Chapter 21: Thief
Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
- William Shakespeare.
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Instead, Apollo found himself reclining upon the lush green fields of central Greece, his gaze unwaveringly fixed upon the vast expanse of the blue and crystalline heavens. Beneath the veil of concealment, he beheld a host of angels audaciously soaring through his father's realm.
They barely spared him a glance, their attention fleeting and dismissive, barely recognising his existence. But in the midst of the host, a figure emerged, guiding them forward. This person had eyes as dark and profound as an endless abyss, and it was he who met Apollo's gaze head-on, nodding in acknowledgment.
His name was Azazel.
Apollo returned the nod with a faint smile, and Azazel soared into the horizon alongside the other angels.
He didn't bother to fix his attention on them, for he hadn't come here for them. He sought someone very special, someone whose thread of fate had just been born but was already weaving around him, vibrant and mischievous with laughter.
But the name Azazel does ring a lot of bells, doesn't it? Apollo knew he was a fallen angel who went on to rule Hell with Lucifer and Beelzebub in Sandman. But this world—his world—was not just Sandman, or Vertigo, or Percy Jackson, or just an amalgamation of mythologies. He wasn't really sure, but it was somewhere in between, and that unknown was all the more dangerous.
The thing he was trying to convey was that Azazel turned out to be completely different from what he had expected. First and foremost, Azazel wasn't a fallen angel; instead, he was still a loyal servant of God. But even that wasn't really surprising. What truly caught him off guard was the fact that Azazel was incredibly kind, appreciative, and deeply passionate about humans. He was so dedicated to them that he even left the Silver City for their sake.
Pretty shocking, right? Those were Azazel's own words when he spoke to Apollo. However, the God of Truth couldn't be entirely certain if Azazel was telling the truth, given the group he had joined in order to get closer to humanity.
That group was known as the Grigori, or, in simpler terms, the Watchers. They were a host of angels created by God to act as earthly shepherds for human civilization. Their primary role was to serve as a vast reservoir of information on the finer points of civilization. They were called the Watchers because it was their duty to observe humanity, lending a helping hand when necessary but refraining from interfering in the natural course of human development.
Well, that's pretty much what his teacher dropped on him during one of their classes on various pantheons. Needless to say, he was taken aback when his teacher told him all about them always being around in the world, even in their own pantheon's territory. He hadn't felt even a hint of their existence, so you can imagine his disbelief. In her usual no-nonsense, strict teacher tone, she satisfied his curiosity by explaining that the Almighty had equipped the Watchers with the power of Concealment to ensure they carried out their duties without interference or intercession.
Nothing involving God was ever ordinary, and the Concealment of the Watchers was no exception. It possessed a cosmic essence, and to truly grasp its power, allow him to share one of its renowned abilities: you could only sense the Watchers after discovering their existence, and once you did so, they would become aware of your knowledge about them as well.
But fret not, as his teacher had made it clear with a warning tone that they wouldn't bother you unless you bothered them.
Apollo held a rather complex opinion of them. What was truly more strange was that the mere mention of their name often filled him with a sense of foreboding. Usually, he would resort to divination methods in such circumstances, but their Concealment rendered such approaches futile, effectively blocking all forms of divination and prying.
Nevertheless, his teacher's words proved true; they didn't bother him even after they realised he could perceive them. However, everything changed when Apollo completed his tower and began spreading his teachings through his faith. It was then that the dark-eyed angel, Azazal, approached him.
Apollo welcomed and hosted Azazal in his tower. Their meeting was enlightening as they exchanged their opinions on humanity and civilization. However, they didn't agree on everything, leading to a clash of opinions. In those moments, Apollo clearly saw the truth: Azazel didn't consider guiding humans as just a duty like other angels should, but was truly passionate about them, and Apollo admired that about him. Honestly, they hit it off surprisingly well. Azazal turned out to be nothing like what Apollo had expected from an angel. He seemed remarkably human, which perhaps explained why he eventually fell in the stories.
Yet Azazel failed to sway Apollo's overall opinion of the watchers. He wasn't alone in this stance; everyone who was aware of their existence shared it. Even his father held strong indignation towards them, but ultimately, they were powerless to change the situation. And there was that lingering sense of foreboding that Apollo had yet to fully explore.
Maybe I should turn to Destiny for guidance, Apollo mused, rubbing his chin in deep contemplation. But knowing him, he'll only reveal what's meant to be. He let out a discontented sigh. This was a genuine dilemma, and there seemed to be no easy way out.
With a sigh, he rose from the lush green grass, feeling a sense of restlessness. He figured it was worth a shot to seek guidance from Destiny, even if the odds of getting any answers seemed slim. If nothing else, he could always turn to Delirium, but who knew when she'd be back? Lately, she seemed consumed by her fascination with fairies, and he could only hope they survived her unpredictable curiosity.
