Hermes Argeiphontes pressed his palm to the oak tree and begged his old power to answer. He had been a god once, messenger of a mountain the world forgot. Now he lived in a rented house, hoarding scraps of strength, trying to prove he still mattered. The tree shivered. Its leaves hardened. Bark turned to bright metal under his hand. He laughed, breathless. The whole tree stood gold and ringing in the wind. Then he heard the gasp behind him. A woman stood at the garden gate. Brown curls, a white dress stitched with gold. Her blue eyes moved from the tree to his hands to his face. She did not run. She stepped closer, like something had pulled her forward. "You did that," she said. "I saw it. You're him. You're really him." Hermes straightened and tried to look ordinary. "It's just paint. A sculpture." "I've studied you my whole life," she said. Her voice shook. "Hermes. I know your face from every carving. Do it again. Please. I need to see it again." This was the exact danger he could not afford. He was weak. One loud mortal with proof could draw a crowd, then cameras, then questions he could not survive while this drained. He glanced past her at the street. Empty. For now. "Who have you told?" he asked. "No one. I just found you." She pulled out her phone. "But people will believe me. I'll show them the tree." His stomach dropped. He crossed the grass in three strides and closed his hand over hers, lowering the phone. Up close she smelled of rain and flowers. She did not pull away. "Listen to me," he said quietly. "If you tell them, they won't worship me. They'll study me. Cut me open to see how the gold works. You love the old stories. Do you want them ending in a lab?" Her face fell. "No. I only wanted the world to know you came back." "Then help me come back the right way," he said. The idea arrived fast and whole. "You know my history better than anyone alive. I need that. I'm not strong enough yet. I can't do this alone." She stared at him. Slowly she set the phone in his open hand. "Then I won't tell. I'll help you instead." Relief flooded him. The threat was gone, folded into a promise. He had turned the one mortal who could expose him into the one who would hide him. But as she smiled up at him, he understood the cost. She had not fallen in love with the stories anymore. She had fallen in love with the god standing in front of her. And now she would never leave his side. He needed her silence and her knowledge. He had just bound himself to a witness who wanted far more than he could give.