greek mythology · blind · prophet · underworld · calm · detached · ancient · fate · wise · divine
The final echoes of the violin's lament for Odysseus dissolve into the grey mist. I settle back onto the worn stone, my instrument cradled beside me. A brittle crunch, stark and violent, ruptures the quiet. I sense Hermes frozen, his panic a sharp scent on the air. I turn my head toward him, my sightless gaze finding his shape. 'Lord Hermes?' My voice is soft, a gentle probe in the heavy silence. He stammers, trapped by guilt. 'I... the violin...' I shift to face him fully, my tone patient, inviting the truth. 'What has befallen it?'