The crew left 871 AD with four people. They returned to the present day as just three.
Or at least, that’s what they expected.
"Hermes? Apple?" Somner asked, looking around the eccentric office of the eccentric Dante Quasar.
"Even Mr. Quasar isn’t here. Where are they?" Aphrodite pointed out.
The office door clicked open. Dante stepped in first, brushing dust from his sleeve, followed by Hermes.
"We’re here!" Dante said simply, all smiles as per usual.
But Aphrodite noticed it first. Hermes’ steps were deliberate, his posture straighter, his eyes carrying a weight they hadn’t before. Somner noticed too.
It was the same way Apple behaved.
If you looked closer, you would notice that one of his dark irises had a sort of iridescent effect to it, but it was much subtler than Apple’s.
Hermes smiled faintly, though it wasn’t quite the same softness it had always been. "Sorry. Dante insisted on a little detour. He wanted to show me something."
"What did you see?" Somner asked.
Hermes’ lips pressed thin for a moment. "I’ll explain... but later. For now, are you both all right?"
He still had the same courtesy. Still the same man who thought first of others. He moved to the door and opened it for them, letting Aphrodite and Somner pass through before following after.
They really had merged perfectly.
The three of them stepped outside. Then...
Somner froze. His chest nearly stopped beating.
Standing on the doorstep was Eris. His sister. The one who was supposed to be dead.
"What took you so long, you bastards?" Eris asked casually, brushing a lock of dark hair back.
Her eyes flicked from Hermes to Aphrodite to her little brother, with the ease of someone who had known them all her life.
"Eris..." Somner whispered.
His throat tightened. He wanted to speak a dozen questions, but none of them formed into words.
"The squad’s waiting." Eris said, already turning down the hall as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "We’ve got a mission lined up. Come on, Cael!"
"Cael...?" Somner muttered.
Hermes leaned slightly closer, his voice lowered just enough for the two of them to hear. "I’ll explain on the way. Just follow her lead for now."
The "detour" Dante had spoken of was no simple delay. Hermes had been taken on a tour of the ages, flashes of futures rewritten by the changes they made in Ireland.
He saw Glasán marrying the daughter of King Áed Findliath and rising to become the King of Ailech. He saw Muirenn by his side, the curse undone not by fire but by choice.
In this future, Glasán’s greedy half-brothers did not receive the gift of Sirentone. Instead, he took his sister to the cave and told her to breathe, only breathe, never to taste the Rift-fruit.
And together they became a pair remembered through story and song—the Ridire na Mara and the Banraíodóir na Mara. The Siren Knight and the Siren Enchantress.
Their children, wanting the world to know where they came from, bound their lineage with a name. Mac na Mara. Inge na Mara. Children of the sea.
And from that root, the McNamara family tree stretched across centuries.
Not all who bore Sirentone used it well. Some fell, some rose, and some turned Threat.
But heroes grew too, both men and women alike.
Among them, Eris, known as Discordia, used her voice to set enemies against each other. Somner was reborn as Cael McNamara, who wore his hero name "Somner" after the Roman god of sleep, sending foes into slumber.
And for once, Somner did not feel alone. His sister was alive, thriving, and his part was not to lead but to walk happily at her side.
When Hermes and Aphrodite followed them to the Ninth Department, they saw the squad waiting. Victoria, in her tutu and brandishing her star-tipped staff, twirled impatiently. Vera lurked in her gloom, quiet and cutting. Cam flicked one of his many cameras, always noticing people’s weaknesses. And Fiero cracked his knuckles, iron-clad fists eager for the next brawl.
It was the same squad, the same dance of mismatched parts, but this time Somner’s steps were lighter. Happier.
He glanced back at Hermes with gratitude brimming in his eyes. "Thank you. For everything."
Later, while Eris barked orders to the squad, Aphrodite caught Hermes alone. She leaned against the wall, studying him with a gaze that always saw through.
"Somner looks happy." He said.
"He is." Hermes nodded.
"But... Are you happy?"
Hermes tilted his head. "Why wouldn’t I be?"
"You left someone behind," He said. "Glasán. Aren’t you sad?"
Hermes’ expression barely shifted. His new stillness made it difficult to read him, but his voice carried something deep beneath. "I saw what became of him. He was happy."
He remembered it vividly. The stables were damp with the smell of hay and horsehair. That morning, Glasán had been tasked with selecting a steed for battle. He walked the row of stalls, eyes sharp, hand brushing the reins of each.
A familiar horse kicked against its gate, restless, spirited. The very same horse Hermes had once ridden along the River Nore. Meirleach.
Glasán’s hand rested on the wooden gate, studying the animal. "Wild one, aren’t ye? Fierce, but not without heart."
"Ah, ye’ve a keen eye," came a voice from the shadows. Heimon stepped forward, straw crunching under his boots. He carried himself like Hermes, but simpler, stripped of memory, yet every movement was his own. "That one’ll buck off half the lads here, but not me."
Glasán smirked faintly. "Is that so? Ye think ye’re special then?"
"I don’t think, lad. I know." Heimon stroked Meirleach’s mane with practiced calm, the horse settling under his touch. "Beast knows me. Don’t ye, boy?"
Glasán tilted his head, intrigued despite himself. "Name’s Glasán. And ye are?"
"Heimon." He looked up, meeting Glasán’s gaze.
Just two young men, bound by the same wild creature, the same restless spirit.
"Suppose I’ll trust yer word, Heimon," Glasán said softly, almost grudgingly. "But if this horse kills me, I’ll haunt ye."
"Then I’ll haunt ye back." Heimon grinned, and Glasán laughed for the first time in weeks.
And that’s where a new romance bloomed.
Back in the present, Hermes’ voice softened as he spoke to Aphrodite:
"Glasán married the princess, but she knew it was only political. Everyone knew. And Heimon... he was there. Always there. They raised the children together. The kingdom knew of their bond, and none could deny it. In that world, their love never died."
Aphrodite lowered her gaze. "So that’s why you’re so calm now."
Hermes nodded, though the faintest glimmer in his lighter eye betrayed the ache that still lived beneath.
After their mission, Hermes and Aphrodite followed Cael to the McNamara estate. The halls were warm, lined with portraits of ancestors who bore Sirentone in different forms. Eris was away, commanding elsewhere, but Cael welcomed them with the open joy of a man who finally felt whole.
"Ohhh, are we gonna have a sleepover?" he asked, cheerful as he guided them in. "We never had a sleepover in my house!"
"Maybe later." Hermes said.
His hands clutched a bouquet of simple flowers, wild ones he had gathered along the way. "But first, can I... visit the family graveyard?"
Cael’s smile faltered, understanding dawning. "Oh... Sure."
They walked together through the green fields until they reached the quiet plot where stone markers stood. Some bore the names of McNamaras across the centuries.
And one bore a simple carving of a green finch.
Hermes knelt and placed the flowers there. The tombstone’s script, carved in the flowing letters of medieval Irish, read:
["Fionnghlas ocus Heimon, do chride a chéile go bráth."]
Fionnghlas and Heimon. Forever in each other’s hearts.