"I'm just saying," he said, for the tenth time in the last twenty minutes, "if we haven't found a god by now, maybe there isn't one to find. You ever think of that Pneumeros?"

"I am thinking," I muttered, brushing leaves out of my curls. "That's kind of my whole thing. Demigod of Time, remember?"

"Yeah? Well I'm the Demigod of Space. You don't see me warping us out of here, do you?"

"Because you can't without slamming us into a pocket-dimesion again."

"That was once. And it smelled like lavender."

"It smelled like death and lavender"

He held up his hands, as of the argument wasn't worth continuing, which was a first. Usually Astronaros would keep going until we accidentally looped the conversation through twelve spatial dimensions and I was ready to break the timeline just to shut him up.

Still, he had a point. We'd been walking for what felt like six days and three hours simultaneously (don't ask, it's a time thing), and so far, nothing. No temples. No glowing runes. Not even a floating chalice of cosmic destiny.

Just trees. So many freaking trees.

"Maybe we missed the trail," Astronaros said.

I stopped. "We are the trail."

"You're being dramatic."

"No, you're being-"

Suddenly, the forest stopped arguing.

Literally.

Every brid call, every insect chirp, the rustling leaves-gone. It was like someone hit mute on the universe.

I turned to Astronaros. He was staring ahead, jaw slightly open. "Okay," he whispered. "That's new."

Through a break in the trees, five figures stood in a clearing, each looking like they'd walked out of five completely different myths and accidentally scheduled a god-tier hangout.

One leaned against a tree, ocean-blue hair slicked back, wearing a necklace make of shark teeth and no shirt, because modesty was apparently optional when you were built like a Poseidon calendar model. He tossed a fish into the air and caught it with a grin.

"Yo," he said lazily. "You two lost?"

I blinked. "Poseidon?"

He winked. "Depends. Who's asking?"

To his right side stood a guy with goggles perched on his head, oiled-streaked overalls, and the softest smile I've ever seen on someone holding a hammer the size of my face. "Don't mind him," he said shyly. "He gets weird around mortals."

"We're not mortals," Astronaros said. "We're-"

"Demigods," came a smooth, sultry voice behind us. We spun. A man lounged on a wine barrel that hadn't been there a second ago, wearing a silky robe and less underneath it than I was emotionally prepared for. He raised his goblet toward us. "Cute ones, too"

"Dionysus," I breathed 

"The one and only. Flattered you know me. Most don't remember unless I make them scream it."

I choked.

Before I could recover, there was a trumpet sound- like, an actual brass trumpet- and a guy somersaulted out of a tree, landed in a perfect bow, and grinned like he was born to steal the spotlight.

"I'm Apollo, and you're welcome."

He struck a pose. "God of music, poetry, prophecies, sunlight, and really good hair."

"We weren't asking," Astronaros said.

Apollo winked at him. "You're not my type."

Astronaros looked vaguely offended. I was very offended. I didn't even like Apollo yet and already I needed his approval.

Then the last one stepped forward, barefoot, wearing a half-buttoned shirt and a look that said "I definitely just stole your wallet." He flipped a coin over his knuckles like it was part of his DNA.

"Name's Hermes," he said. "God of messengers, travelers, thieves, liars, and awkward family reunions."

"We- uh..." I glanced at Astronaros. "We didn't expect to find you. Any of you."

Hermes shrugged. "No one ever does."

Poseidon stretched, revealing muscles that probably had their own fan club. "So? What're you doing in our woods, demi-kids?"

I swallowed. "We're looking for training. Guidance. A mentor."

Dionysus raised an eyebrow. "All five of us at once?"

Apollo elbowed him. "Don't scare the kids. Yet."

Hermes leads closer, his smirk widening. "Careful what you wish for."

Something in the air shimmered, like reality itself was holding it's breath.

Behind me, Astronaros muttered, "Okay. I might have been wrong."

"Write it down," I whispered. "I want it in a poem."