CHAPTER 93: SEED TIME

The tavern was quiet by the time Hermes made it back to the servant’s quarters.

Aphrodite had dragged Somner to an inn down the road, muttering something about him "needing a proper bed if he’s going to survive the morning after."

Not that she had much choice. Somner had passed out on the dance floor after ten pints of whatever barley-scented hell the Irish brewed, slurring half-formed complaints about how "me granddaddy gets action with Heimon while I don’t" before face-planting into a fiddler’s chair.

He did, however, have to share a bed with Apple.

It wasn’t unusual here. Heimon and Aible shared a bed, so the locals thought nothing of it. But Hermes felt his skin crawl every time he rolled over and saw that face. His face. His other self. Apple lay flat on his back with those mismatched eyes staring unblinking into the dark, always

awake, never moving unless he chose to.

Hermes hated it for reasons he couldn’t quite put into words. Apple already knew everything about him—every memory, every shame, every secret—because they’d been the same person until recently. Apple knew about those moments. The ones that still caught in Hermes’ throat if he thought about them for too long.

But knowing was one thing. Watching was another.

Glasán didn’t know, of course. Hermes had made sure of that. He’d helped him dress, paid for a private room so he could sleep comfortably. Glasán had asked him. Softly, with that boyish tilt to his head...

"Do you want to stay with me tonight?"

Hermes had smiled, apologetic.

"I can’t... The head maid’ll have my hide if I don’t wake before the sun."

The lie slid down easily. The truth was heavier.

The truth was Apple.

Now, lying in the narrow bed, Hermes stared at the wall and gathered what little courage the drink hadn’t burned away.

"You were watching, weren’t you?"

Apple didn’t even flinch. Just let out a low grunt that was confirmation enough.

Hermes clenched his jaw. "Why?"

A slow breath. A pause.

Then Apple’s voice, low and matter-of-fact: "Why shouldn’t I?"

Hermes rolled his eyes into the dark. "Because it’s called privacy. Because it’s... decent."

Apple didn’t reply at first. The silence stretched until Hermes thought he’d let the matter drop.

Then...

"Why didn’t you put it in him?"

Hermes sat up halfway, his breath catching.

"What? That’s—" He cut himself off, running a hand down his face. "I just told you. Humans keep those things private—"

Apple’s voice cut in clean, quiet, slicing through Hermes’ excuse like a knife:

"Was it because of Eirwyn?"

Hermes froze. His mouth closed.

The dark seemed to thicken around them.

"...Yes," he admitted at last. His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Apple didn’t move. But Hermes could feel it. The weight of those eyes on his back, the same way you could feel a storm pressing against your skin.

"I feel him."

Hermes turned his head, confused. "...What?"

"I feel him," Apple repeated. "Like I feel Somner. Because I’ve had so much of his blood... I can feel him. Not where he is. Not what he sees. But what he feels."

Hermes shook his head. "That’s not—"

"You feel it too," Apple interrupted. "We share everything. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? Feelings that don’t belong to you. Moments of sadness... confusion... Loneliness."

Hermes’ stomach twisted. He wanted to deny it. But there had been moments. Walking down a street, lying in bed, looking at strangers.... Then, a hollow kind of ache would just bloom inside him without warning. Loneliness that tasted foreign.

"...That’s him?"

Apple’s voice didn’t waver. "That’s Eirwyn."

Hermes swallowed, the back of his throat burning. "Why? Why would he—"

Apple shifted, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I have a theory. A part of us is inside him."

Hermes frowned. "You mean my seed?"

Apple didn’t answer right away.

Hermes pressed on, his voice sharpening. "That would’ve... been gone long ago. He would’ve cleaned it out, or his body would’ve—"

"What if that seed bore fruit?"

Hermes blinked at him, incredulous. "B-But we’re both men! You’re saying—"

"I’m saying you’re from the Void." Apple said flatly. "You don’t know how your body works. You can turn into things based on what you consume. You share powers through your fluids. You can shape flesh with a thought. Is it really so far-fetched to think you could create life inside a man?"

Hermes stared into the dark. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to tell him it was impossible. But the words wouldn’t come.

His mind sank under the weight of it, every thought growing heavy and sluggish until sleep dragged him under.

And then...

That dream.

***

The dream began in silence.

Hermes stood on a shoreline that had no end, the sky above swollen with a low-hanging moon that pulsed like a slow heartbeat. The tide lapped at his ankles, though the water was black as ink, and every wave felt warm against his skin.

From the mist, Eirwyn emerged. Barefoot, hair damp, wearing loose white linen as though he had just come from bed. In his arms, he held something swaddled in pale cloth, rocking it with a tenderness Hermes had never seen on his face before.

"There you are," Eirwyn said softly, smiling in a way that made Hermes’ stomach knot. "I’ve been waiting for you to come home."

He stepped closer, the water never rising past his calves no matter how far he walked. "You’ve been gone for so long. The little one’s missed his Daddy."

Hermes’ breath caught. "What...?"

"Our child," Eirwyn said, as though the words were obvious. "The piece of you that you left with me... I nurtured it. I cared for it. Just like a good spouse should."

His voice lowered, almost a whisper. "We’re a family now."

He peeled back the cloth.

Nestled inside was something small, wet, and breathing. Its hair was tangled like seaweed, its skin the pale tone of Hermes’ own. But its eyes....

One caramel brown like Eirwyn, one pitch black like Hermes... seemed far older than they should be.

It blinked once, and water trickled from its lashes.

The little mouth opened, not in a smile, but to release a stream of water. Then came the sound.

Not a baby’s cry, but a gargled wail, the sound of someone drowning.

Eirwyn kissed the creature’s damp forehead. "He has your handsome face. And my eyes. You should be proud."

He looked up at Hermes with a glow that was almost... domestic. "We’ll raise him together. I’ll cook and clean. You can hunt and keep us safe. Isn’t that wonderful, darling?"

Hermes stumbled back, but the sand beneath his feet gave way, sucking him down until the water was at his knees.

Eirwyn stepped forward, extending the bundle.

"Come on, Daddy." He coaxed in a singsong tone. "Hold him. He’s always hungry. Just like you were."

The child reached for him with a hand too large for its body, fingers long and boneless, curling toward Hermes’ chest.

The tide surged higher. And there was nowhere to run.