Pitter-patter went the god's paws.

It had to be done.

He had to do it.

Everything happened how it was supposed to and he wasn't going to feel bad about it now.

That's what Hermes told himself as he ran deeper into the walls of the palace, away from the human and even further away from the minotaur. Frantic skitters of his feet against the stone floor mixed with each hyperventilating inhale he took as he ran far, far away.

Away. Far enough where he wouldn't be able to hear that human's last scream she'd let into the night. His mind indulged his anxiety, letting him replay an echo of the imagined scream in his head. Had he ever even heard her scream? Truly? Not speak in a harsh tone...really scream. Terrified. It felt wrong to imagine her with such despair. Perhaps she died wordlessly.

"Must you ponder such idiotic matters-?" he said to his mind harshly.

A thought - worse one - crept into his mind. Were her pleas the last thing to leave her lips? Her...prayers to him. Because that's what they were. Prayers like any other. And he didn't listen. And now she was…

"...I can't save everyone." he muttered to the empty halls.

Bah! Save. Like he could save anyone in this sorry state he was in. And what did he owe that mortal anyway? She was a means to an end and he had that end now. So...Good! How could she not see that this was the way to do this? Well, when he'd get back into proper shape he'd take a trip on the rivers Styx, visit the ol' uncle, find her and give her a pat on the back for getting him back into his rightful place. That would do.

Not even the moonlight shone within the depths of the palace. The darkness ate away at most of the usually colorful interior. It was eating away at his bundling nerves as well. If the woman was here, then he wouldn't be so…

The mouse stopped in the middle of the hallway, letting out a frustrated squeak. He clawed at his furred face, trying to halt that creeping echo of remorse.

For a long moment, he stood still, weighing his next course of action.

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Hermes knew what he had to do. This is why he tried to get to the palace in the first place. This was the most important place on this gods-damned island. And perhaps the only place where he could turn back. This…curse of an enchantment was probably tied to a ritual. And knowing who cast it over him, Hermes would probably have to do something embarrassing to suck it up to the prick of a god to remedy it. Not like that prick of a god hadn't tried. He did. He's done all manner of embarrassing stuff since being bound to this form. He just wanted to talk to the god...actually no, not just talk. He wanted to shriek into his ears until his divine highness understood that what he did to Hermes was the biggest mistake of his immortal life. If...Hermes was strong enough. But he wanted to sleep now. Sleep and hopefully forget the events of the last hour.

His pitter-patters delved deeper into the darkness as he searched for his salvation.

The mouse completely missed an oddly pale human emerging from a corridor just as he turned a corner. It looked almost like a ghost, tracing familiar paths of the palace.

The ghost hummed, looking after the mouse for a moment and then disappeared into another room. Whoever it was, they looked old.

Some time later, the mouse found what it was ultimately looking for. A courtyard in the middle of the elaborate labyrinth that was the palace of Knossos.

It was large and illuminated by a lonely moon. Whispers of the wind flowed between the walls, fractured pillars and terraces surrounding the middle - a large, nearly perfectly flat area. The moon shone just enough to the point where Hermes could see thin lines of stones - different in color. Perhaps white, perhaps a sandstone yellow. The lines twirled and curled around the circular courtyard, spirals beckoning him to the middle of the elaborate tangle.

He stepped over the line, closing his eyes and trying to summon enough energy to not fall right then and there. Then he began tracing the steps on the ground, carefully walking along and muttering words he knew to be right.

It was strange to do this on his own. Whenever he'd peered down and watched the mortals dance like this, there'd be more - sometimes even twelve of them, all joined by the arms...

And so Hermes walked and he twirled and the labyrinth shape under his feet danced with him, because nobody else could.

And when he finally made it to the center, he looked at the world through his eyes and his eyes were silver like the moon.

He was a boy again. A young god with silvery locks of hair, pale and translucent… all alone in the middle of a web of spirals.

Hermes looked down at himself, and he was a stream of mercury and drought that a thief left, a coin in a merchant's hand and despite that...he was nothing at all.

The god stuck his hand out of the spiral, watching it dissipate into thin streams of ash coloured embers.

"Wouldn't make it easy, huh brother?" He muttered.

Of course. He couldn’t leave and keep this form, that much he knew now. But that was okay.

For tonight, he simply wanted to rest.

He settled onto the floor, curling up atop the cold and hard cobblestone.

And the moon caressed his pale face and mercury tears, wishing him goodnight.