The midday sun of Greece beat heavily down upon the untold thousands, persons from across the face of the world, tourists gathered from near and far to come and marvel at the wondrous spectacle that was the Parthenon perched atop the Athenian acropolis; though it stood but a shadow of its former self, a mere carcass of what it had once been in glory days long forgotten, there was no denying that there was [i]something[/i] there that drew all these people to it even after centuries past. Perhaps it was simply the architecture, Ionian columns standing firm and proud, freizes adorning the roof, or maybe it was the sense of history produced when one listened close enough to the stones of the structure? Yes, if you were to listen then you would hear the very breath of the building once dedicated to the patron goddess of Athens - great and wise Athena Pallas herself - or so it was said.

A lone figure could be seen sitting on one of many rocks leading up toward one of the greatest tourist attractions on Earth, like so many others he was dressed for the weather; his mane of curling black hair, tied back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, having a wide-brimmed bush hat perched atop it that also shaded his features, while his ever-watchful eyes were concealed behind a pair of sunglasses. Beneath the finely trimmed beard a smile appeared, creasing his middle-aged features, tanned brown by constant sunlight but keeping something of a rugged handsomeness in his face, his toned but not overly muscular body concealed by the world wide travellers favourite clothing of a simple t-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, a pair of sandals being all he wore upon his dust dried feet.

All-in-all, were one to look in his direction, they would see a reasonably attractive man of middle age and healthy body, holding in one hand a small notepad and in the other a hiking stick of gnarled wood taken from an olive tree. They might even think that there was a certain something about him, though they could not tell what.

Hermes, known as Mercurius to the Romans, as a messenger angel by the Christians, and who had taken the human name 'Hermon Sostias', had been watching the procession of wanderers advance up the acropolis for hours on end and had oddly not tired from it. Sat here, half-way up the path from the bottom of the acropolis, he eyed the small Christian chapel of stone that had been thrown up nearby with a sigh and the slightest shake of his head. It had been hard for all of them when their time was done, when those that had once believed ceased to call on their favour or give sacrifice unto them, only Mithras and Isis - a goddess older even than Zeus, his father - standing alone against the might of Jehovah when his cult has swollen and bloated into something altogether different from its origins; a sad turn of events caused not by the triple-faced God, but by the hands and minds of men.

There were other, smaller, structures set up by other religions at the sides of the path; a Hindu shrine, one with the contended figure of the Buddha looking out, even one by a group who claimed themselves as modern day worshipers of he and his kindred! Ah, religion...an interesting subject to be sure, but not the reason he was here.

It had been over a year ago that he had began feeling the pull back toward the Parthenon, a focal point for worship in the Classical age and one that still resonated with power, but little had he known then what he must do or why; he had not known that things were being set in motion that could change the course of the world, that could even see his brothers and sisters returned to their full power, something he knew many of them still yearned for. Of course, it would not be without consequences - nothing ever was when it came to celestial matters - and but two weeks ago he had returned to Greece, his ancestral land, even visiting the psychical Mount Olympus; it was not [b]the[/b] Olympus, that was far from mortal hands on a different plane of existence entirely, but he could see why many may have thought they dwelt there in a time before advanced science and technology had shattered any illusions.

Now he was here, charged to await those that would follow in his footsteps, being in the unique position of having retained all his powers when others had not. How had he retained them? By finding employ with God! For he was a heavenly courier and deity of travellers, and to have spent the remainder of his immortal life without being able to continue his assigned role, it was unthinkable and he would never have had it so. That, and he was required by heavenly mandate never to use his powers outside of his duties.

Sadly for Heaven, that was precisely what he soon intended to do - the others were coming, and they would be here soon.