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Clint stared at the ceiling of his darkened room. He’d blacked out almost as soon as he’d gotten home, and his alarm clock told him that it was now 6:00 p.m. —about thirteen hours after he’d gone to bed. His limbs were still heavy from exhaustion and he wanted nothing more than to return to the dark bliss of sleep for another twelve hours. For some reason, though, that promise from Lester kept replaying in his mind. 

“We’ll talk again, I swear it on the river Styx.”

What a strange thing to say. He’d never heard someone swear by the ‘river Styx’ before, though the name tugged at some vague memory as if he’d heard it before in passing. 

It was probably nothing. He told himself sternly The guy had just been struck by lightning. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. 

That happens in strokes, right?

Jesus. The guy had been struck by lightning. Twice. And just brushed it off like it was an everyday occurrence.

Well clearly this train of thought wasn’t leaving the station anytime soon.

He groaned in annoyance and sat up, folding the covers back. He padded out of the bedroom and grabbed a box of leftover pizza before sitting down at the computer.

The harsh blue light from the monitor made him squint and blink, eyes watering, but he signed in and pulled up a new tab. The keys sank satisfyingly beneath his fingers —probably clicking loudly as he typed: “I swear it on the river Styx” into the search bar.

He took a bite of cold pizza, humming happily at the taste. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He wolfed down the rest of the slice as the computer loaded.

When the page was finished he set down his second slice to read it. The top result was “Styx | Greek religion | Britannica” 

Greek religion. Huh. Maybe Lester was a pagan.

He clicked on the link and began reading the text on the next page, now on his third.

Styx, in Greek mythology, one of the rivers of the underworld. The word styx literally means “shuddering” and expresses loathing of death. In Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey, the gods swear by the water of the Styx as their most binding oath. According to Hesiod’s Theogony, if a god perjured himself, he was rendered insensible for a year and then banished from the divine society for nine years. Hesiod personified Styx as the daughter of Oceanus and the mother of Emulation, Victory, Power, and Might. Perhaps because of its similarity to…

He skimmed the rest of the passage, but none of it seemed relevant. 

A Greek god’s binding oath. Clint mused, leaning back in his seat. A year or two ago, he would have immediately dismissed such a ridiculous thought. Then the gods of Norse mythology had turned out to be aliens from another ‘realm’. Was it really so ridiculous to think that Greek gods were something similar?

Clearly he was more durable than the average human. Being struck by lightning twice in as many minutes hadn’t even seemed to phase him. Like, his hair was still stupidly perfect and everything.

He seemed surprised when I mentioned Loki, though. He thought. Then again, Clint had brushed that off as a normal reaction to someone claiming a Norse god had brainwashed them with a spear, but looking back it seemed almost more like he was surprised Clint had said something about it. Like when a little kid says that Santa Claus isn’t real and all the adults around them stop and stare at them.

Then there was that whole business about Loki having ‘autumn colored hair’ and facial scars. The fact that he even gave a physical description for a supposed god named Loki implied that he was familiar with one. Though it was odd that the features were all wrong. He’d seemed genuinely shocked again when Clint had corrected him.

And there was something else that had been odd. When Clint had given him his number, Lester’s face had flushed. But the coloring was off. Instead of his tanned face turning pink, it had almost seemed to get… tanner? More yellow and glowy —like he’d decided to use gold highlighter instead of blush when applying makeup that morning.

Maybe that was a ‘god’ thing?

He opened a new tab and typed out: “greek god blood”, clicking enter with a heavy sigh. 

When the page loaded, he didn’t even have to click onto another page. Right there in the excerpt of the top result was: 

Ichor originates in Greek mythology, depicted as the blood from the Greek gods. Golden in color and fluid in form, is considered a sacred liquid but harmful to mortals.

Golden blood. 

Yellow blush.

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut.

Well that was certainly a strong mark in the favor of Lester secretly being a Greek Deity. God, what even is my life?

He thought through his interactions with Lester. The man —or maybe god, whatever— was a healer. He’d mentioned something when he’d been dealing with the after-effects of Loki’s control, too. Clint thought back to it, trying to remember the exact words. ‘I kind of specialize in warmth and light’, he’d said.

Well. It was worth a try, at least.

Scooting forward again, Clint began typing in his search bar: “Greek god of healing, warmth, light”

“Apollo - Wikipedia”

He clicked on the webpage, dread pooling in his gut as he read the sneak peak.

Apollo[a] is one of the Olympian deities in classical Greek and Roman religion and Greek and Roman mythology. The national divinity of the Greeks, Apollo has been recognized as a god of archery, music and dance, truth and prophecy, healing and diseases, the Sun and light, poetry, and more. One of the most important and complex of the Greek gods, he is the son of Zeus and Leto, and the twin brother of Artemis, goddess of the hunt. Seen as the most beautiful god and the ideal of the kouros (ephebe, or a beardless, athletic youth)

Archery, healing, light… 

Well I’ll be damned. Clint closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands, feeling slightly nauseous.

Apparently he’d met three gods the day before.