Chapter Text
It was night on Olympus. It was never truly silent, especially now that the demigods were living there. A year had passed since everything happened, since the children vanished and were never found. But that night, something felt different.
Hermes noticed it even before closing the door of the last room in his temple-palace.
“Sleep well, my little snake,” he murmured, adjusting the blanket over one of his youngest children.
The boy was already fast asleep, clutching a turtle plush Hermes had given him as a gift. He wasn’t the only one in the room,there were other beds, other children. At most six demigods, each sleeping in their own bed, warm sheets tucked around them, each holding a plush Hermes himself had gifted and blessed with his divine favor.
Hermes left the shared dormitory, closing the door carefully. The golden corridor of his temple-palace felt longer that night, the torches casting strange shadows along the marble walls. He took a deep breath.
All of his children were there.
All who remained.
All except Luke.
Even so, the discomfort in his chest didn’t fade. It only ever did when he found him.
But this unease was different,like someone was tugging on an invisible thread tied to his heart. Not forcefully, but persistently. A call that vibrated through his bones.
“This isn’t normal…” he murmured to himself.
Hermes turned and began to walk. He had already left his temple-palace. He didn’t know where he was going,only that he was following the pull. He passed through Olympian corridors, moonlit gardens, and marble columns. The farther he went, the more the air felt… wrong. Was he becoming paranoid?
Until he stopped,standing in the middle of a gallery he swore had never existed before.
“Where did I end up?” he said, looking around. He tried to use his power of orientation as the god of travelers, but it failed. “I’ve never seen this place and I should know. It feels like I’m no longer on Olympus.”
Then he saw the mirror.
It wasn’t large or ornate. No golden frame, no divine symbols. Just an old mirror, tall enough to reflect the god in full. Its surface looked like still water.
He stepped closer.
At first, it reflected only himself: the messenger of the gods, winged sandals, sharp smile, eyes far too tired for an immortal.
Then the image changed.
Hermes stepped back when a simple room appeared in the reflection. Pale stone walls, an open window letting in sunlight it was daytime there. On a narrow bed, a boy slept.
Hermes recognized that face instantly.
“Luke…?”
The name left his lips in a broken whisper.
Luke looked younger. Much younger. Fourteen, perhaps. His features hadn’t yet been hardened by hatred, by years of abandonment, by terrible choices. His brown hair was a little longer, spread across the pillow. He wore a simple white chiton,nothing like modern clothes or Camp Half-Blood armor.
Hermes stepped closer to the mirror, his heart racing.
“Luke, it’s me. Luke!” he shouted.
He kept shouting—once, twice—but in the end, nothing.
Luke didn’t move. Didn’t react.
“He can’t hear me…” Hermes realized, his throat dry.
Then something moved at the edge of the reflection.
Hermes felt his stomach twist. Another presence entered the room.
At first glance, it looked like… himself.
But it wasn’t.
That Hermes was different,his body marked by something more primitive. Dark feathers were mixed into his hair, which fell wild over his shoulders. His eyes were too golden, shining like a bird’s. The winged sandals were there, but the wings were larger,true wings, different from his own. This Hermes was more divine, less human than he was now.
The other Hermes set a tray down on a nearby table and sat beside Luke’s bed naturally. He reached out and gently touched the boy’s shoulder.
“Little bird,” he said softly, his voice low, rough, and full of affection. “Time to wake up.”
Luke stirred, mumbling something unintelligible. As he lifted his arm, the original Hermes saw a small snake slowly unwind around the boy’s wrist, like a living bracelet.
Hermes held his breath.
The other Hermes smiled, revealing teeth slightly sharper than they should be.
“Easy,” he said to the snake. “Let him wake up first.”
Luke opened his eyes slowly. There was no fear. No startle.
“Dad…?” he murmured sleepily.
The word struck Hermes like a blade.
Dad.
The other Hermes leaned in and touched Luke’s forehead tenderly.
“Breakfast is ready, little bird.”
“Just… just five more minutes,” Luke yawned, sitting up. “I’m still sleepy.”
Hermes felt something he hadn’t felt in centuries.
Jealousy.
Jealous of that simple intimacy.
Luke didn’t look hurt. Didn’t look trapped. There was no hatred in his eyes,the hatred Hermes remembered so well.
The other Hermes stood, laughing softly.
“Alright, little bird. I’ll let you sleep a bit more,” he said. “I’m going to get more bread. I won’t be long. Sleep a little longer for now.”
“Okay, Dad,” Luke replied, smiling faintly.
When the other Hermes left the room, Luke was alone. The snake curled around his arm peacefully. He was about to fall asleep again when—
He frowned.
Slowly, Luke turned his head. His eyes fixed on the mirror.
Hermes’ heart stopped.
For a single second—just one—Luke seemed to see him. Not directly, but like someone sensing something out of place. His eyes met Hermes’ through the glass.
“…That’s strange,” Luke murmured, staring at the mirror.
“Luke,” Hermes whispered, almost begging. “It’s me.”
Luke stood and took a step toward the mirror. The snake slid into the sleeve of his chiton. He looked confused, but not afraid,like he truly could see—
A sound interrupted him.
“Dad?” Luke called, turning toward the door, no longer looking at the mirror.
Hermes felt a knot tighten in his chest.
“No,” he said softly. “Look at me.”
But the moment broke.
The surface of the mirror rippled like disturbed water. The room, Luke, the other Hermes,everything dissolved.
In the blink of an eye, Hermes saw only his own reflection again.
He fell to his knees, breathing hard, and cried.
“Luke…”
He raised a trembling hand and pressed it against the mirror in desperation, trying to bring the image back,but nothing happened.
Luke was alive.
Luke was somewhere out there.
And he was calling another god father.
Hermes spent the entire night staring at the mirror, waiting for the image to return.