Four | Storm Rising

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The evening sky outside the loft had deepened into shades of indigo, and the city below glittered with lights, but inside, a different sort of glow radiated—a tension so thick it seemed to vibrate through the air. Hermes, Apollo, and Artemis had just returned from their latest encounter with their father, and the atmosphere was heavy with the weight of his cruel words.

Hermes stormed through the room, his steps rapid and uneven, the anger in his chest roaring louder with each second. His cheek was still swollen and red from here Zeus had slapped him, the sting of the insult far deeper than the physical blow.

With a shaking hand, Hermes reached for a bottle of whiskey, pouring it out in a glass as he struggled to keep his fury under control. He splashed in a bit of ambrosia—just enough to dull the ache—and downed the mixture without a second thought. His jaw clenched tight as the burn slid down his throat.

“How can he be so cruel?” Hermes snarled, pouring himself another glass,  “We’ve worked tirelessly—day and night—to keep things in balance. To make sure his precious mortals are safe.” He took a long swig, his throat burning as the mixture slid down. “And this is what we get? Mockery? Insults?”

Apollo leaned back on the couch, his silver hair glinting in the fading light. He let out a bitter laugh. “There’s no point in arguing with him. You know how Father is. He’s never going to see it from our side. He only cares about one thing."

Artemis, who had been quietly preparing ice in a dishcloth, walked over to Hermes and gently pressed it against his swollen cheek. Her touch was tender, but her face was serious. “You don’t deserve that, Hermes. None of us do.”

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the clinking of the ice and the distant noise of the city below. A heavy silence settled over the siblings.

Apollo broke it with a sigh, rubbing his temples. “You know, it’s lonely being a god. The mortals may think we have everything—immortality, power, ambrosia on tap—but in the end, what do we really have?” He laughed again, bitterly this time. “A dysfunctional family.”

Hermes snorted, but even he couldn’t deny the truth in his brother’s words. “Dysfunctional doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He took another drink, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to soothe the frustration boiling in his chest.

Artemis looked between her brothers, her brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, she spoke, breaking the silence again. “I met with him today,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Both Apollo and Hermes perked up, curious.

“You met with Kyros?” Apollo asked, leaning forward, his golden eyes narrowing with interest.

Hermes stilled, lowering his glass. “How is he?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with concern. Hermes had always been closest to Kyros, more so than the others. They shared a bond few could understand.

Artemis gave a small, wry smile. “Still a pain in the butt, like always. But you know Kyros—he’s always getting mistaken for something or someone. An actor, a model.” She chuckled. “Someone even asked him to sign a shoe once.”

Apollo barked out a laugh, his mood lightening at the mental image. “The poor guy who asked must be lucky to still be alive.”

Hermes couldn’t help but laugh along with them, though his eyes softened with the lingering worry for their cousin. “I’d pay to see that—Kyros signing someone’s shoe with that look he always gives when he’s annoyed.”

Artemis smirked. “Oh, it was priceless. I think Kyros contemplated disintegrating the guy on the spot. But instead, he just gave him the signature, stone-faced, and with his infamous scowl.”

They all laughed, the image of their serious, brooding cousin forced into such a ridiculous situation providing a brief respite from the weight of their problems. But as the laughter faded, the mood shifted back to something more somber.

Hermes’s smile faltered. “How is he really, though?” His voice dropped, the concern from earlier returning with full force. “He’s... He’s not doing well, is he?”

Artemis’s expression softened, and she shook her head. “No. He’s still wallowing in self-loathing and anger. He hides it well, but it’s there. It’s always there.” She sighed, looking out the window at the darkening sky. “He hasn’t forgiven himself, and he probably never will.”

Apollo, his face darkening, leaned back against the couch, folding his arms. “Hmm..After everything that happened, he has every right to feel his pain. Let him,  His scars were too deep to heal, not even a lifetime can ease his sorrow.. "

Hermes stared into his glass, his heart heavy with sadness. He wanted to argue, to defend Kyros, but a part of him knew Apollo wasn’t entirely wrong. Still, hearing the state Kyros was in made his chest ache. “He may deserve it for being so stubborn-- But---” Hermes muttered. “It shouldn’t be like this.”

Artemis sighed softly, her eyes sad as she looked between her brothers. “ I would take a wild guess that he won’t be at the assembly. He never does anyways, His hatred for the gods is too deep, too raw. And we all know that includes us. I could swear, that our faces would be the last thing he'd ever want to gaze upon, He even barely looked at me. "

Apollo nodded grimly. “He’ll never forgive us. Not for what happened. And I can’t say I blame him.” His voice was heavy with guilt, the weight of their family’s history pressing down on him.

Hermes sat in silence, his mind swirling with thoughts of Kyros—their once vibrant cousin, now consumed by anger and pain. He remembered the way Kyros used to laugh, the fire in his eyes when they would joke around. But now... now all that fire has turned to ash.

“It’ll never be like it was,” Artemis said quietly, almost to herself.

The room fell into a deeper silence. The warmth of their earlier laughter had been replaced by a cold realization. Things have changed. Their family was fractured, broken in ways that even gods like them, couldn’t fix.

Artemis moved to sit beside Hermes, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Kyros will too...” she whispered, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. “Somehow.”

Hermes gave a small, bitter smile, grateful for his sister’s attempt at comfort, but the rage and sadness inside him remained, burning deep. He raised his glass one last time, staring at the amber liquid swirling within. “Here’s to our oh-so-great father,” he muttered,

Apollo sighed. " Huuuhh... To our pathetic existence. " he retorted, resting his head back, closing his eyes easing his mind from all the chaos.

