[center][color=pink][h2]Tyler Hartley[/h2][/color][/center]
[center]Successor of Aphrodite | Loc: Tyler’s Room, Los Angeles, California USA | Tags: Open[/center]

Tyler Hartley had spent the last ten minutes staring at the mirror on his bed. It was pink and gold, very beautiful, and definitely not something he had owned before the incident happened. That was the problem. Well. One of the problems.

The other problems included the Sirens at the brand launch, the people who had walked toward them like they wanted to die, the voice of Aphrodite in his head, and the very casual announcement that the Titans were apparently trying to escape Tartarus.

Tyler sat on the edge of his bed in yesterday’s outfit, his blond hair a mess and his phone buzzing nonstop beside him. Missed calls. Texts. Notifications. People asking if he was okay. People asking what had happened. People tagging him in shaky videos from the event. He had not opened any of them. Instead, he stared at the mirror.

“Okay,” he said slowly, pointing at it. “So either I’m having the worst stress response anyone has ever had, or Greek mythology is real.”

The mirror, unhelpfully, reflected him back.

Tyler frowned. “Right. Great. Love that for me.”

Aphrodite’s words replayed in his head. “Find the others. Trust your intuition.”

Tyler scoffed. “Yeah, that’s really helpful… No offense,” he muttered, though he was not sure whether gods could hear offense from several miles away, “but that is terrible advice.”

For a few seconds, nothing happened. No voice from the heavens. No dramatic gust of wind. No goddess appearing in his bedroom to clarify the instructions. Which, honestly, would have been rude but at least useful.

Tyler waited anyway. The mirror remained a mirror. “Fantastic,” he said. “Love a vague queen.”

He leaned back on his hands and stared up at the ceiling. His room looked the same as it always did. Clothes he had meant to put away. Skincare lined up on his dresser. A pair of shoes near the closet. A half-empty water bottle on the nightstand. Completely normal, except for the magical hand mirror sitting on his bed and the fact that his entire understanding of reality had apparently been fake.

His phone buzzed again. Tyler glanced at it, saw another notification, and immediately looked away. He could not deal with people right now. Which was a strange thing for him to think, considering people were sort of his whole thing.

Then he felt it. Not a voice. Not a vision. Just a weird feeling. Tyler sat up slowly. It was faint at first, barely more than a thought that did not feel like his own. A vague sense of direction. Something was tugging at him.

He stared at the mirror. “No.”

The feeling did not go away.

“No,” he repeated, louder this time. “Absolutely not. I am not following mysterious magical vibes. That is how people die in horror movies, and I have excellent survival instincts when I’m not being attacked by evil mermaids.” Sirens. They had been Sirens. He hated that he knew that now.

Tyler pressed a hand to his forehead. “Oh my god.” Then he paused. “Sorry. Gods. Whatever.” He picked up the mirror carefully, like it might bite him. “I said no,” he told it.

The pull remained.

Tyler closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He had auditions he was supposed to follow up on. Messages to answer. Probably at least one brand contact wondering if he was alive in a way that was less about concern and more about whether the sponsored post was still going up. He had a life. A messy, stressful, deeply curated life, but it was his.

And yet. Somewhere out there, there were others. Other Successors. Other people who had apparently been dragged into this nightmare with equally terrible explanations.

Tyler opened his eyes. “Oh, I hate this. Ugh, fine!” He stood, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, then stopped and looked down at himself. Yesterday’s outfit was wrinkled, his hair was a disaster, and he looked like the before picture.

He turned toward the mirror on instinct. Then caught himself. “No,” he said sharply. “We are not fixing our hair before answering the call of destiny.” 

He looked at his reflection. Who was he kidding? Of course he was. “Okay. Maybe just a little.”