The four of them were lying in the grass on a hill outside the city. The sky stretched black and endless, filled with pinpricks of light. Marco lay with his hands behind his head, Laura sat cross-legged, Mora scrolled absentmindedly on their phone, and Hermes… Hermes pointed up like a child.
Hermes: “Aha! Found him. Orion. The big hunter guy. Looks like he’s about to fall on his face if you ask me.”
Marco: “That’s not Orion. That’s—”
Hermes: “Shh. Don’t ruin it. It is Orion. It always is Orion. He’s the only constellation I never forget, ‘cause the guy’s belt looks like… three dots in a row. Boom. Easy.”
Laura smirked. “So? What’s his story, then? Entertain us, wing boy.”
Hermes grinned, stretching back against the grass like a cat about to spin a tall tale.
Hermes: “Okay, listen. Orion was this huge hunter. Like, skyscraper tall. Friendly with Artemis, the moon girl, goddess of wild things. He thought she was into him—spoiler alert: she wasn’t. Artemis just wanted a friend. No romance. No ‘divine power couple’ thing. Just platonic hunts and stargazing.”
Laura nodded, suddenly serious. “Sounds familiar.”
Hermes chuckled, ignoring it. “Problem is, Orion didn’t take no for an answer. He pushed, and he kept pushing. Artemis told him: I’m not attracted to you. Please leave me alone. But Orion was stronger, taller, and it got dangerous. And Apollo—well, Apollo isn’t just her twin, he’s her protector. He saw Orion trying to corner her one night. Didn’t like that. Didn’t like it one bit.”
Marco frowned, eyes on the stars. “So Apollo killed him?”
Hermes twirled his hand in the air like a flourish. “Oh, not so simple. First came the scorpion. Epic, monstrous, stinger-of-doom scorpion sent by Gaia herself. Orion fought it. The whole earth shook with their battle. Artemis tried to pull him back. But Apollo… Apollo had already decided: Orion had crossed a line. So he tricked his sister into loosing an arrow from afar—straight through Orion’s heart. He drowned in the sea, and the gods put him in the sky as these stars you’re staring at now. Ta-da.”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “You always make it sound like a campfire ghost story.”
Hermes: “That’s because it is. Ghost story, warning, lesson, all rolled into one.”
Silence hung in the air. The constellation glittered above them, Orion frozen mid-stride.
And then a voice, dry as flint and sharp as a blade, cut through the night:
Apollo: “You got it wrong again, brother.”
They turned, startled. A tall figure stood at the edge of the hill, golden hair catching the faint starlight, his presence too radiant for the darkness around him.
Apollo: “Night and darkness aren’t really my thing, but here I am. And no, Hermes, it didn’t happen the way you said. I don’t twist history into bedtime stories.”
Hermes tilted his head, grinning. “That’s why everyone likes my version better.”
Godmode: Enabled 