With that, Hermes downed the drink in one swift motion, the bitterness of the whiskey mingling with the bitterness in his heart.

As the quiet in the loft settled over them, the tension in the room grew heavier by the second. Hermes sat with the now-empty glass in his hand, lost in thought. Apollo was staring at the ceiling, and Artemis, though trying to comfort her brothers, couldn’t help but feel the weight of Kyros’s absence too.

Suddenly, the door swung open with a hurried creak, interrupting their silence. A guard, clad in a dark, sleek armor imbued with the glow of celestial magic, stood at the entrance. His expression was tense, and his eyes shifted nervously between the three gods.

“Lord Hermes, Lady Artemis, Lord Apollo,” the guard greeted, his voice strained. “I bring urgent news.”

The room seemed to freeze. Hermes immediately set down his glass, standing up straighter. “What is it?” His tone was sharp, impatient, his earlier frustrations now channeling into the present moment.

The guard shifted uncomfortably, gripping his spear tightly as he delivered the message. “A harpy was spotted in the city.”

Apollo’s eyes widened, and he shot to his feet, standing shoulder to shoulder with Hermes. Artemis, still seated, tensed, her gaze darting to her brothers, then back to the guard.

“A harpy?” Apollo repeated, his voice thick with concern. “Where?”

“Near Radio City,” the guard answered, swallowing hard. “We believe there could be more. If there’s one, a flock won’t be far behind.”

A cold chill settled over the room, and the faint sound of city life outside seemed distant, almost irrelevant now. The implications of a harpy in a mortal city were not to be taken lightly. These creatures brought chaos, and wherever they flew, death and ruin followed in their wake.

Hermes’s face paled instantly, his heart pounding in his chest. He stumbled back, his mind racing. It couldn’t be. No.

Apollo’s jaw tightened as he observed his brother’s reaction, already putting the pieces together. He stepped closer to Hermes, his voice low and serious. “Brother... they must have found her.”

Hermes’s breath caught, and his eyes darted between Apollo and the guard, the panic rising within him. “No... this can’t be,” he muttered, shaking his head. “She's not supposed to be found-- I am sure I was able to---" "

Artemis stood, her confusion growing by the second. “She?” she asked, her brows furrowing in concern. “Who are you two talking about? "

But Hermes and Apollo exchanged a glance, one that spoke volumes. There was history here, a hidden truth, one they weren’t ready to tell their sister. Not now.

Hermes turned to the guard, his expression fierce as he issued the command. “I want the entire area searched. Every inch of it. Double the perimeter guards. Heighten the barriers around the city. Make sure not a single harpy gets near the civilians.”

The guard nodded quickly, but Hermes’s voice dropped lower, laced with urgency and unspoken fear. “And listen carefully. you must find her—she is not to be harmed. I want her untouched, is that clear? If anyone so much as scratches her, will directly answer to me, understood?? "

The guard visibly swallowed, clearly unnerved by Hermes’s intensity, but he nodded. “Yes, My lord. I’ll see to it.”

As the guard left to carry out his orders, Artemis was left standing, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as she turned back to her brothers. “What’s going on? Who are you talking about?! Who is this woman you are talking about---- Who is ‘she’? And why are you being so cryptic all of a sudden?! Hermes?! A-Apollo? "

But neither Hermes nor Apollo answered her. Apollo remained silent, looking out the window, his gaze distant and troubled. Hermes, on the other hand, still seemed lost in his own thoughts, his mind undoubtedly racing over the implications of what the guard had said.

Artemis felt a knot of worry twist in her chest. The sighting of a harpy was bad enough—those creatures were notorious for their destructive nature. But now, with her brothers’ cryptic behavior and talk of someone—some woman—it was clear that there was far more at stake than she realized.

“What is it that you both have been hiding from me?” Artemis pressed, her voice more demanding now.

Apollo exhaled deeply but didn’t meet her gaze. “It’s... complicated, sister.”

Artemis faltered, By the sudden realization washing over her. " Hermes--- Don't tell me --- You didn't--"

Hermes, his face still pale and eyes distant, didn’t answer either. His hand reached for the bottle again, but he paused halfway, reconsidering. Instead, he clenched his fists, looking down at the floor as if it held the answers he was seeking.

Artemis bit her lip, frustration gnawing at her, but there was little she could do, Hermes is her brother, in blood. Whatever he must've done to resolve to such rash and irrational decision, was for a reason. And she couldn't talk them both out of it, no. Not now. She will get her answers, but not this time.

Her focus shifted, albeit reluctantly, to the more pressing threat at hand. The harpies. If they had breached the mortal world, if they were being spotted, that meant something far worse was coming. They never traveled alone.

Harpies were harbingers of death, chaos, and destruction. The fact that one had been seen was a sign of impending disaster.

She glanced back at her brothers, seeing the storm of emotions swirling in Hermes’s eyes and the quiet resolve in Apollo’s expression. Whatever was going on, it was deeply personal for them, Not mention, if Kyros finds out the truth, The Harpies would soon lead him to it.

“We have to stop the harpies before they reach the city,” Artemis said, her voice resolute. “If they’re spotted, it won’t be long before they attack. And the mortals—”

“I know,” Hermes interrupted, his voice tight. “We won’t let them. We’ll protect the city.”

But Artemis could sense something deeper, something far more dangerous than a mere harpy sighting.

The evening’s quiet had been shattered, replaced with the looming shadow of danger and of deep hidden truth, and the suffocating scent of myrrh in the air.

A storm is rising.

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