Hermes slipped silently through the crowded streets of the human city, a messenger between worlds. His latest task was simple: deliver a message to a mortal noble. But the god of transitions and mischief was never one for simple tasks.

As he weaved past merchants and street performers, a snippet of gossip caught his keen ears — whispered behind a veiled stall. “They say the emperor’s chosen a slave girl to wed,” a woman murmured, “because of her rare beauty… A mere servant, now to be empress.”

Hermes’ grin widened. A slave girl rising to the throne? That sounded like the kind of story that bent the rules — and he loved bending rules.

Curiosity piqued, Hermes dropped his official task like a forgotten coin and vanished in a blink. Moments later, he reappeared near the palace gardens, where servants moved like shadows and guards stood tense.

Invisible to mortal eyes, Hermes slipped closer, eager to see this beauty that had stirred the city’s whispers. Through the carved marble gates, he spotted the girl — humble but radiant, her eyes bright with fear and wonder. The emperor, imposing and grand, was speaking to her, his voice low but insistent.