here and there, where the rules... bend a little."

His casual tone didn't do much to ease your nerves, especially as the shimmering mist coiled closer, almost as if it were listening.

You hugged the satchel tighter to your side and muttered, "That's reassuring."

Hermes only grinned, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief as he strode ahead. "Don't worry. It's not the rules breaking you need to worry about. It's what's watching while they bend."

"Like I said, exactly as comforting as I expected." Your eyes scanned the ever-shifting mist.

As you walked, your attention caught on something ahead—a fissure in the ground that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. You couldn't help but stop, peering down into it.

The crack wasn't just a break in the surface. It swirled.

Colors danced within it—deep reds, greens, and golds twisting together in hypnotic patterns.

The longer you stared, the more you realized you could hear faint voices emanating from it, soft and indistinct. They weren't loud enough to understand, but something about them tugged at your curiosity, drawing you closer.

Before you realized it, you were leaning over, your body tilting forward instinctively to hear the voices better.

The sound was strange, not quite words, but almost... a memory? You weren't sure, but you wanted to know—

Your foot slipped.

"Ah!" Your arms flailed wildly, grasping at empty air as you felt yourself tipping forward. Your heart plummeted, the swirling crack beneath you glowing brighter, its strange light stretching upward as if to meet you.

Before you could fall completely, a firm hand grabbed the back of your shirt, yanking you backward with a force that nearly sent you sprawling onto your rear.

"Whoa there!" Hermes' voice was bright, almost teasing, as he hauled you upright. "Careful! That's a crack in reality—you wouldn't want to fall in."

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath, your pulse pounding in your ears. For a split second, your foot had dangled over the edge, and you swore you'd felt the pull of whatever was inside that crack.

You shot a weak glare at Hermes, your lips trembling slightly as you tried to regain your composure.

"S-Shut up," you muttered, your voice shaky as you brushed yourself off and moved forward, desperate to put some distance between you and the fissure.

Hermes, of course, was grinning like this was all part of the plan, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement as he followed behind. "Really, little thief," he said, spinning his staff lazily. "If you keep stumbling like that, I might start charging for rescues."

You didn't dignify that with a response, keeping your gaze forward as you pressed on through the mist. Your heart was still racing, but you refused to let him see just how rattled you were.

Behind you, Hermes chuckled softly, the sound carrying through the strange air like a melody, warm and maddening all at once.

☆

☆

After what felt like forever, the mist began to thin, revealing more solid ground beneath your feet. The ever-shifting colors around you faded into muted tones, though the whispers and faint echoes lingered like a dream you couldn't quite wake from.

You trudged along behind Hermes, the weightless satchel bouncing lightly at your side. Exhaustion weighed heavy on your limbs, but your curiosity and the sheer strangeness of this place kept your mind too restless to fully collapse.

As you walked, you noticed Hermes tapping his staff against the ground in a steady rhythm, his gaze distant as though he was deep in thought. The staff was always in motion—spinning, bouncing, or resting across his shoulders like an afterthought.

Then, you caught sight of Hermes' staff as it gave a sudden jolt, the twin serpents coiled around it seemingly shifting. You blinked, assuming it was a trick of the light until one of the serpents lifted its head and yawned.

"What the..." you breathed, stumbling back slightly as the second snake stirred as well, its scales shimmering faintly with golden hues. Both snakes unraveled slightly, the upper half of their slender forms lifting off the staff while the rest remained coiled tightly around the polished wood.

They were small, no thicker than your wrist; they moved with fluid grace, their heads darting about as if testing the air like excited hatchlings.

The bronze one on the left stretched upward, its forked tongue flicking out before it tilted its small head to look at you. "Ssshe'sss ssstaring at usss," it said, its voice high-pitched and childlike.

"Of courssse she's ssstaring at usss," the gold one on the right replied, its tone equally whiny but with a hint of smugness. "We're impressssive."

"Hermes!" you hissed, pointing at the creatures as one of them looped lazily through the air. "Your staff is alive!"

Hermes sighed dramatically. "Of course they're alive. Meet Aceso and Panacea." He waved a dismissive hand before glancing at the snakes out of the corner of his eye. "And will you two behave?"

Aceso—the bronze one—darted toward you, its forked tongue flicking out as it stared curiously. Its voice, high-pitched and almost childlike, echoed in your head. "Food? When do we get food?"

"Yesss!" chimed Panacea—the gold one—snaking around Hermes' hand. "You promisssed food! Where isss it?"

Hermes groaned, rubbing his temples as if the two's whining were giving him a migraine. "Yes, yes, I know what I said. Just... quiet down, would you? We're in the middle of something important."

"Important?" you repeated, incredulous, Aceso darted closer, wrapping itself loosely around your wrist. Its scales were warm against your skin, and its tiny golden eyes peered up at you with an almost unnerving amount of intelligence.

"Exciting isss more like it," Panacea giggled, unweaving from Hermes' staff before darting down to inspect your satchel.

"Oh, for the love of—" Hermes muttered, swatting lightly at Panacea. "They're not dangerous. Just dramatic." He thumps his staff against the ground once again, jostling the little reptiles. "I just got you two, and you're already driving me mad."

