“Looks like you’re in a pickle, Sephy.” She looked to her left where Hermes had manifested in all his golden glory, still dressed in armor from their encounter with the Olympians. She had lost track of him on the battlefield, but he had been one of the first to stand with her and against Zeus—he and Apollo. The familiar scent of earthy laurel drew Persephone’s attention, and she turned to see the God of Music on her right. He looked stoic and calm and offered a small smile. “Hey, Seph,” he said. She smiled back. “Hey, Apollo.” “Rude,” said Hermes. “I didn’t get a greeting.” “Hi, Hermes,” she
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