But for now, those thoughts would have to wait. The person he had come for was approaching, completely unaware of his presence.
Across the verdant fields, a peculiar sight unfolded before him. It was a baby, walking on two legs, of all things, and to make it even stranger, he held a leash connected to a herd of cows. With astonishing ease, he guided and pulled them along. The baby's blue eyes were sharp and alert, taking in his surroundings as he made his way towards a cave in Mount Cyllene.
Apollo materialised abruptly, startling the baby and causing him to stumble backward. The cows, sensing Apollo's arrival, let out urgent and desperate moos. The baby, shaken and alarmed, instinctively positioned himself in front of the herd, extending his small, chubby hands as if to shield the very same animals he had intended to slaughter and feast upon in the face of Apollo's looming and imposing presence.
Apollo approached the baby, his steps purposeful and his gaze intense. He squatted down, positioning himself right in front of the infant, whose eyes remained averted, unable to meet his piercing, fiery golden gaze. It was clear that the baby already recognised Apollo's true nature. With a sly smirk on his face, Apollo gestured towards the surrounding herd, his hands moving gracefully as he released a calming energy that pacified their agitation. "Well, well," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look at what we have here." He stroked his chin, narrowing his eyes as he focused on the baby. "A little thief attempting to pilfer from none other than the All-Seeing One—Oh, what a folly! The Muses will certainly revel in crafting your fables."
The baby locked eyes with Apollo, defying his own instincts. Anger and indignation swelled in his puffed cheeks. "You're wrong," he said with surprising fluency, although his voice quivered with the fragility of a newborn. "Whether it is a folly remains to be seen."
"Interesting!" Apollo grinned, his eyes lighting up. "Tell me more."
The baby's expression shifted into one of surprise, clearly taken aback.
"What?" Apollo's grin faltered for a moment. "Wasn't this what you were after, you little thief?"
The baby finally began to feel uneasy, fidgeting nervously in place. After a brief moment, he gathered his courage and addressed Apollo, "I am Hermes, son of Zeus and Maia. I am your brother, Apollo. And as a gesture of kinship, I offer you this Lyre," he raised his hand, materialising an instrument crafted from tortoise shell. "as payment for the—"
Apollo immediately grabbed the instrument, examining it scrutinizingly. "You created this?"
"Yes," Hermes nodded with a sly and proud smile, but his eyes widened as he witnessed his creation undergo a remarkable transformation in Apollo's grasp.
Apollo raised his hand, and an iridescent aura enveloped the instrument. Slowly, the tortoise shell began a miraculous metamorphosis, its dull surface morphing into resplendent gold.
The instrument shed its previous earthy tones, now gleaming with a mesmerising golden radiance that seemed to capture the essence of light itself. Exquisite engravings adorned its body, intricately depicting scenes of mythological grandeur. The ordinary and unremarkable strings transformed into ethereal strands of golden essence, and its shape underwent a subtle refinement, with its curves becoming more elegant and harmonious. It was as if the very soul of music had infused the instrument, elevating it to an entirely new level of artistry and craftsmanship.
"Oh!" Hermes exclaimed, his eyes gleaming like stars, captivated by the transformed instrument. "How did you do that?"
"Simple," Apollo indulged his curiosity, a hint of amusement in his voice. "I just willed it to happen."
"Willed?" Hermes tilted his head in awestruck wonder. "Can you teach me how?"
"Teach you?" Apollo chuckled condescendingly, putting the lyre in the light of his robe. "No, little thief, I don't think so."
"But—but—" Hermes stammered.
"But what?" Apollo interrupted, "It's an impressive instrument, and I'll even admit you have some talent for the arts, but do you honestly believe this alone will make up for thievery?"
"So it's not enough?" Hermes asked innocently as he conjured a long wooden pipe adorned with multiple holes on top. "Then what about this?" he continued, presenting his latest creation, a flute. "I believe it will suit you even better than my previous offering."
Apollo's lips twitched at the flute. He fought back the growing urge to accept it, maintaining an impartial gaze as he glanced down at Hermes. "You've certainly planned it out, haven't you? Sneaking away with my cows in the dead of night, covering your tracks so I wouldn't find you, preparing your bribes just in case I did—a true thief, that's what you are. And that's all that needs to be said," he declared, a smile forming as he scanned Hermes from head to toe. "I'm taking you to Olympus to face trial before all the gods."
"But," Hermes stumbled back, "You are my brother!"
"So?" Apollo snapped his fingers nonchalantly, teleporting the herd back to his temple in a burst of light. "Come on now; it is time to face punishment." He extended his hand kindly, beckoning Hermes.