"You choossse usss!" Aceso protested, uncurling from around your wrist in a lazy loop. "You sssaid it'd be cool!"

"Yesss," Panacea added, slithering dramatically. "But it'sss not cool! All this walking and no food? Sssuch a disssappointment! Ssso lame!"

You stared, dumbfounded, at the two snakes as they continued their bizarre back-and-forth. "How...? Are they talking?!" you managed to ask, your voice rising an octave.

"Unfortunately," Hermes muttered, glaring at the snakes as they whined in unison. "Enchanted serpents have been a part of my staff since the old day, though let's just say they're not the originals. They're... fresh out of the egg, you might say."

"Fresh out of the egg?"

"They're still adjusting," Hermes said with a shrug.

"And we regret joining! This isss boring!"

"Yesss, boring! No food, no excitement—ugh!"

Hermes ignored them. "Which also means I haven't had time to teach them how to be useful."

"Ussseful?!" Aceso gasped, coiling in mock offense. "We are ussseful!"

"Yesss, like how we're alwaysss keeping you entertained," Panacea added smugly.

Hermes rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath about regretting every decision that had led to this moment.

The snakes turned their attention back to you, their small, beady eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Ssshe'sss funny-looking," Panacea whispered loudly, earning a scowl from you.

"Ssshe alssso sssmellsss weird," Aceso added, tilting its head.

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

The indignation flared hotter because it wasn't just an insult—it was coming from them. Your eyes flicked to Aceso, who had just been coiled around your wrist not a moment ago, nuzzling you like a newfound best friend. And now? It darted through the air as if it hadn't practically purred at your touch.

Hermes snorted, clearly amused despite himself. "Oh, don't mind them. They're still learning manners... or the lack thereof."

Fake, you thought bitterly. Completely fake. Aceso, with its high-pitched whining and dramatic coils, was the worst offender. It had been practically singing your praises moments ago, and now it was sniffing at you like a suspicious stranger.

Suddenly, an idea struck you then—one that reminded you of an old circus performer you'd watched as a child. He had been a snake charmer, soothing his creatures with oils and whispered words.

Digging into your satchel, you pulled out a small vial of oil you kept for your dry skin—and occasionally slipping out of ropes when you got caught. You poured a bit onto your fingers, rubbing them together before holding them out toward the snakes.

The snakes paused mid-squabble, their forked tongues flicking out curiously.

"What'sss that?"

"It sssmellsss nice."

Slowly, Aceso slithered back toward your hand, its tiny scales glinting faintly in the fading mist. You held still, your heart racing as the snake's small head dipped forward to sniff the oil; its tiny body shuddered before it let out a delighted hiss, nuzzling your fingers like an overexcited puppy. "It'sss ssslippery."

Panacea darted over, sniffing at the oil on your fingers before letting out a similarly pleased hiss. "I like thisss one!"

"Me too! You're better than him!" Aceso pointed its small head toward Hermes, who rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Traitors. The lot of you." Hermes muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You smirked, stroking the Panacea as it curled closer. "Maybe they just needed someone with a better touch," you said smugly.

"They needed someone who spoils them," Hermes corrected, shaking his head. "You've created a problem for yourself, little thief, because that"—he pointed to the two snakes hissing in happiness—"is something I refuse to make part of my daily routine. I'm afraid they'll never leave you alone now."

The snakes hissed softly, clearly satisfied, as they returned to coiling themselves partially around the staff. The upper halves of their bodies remained free, however, darting occasionally to inspect you with curiosity.

As you continued walking, the serpents' warmth lingered on your skin, and for a brief moment, the strange, shifting mist around you seemed less oppressive. The laughter in the distance grew faint, fading into soft whispers before vanishing entirely.

You wouldn't admit it—not even to yourself—but there was something oddly comforting about the snakes' playful antics and the constant presence of Hermes, smug as he was.

A/N: okay, confession time: I recently rewatched Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief (don't judge me; nostalgia hit hard 😩), and I couldn't resist adding Hermes' iconic staff snakes! Aceso and Panacea just slid right into this story like they've been waiting for their moment in the spotlight. I mean, how could I not? two sassy little snake gremlins that talk, complain, and have their own personalities? Perfect.

[emeraldspiral]

There is something so funny about the fact that despite the creators hating it, within the context of their own series there are people who think Zuko and Katara are a couple and Zim and Dib are best friends.

[etl-echo-audiobooks]

GO REPORT THIS PLEASE!

Someone reposted Manacled back to spotify expressly against our wishes. Everything is now" "account only" on ao3, and will be removed entirely if this persists. I am disheartened and disgusted.

[izachin]

OSHA X QIMIR PTVII #TheAcolyte #StarWars #RenewTheAcolyte #Qimir #thestranger #osha #oshamir #oshamirfanart #starwarstheacolyte #disney #etl #enemiestolovers #art #procreate

[etlfvcker]

Sylki- This Hell | Rina Sawayama 🔥

Rina Sawayama came to me in a dream and told me that I have to edit these two messy bisexuals to her song, so who am I to deny her??? 🤷‍♀️