CHAPTER 140: RECONCILIATION

Hermes was not healed, but he was breathing again. And that was enough.

The days that followed blurred into one another. Not because he drowned himself in obsession, but because he tried, for once, to live without letting Eirwyn gnaw at his every waking hour.

The picture still sat on his bulletin board. The strings were still there. But the difference was that Hermes no longer let it consume him like fire devouring paper.

Instead, he began to reconcile.

With Ymir, it was small things. Quiet things. A spar in the training yard, not the brutal kind meant to draw blood, but the restrained, technical kind. Ymir’s ice blade met Hermes’ fire staff, their eyes locking. Once, that tension would have been deadly, toxic.

But now... When Ymir pushed Hermes back and saw him stumble, he smirked instead of sneered.

Hermes smirked back.

It wasn’t forgiveness. It wasn’t forgetting. But it was a step forward.

With Magni, it was simpler. They sat on the rooftop of Somner’s sprawling house one evening, the sunset burning red across the horizon. Magni handed Hermes a soda bottle, clinking it against his own.

Hermes cleared his throat. "I uh—"

"No talk tonight, Brother Modi." Magni said. "Let us simply drink these bubbly beverages."

And so they did. No talk about Ymir. No talk about feelings. No talk about the past. Just two men, watching the sky bleed into night.

Hermes found himself grateful for that.

With Somner, the reconciliation came wrapped in laughter. Somner had dragged him into a karaoke bar, shoving the microphone into his hand while Stella Banner’s song blared on the speakers.

"I can’t sing," Hermes muttered, deadpan.

"Neither can I, and look at me!" Somner howled, already half-dancing in his seat.

Against his better judgment, Hermes sang. Badly. His voice cracked, he was off-key, and Somner clutched his chest in exaggerated agony. But the others cheered, drunk on noise and neon lights, and Hermes felt...

Happy.

***

Hermes found himself back in the field, shoulder-to-shoulder with Cloud Nine.

Not against anything as massive as the broodmother this time, but against a smaller Rift breach that had spewed out a swarm of Void hounds.

Somner’s Sirentone cut across the panic. "Civilians, to the left! Follow the markers! Stay in formation!"

His voice brooked no hesitation, and the crowd obeyed as though their nerves had been strung to his command.

Vera’s Knightmare shimmered into being behind her, the unicorns charging through the pack with horns glowing. Victorina laughed in a musical trill, summoning skeletal cats that leapt for the hounds’ throats.

Cam adjusted his glasses, notebook already open, each Snapshot freezing a beast for the barest second as his pen scratched. "Their carapace softens at the spine. Strike there."

"Roger that!" Fiero yelled, twisting steel pipes into a spiked cage before slamming it down like a lid.

Sparks sizzled, Void hounds howled.

Eris charged headlong, blade flashing. "Keep the line steady! Hermes, cut off their flank!"

And Hermes did. Ice blossomed beneath his feet, spikes bursting from the ground, penning the monsters in. Fire ignited in his free hand, a torrent that washed the pack in blistering heat. The smell of scorched chitin filled the air.

The fight ended quickly and efficiently.

When the last hound fell, Hermes staggered, chest heaving. Then he heard it: the ragged applause of civilians who had been saved.

A child waved at him with both hands, voice trembling.

"Thank you, Hero!"

For a heartbeat, Hermes froze. That warmth.... Real, untainted gratitude, settled in his chest like a fire that didn’t burn.

Somner clapped his shoulder. "Good job, Master. You’re doing great."

Hermes breathed out, tension easing. For the first time in a long while, he believed him.

And yet, through it all, Aphrodite lingered like a shadow Hermes could not reach. The meek scholar sat with his books, tended to the pups, and smiled politely when Hermes returned home. But he never pressed, never asked, never pushed.

It gnawed at Hermes worse than silence.

Until, one night, he couldn’t stand it anymore.

***

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Xolotl lay sprawled across the floor like a rug, his tail twitching lazily. The three Grrberus pups piled together on the couch, their tiny snores overlapping.

Aphrodite sat at the table, nose buried in a book, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The lamplight made his hair glow faintly gold, his profile delicate, serene.

Hermes stood in the doorway for a long time, his chest tightening.

Finally, he spoke.

"...Aphrodite."

The scholarly man blinked, lifting his head. "Oh. You’re still awake."

"Yeah." Hermes stepped forward, fingers curling tight at his sides. "We need to talk."

Aphrodite set his book down carefully, as though bracing himself. "About that night."

Hermes flinched at the ease with which he said it. "...Yeah."

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The words stuck in his throat, clawing at him like glass. But he forced them out anyway.

"I’m sorry. For what I did to you. For making you cry. For... for confusing you with him. I—" His voice broke. "I can’t forgive myself for it. I don’t know if I ever will. But I needed to say it. I hurt you, and that’s on me."

The silence stretched. Hermes’ heart pounded in his ears, each beat a hammer blow. He half-expected Aphrodite to tell him to leave, to never touch him again.

But Aphrodite only sighed softly. His expression wasn’t anger. It wasn’t even sadness. It was something quieter.

"...I forgive you, Hermes."

Hermes’ chest jolted. "...Why? After what I—"

"Because you already know you did wrong. And because punishing you won’t undo it." Aphrodite pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes downcast.

"The truth is... the reason I avoided you wasn’t because I was angry. It’s because I knew you couldn’t forgive yourself. I thought giving you space was the only kindness I could offer."

Hermes swallowed hard. "So you weren’t... mad at me?"

"No." Aphrodite’s lips curved faintly, sad but sincere. "I was waiting. For this. For you to talk to me."

Hermes stared at him. The meek, quiet bookworm who so often faded into the background. Yet he had seen through him more clearly than anyone else.

His chest ached. Relief, guilt, something else tangled together. He stepped closer. Slowly, cautiously, he reached out, brushing his knuckles against Aphrodite’s cheek.

"...Thank you." he whispered.

Aphrodite leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering shut. "Just stop carrying it alone,ok?"

Hermes bent down, lips meeting his. It was soft. Gentle. No frenzy, no desperation. Just a quiet affirmation that they were still here, together, despite it all.

When they pulled apart, Aphrodite smiled faintly. Hermes thought, for the first time in a long while, that maybe he could smile too.

And then the phone rang.

Aphrodite blinked, startled. He picked it up, adjusting his glasses. "Mother? ...Yes, I’m here."

Hermes watched as the color drained from his face. His grip on the phone tightened, knuckles white.

"What?" His voice cracked. "... Ok. I’ll tell him. He’s with me."

Hermes’ stomach dropped. "What is it?"

Aphrodite lowered the phone, trembling. His eyes brimmed with tears.

"...It’s Elder Thales." His voice was barely audible. "He’s dead."