Hermes glanced back at the receding cows, clutching the flute tightly in his hands. "I knew I was wrong, but I was so hungry, and I thought... I thought these instruments would be enough." He gazed up at Apollo, his eyes clouded with confusion. "I made them especially for you... Mother said you were kind, that you were my brother, and that you would protect us from the Queen of Gods... I still don't fully grasp what she meant, but I understand that you're my brother, so I thought you would accept me. But... but you're different." Tears welled up in his eyes as he blinked. "You're mean!" he shouted, plopping down on the ground and bawling his eyes out, crying with all his might.
"Oh, no, no, no!" Apollo's exclamation erupted from deep within him; his voice was tinged with genuine worry as he kneeled before his baby brother. The once-bright glow of his smile dimmed, replaced by a surge of panic that coursed through his veins. "Please, don't cry," he pleaded softly, the anguish in his heart palpable. He scolded himself for forgetting that, despite being a god, Hermes was still an infant. "I was just joking, brother," he confessed, his voice filled with regret. With utmost tenderness, he gathered Hermes into his arms, cradling him gently. "I never intended to take you to Olympus, but let your mother handle you. It was only a playful trick, nothing more. Please don't cry..."
As if on cue, Hermes abruptly ceased his tears, fixing his mischievous gaze upon Apollo, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Ha! I've got you, brother!"
Apollo's surprise locked him in place, his eyes transfixed on his brother's teary eyes. Yet, within Hermes' smile, there was something more than mere mischief. His words carried a weight of truth, exposing the depth of his trickery. It was an unexpected revelation, for truth could be the best form of deception. Instead of exposing him, a proud smile curled upon Apollo's lips as he lifted Hermes up into the vast expanse of the sky. "You have truly managed to fool me, the All-Seeing One."
Hermes puffed his cheeks, a glow of happiness and triumph replacing his tears. "Yes, I did, didn't I?" he replied, his embarrassment now tinged with a blush. "But could you please put me down? I'm not exactly enjoying being held like this," he added, his voice slightly muffled.
Apollo chuckled, gently placing Hermes back on his feet. He then bent down, picking up a handful of sand from the ground. With his willpower, he manipulated the particles of sand, watching as it transformed into a magnificent silver staff. At its pinnacle, wings resembling those of a dove sprouted gracefully, while two snakes coiled around each other, spinning and weaving in perfect harmony.
"What's this?" Hermes gazed at the staff with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue. "Is this meant for me?"
Apollo nodded and handed the staff to Hermes, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "Here's Caduceus. Consider it a reward for your clever trickery, which even fooled me. But remember, brother, this staff represents not just your deception but so much more. May you uncover them all someday."
Hermes accepted the staff; his face was a mixture of solemnity and childlike wonder. As his tiny hands closed around it, the serpents that coiled around the staff came to life, wriggling and twisting in a mesmerising display. His surprise was evident as he exclaimed, "Oh, they're alive!" Yet he held onto the Caduceus tightly, his gaze fixed on the intelligent eyes of the serpents, captivated by their presence.
Apollo's smile widened as he fixed his gaze on the snakes, carefully examining his own handiwork. "They're young and wise, just like you. Take good care of them because now they're your companions," he remarked with a hint of pride.
"Can they talk?" Hermes, curious as ever, couldn't help but ask.
"No, they shouldn't be able to—at least not yet," Apollo replied, deep in thought. "But you can teach them. They should pick it up easily."
"Thanks, brother," Hermes beamed. "I really love this!" He handed the long pipe instrument to Apollo. "And here, take the flute. As I said, it will suit you perfectly."
"No doubt about that," Apollo smiled, accepting the instrument that immediately transformed to match his style. With a satisfied look, he motioned for Hermes. "Come, I'll take you back to your mother. I've got a few things to discuss with her."
Hermes walked alongside Apollo towards his home, his voice tinged with nervousness. "You're not still thinking about telling her, are you, brother?"
Apollo simply smiled. "Speaking of that, we still haven't dealt with your hunger," he said, causing Hermes to forget all about his thieving ways.
"Are you going to cook something for me?"
"No, I'm planning on reaching out to our aunt. She's the best in the domain; she'll take care of you effortlessly."
"I can't wait."
"You'll love her."
"Can I also transform things like you?"
"Of course."
"Can you teach me, then?"
"Teach you? Hmmm, let's see."
"Is that yes or no?"
"I haven't decided."
"Is transformation hard?"
"First off, it's actually called transmutation, and it's a complex process with different levels. The further you advance, the more challenging it becomes."
"What level have you reached?"
"I've reached a point where I can turn inanimate objects into living creatures."
"So that's how you brought those snakes to life. Are you capable of creating other beings as well? That's incredible!"
"Yes, but it's also risky. One small mistake or momentary lapse of concentration during the process could unleash unimaginable consequences, like opening Pandora's box."
"Pandora's box?"
Apollo and Hermes strolled on, their conversation flowing effortlessly beneath the starry night sky, the celestial glow casting a warm radiance upon their faces.
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