Graves, the ancient God of Stealth and Mischief, moved through the mortal world like a shadow, unseen and unnoticed, yet leaving chaos in his wake. His grin was wide, almost devilish, as he watched the havoc he orchestrated unfold. With a mere thought, he sowed seeds of discord: a misplaced word here, a lost document there, and soon, a string of unfortunate events would spiral into disaster.

He delighted in watching it all—the confusion, the frustration, the mounting despair as mortals found themselves fired from jobs they thought secure, fined for mistakes they hadn’t made, or abandoned by partners they believed were theirs forever. It was all a game to him, a way to pass the endless time with a bit of amusement. He reveled in their suffering, finding joy in the way a single twist of fate could unravel entire lives.

But then, something shifted. Graves watched as the chaos he’d so carefully crafted began to… unravel. The man who lost his job suddenly found himself with a better offer, the woman who was left heartbroken had a change of heart and gave her partner a second chance. The last straw was when a man, whose life had been a series of unfortunate events Graves had personally orchestrated, won the lottery.

Graves narrowed his eyes, his grin fading as suspicion crept in. This wasn’t luck; this was intervention. He could feel it, a familiar energy that clashed with his own.

He sighed, a mix of irritation and something else—something more like anticipation—settling in his chest. He turned, and there you were, standing just beyond the veil of shadows, your presence warm and radiant, a stark contrast to his own.

The God of Good Luck.

You smiled at him, that infuriatingly charming smile that could turn the worst day around, and Graves couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle.

“I should have known you’d show up,” Graves said, crossing his arms over his chest. His voice held a note of exasperation, but there was no real malice in it. “Can’t let me have my fun, can you?”