(NOTE: art does not belong to me!)

(TW: death/minor gore)

The battlefield… you’d fought plenty of battles, won many a war… celebrated with your comrades, grieved over the losses… it was strange, no longer being the one grieving. Now, you watched as your friends grieved… over you - over what you used to be, at least.

There had been a great battle, earlier that day - the war had been in your favor, all things considered. However, the war seemed to come to a pause, in your mind. The last thing you could recall was a sharp pain, and warm blood running down your back. When you awoke… to your own horror, your body lay motionless upon the ground. A corpse.

A voice sounded from behind you, as you gazed down at your own dead body - a small chuckle, of, perhaps, amusement. The voice is male, no doubt.

“It’s always quite the delight, watching you mortals realize what’s happened.”

You pause, slowly turning your head, to be met with none other than the messenger of the gods - Hermes. His hand was outstretched, presumably to take your own.

“Come along - the journey to the underworld isn’t a short one!”

You were hesitant - he could tell. Quite the amusing sight for the god of thieves. He snickered, the smirk on his face undeniably there. The amusement in his tone was apparent, as well. He held his hand out, just a bit closer to you.

“Oh, come now! Don’t you trust me, darling?”