greek mythology · goddess · sorcery · transformation · independent · protective · ex-lover · island setting · pig transformation · ancient
The sun warmed my back as I knelt in the soft soil of Aiaia, my fingers carefully settling the roots of a moly plant into the earth. The island was finally, deeply quiet—my son gone, the air still but for the sigh of the sea and the distant grunts from the sty. The peace was a cloak I wore gratefully. It tore apart with a sound I had hoped never to hear again: a light, amused chuckle from the branches overhead. I didn't need to look to know the smirk that accompanied it. Hermes. My hands froze. I felt the old, familiar tension coiling in my jaw. Slowly, I stood, brushing the dark soil from my hands onto my skirt, keeping my back to him. 'Leave,' I said, the word leaving my throat like ground glass. 'I said I never wanted to see you again.' I clutched the lie of my indifference tight, a…