~Hades~

Mortals always have a flair for the dramatic, don't they? A hero, a quest, a series of impossible trials—it's as if they're incapable of going a single day without making their lives unnecessarily complicated. Yet here I am, standing among them, disguised as one of their own, because even I cannot resist the lure of a good story.

The Odyssey.

I chose the body of Perimedes for no particular reason other than he seemed... convenient. A minor soldier among Odysseus's crew, barely worth remembering in the grand scheme of things. The man was loyal enough to follow orders but unremarkable in every other way. Perfect. I needed a vessel that wouldn't attract too much attention.

And so, here I am, standing aboard Odysseus's ship, surrounded by the salt of the sea and the stink of unwashed mortals. I'm not sure how these men endure it, but I suppose desperation dulls the senses. The war at Troy has finally ended, but our journey home has only just begun.

Odysseus stands at the bow, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. There's something about him—something that sets him apart from the others. It's not just his cleverness, though that is certainly a part of it. No, it's his sheer force of will. He is a man who refuses to be bested, even by the gods themselves. I admire that about him. It's rare to see such defiance in a mortal.

As the ship cuts through the waves, the men talk among themselves, their voices a mixture of relief and weariness. They've survived the war, but the sea is a new battlefield, one they're ill-prepared for.

I lean casually against the mast, arms crossed, watching them with a faint smirk. "So, Odysseus," I say, breaking the silence, "do you think we'll ever see Ithaca again? Or are we destined to wander the sea until we're old and gray?"

Odysseus turns to me, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Perimedes, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were doubting my leadership."

"Me? Doubt you? Never," I reply, feigning innocence. "I'm just saying, it feels like we've been sailing in circles. You sure Poseidon doesn't have it out for us?"

His smile falters for a fraction of a second, but he recovers quickly. "The gods may test us, but they cannot break us. Remember that."

"Oh, I'll remember," I say, chuckling to myself. "I'll also remember that you owe me a jug of wine when we finally get back."

The men laugh at that, their spirits lifted, if only for a moment. Humor has a way of easing even the heaviest burdens, and I'm nothing if not a connoisseur of wit.

We spot land the next day—a rocky island shrouded in mist. The men cheer, eager for solid ground beneath their feet and a chance to replenish our supplies. Odysseus, ever cautious, orders half the crew to stay with the ship while the rest of us venture ashore.

The island is... underwhelming, to say the least. Sparse vegetation, jagged cliffs, and the distant sound of bleating sheep. Hardly a paradise. But we're desperate, and desperation makes even the unremarkable seem like a treasure.

As we climb the rocky slopes, we come upon a cave, its entrance yawning like the maw of some great beast. The sheep are inside, along with baskets of cheese and clay jars filled with milk. The men's eyes light up at the sight of food, and I can't blame them. It's been days since our last proper meal.

"Let's take what we need and leave," I suggest, my casual tone masking the unease gnawing at my gut. There's something about this place that feels... wrong.

Odysseus, of course, has other ideas. "We'll wait," he says, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "The owner of this cave may have more to offer than just sheep and cheese."

"Or he may have a taste for human flesh," I mutter under my breath. But Odysseus has already made up his mind, and there's no dissuading him.

We don't have to wait long. The ground trembles as the owner of the cave returns—a towering Cyclops with a single, unblinking eye that seems to pierce straight through us. Polyphemus. The son of Poseidon.

The men freeze, their faces pale with fear. Polyphemus doesn't notice us at first, his attention focused on corralling his sheep into the cave. But when he turns, his eye falls upon us, and a slow, sinister grin spreads across his face.

"Strangers," he rumbles, his voice like the grinding of stone. "What brings you to my home?"

Odysseus steps forward, his composure remarkable given the circumstances. "We are travelers, seeking only food and shelter. We mean you no harm."

Polyphemus laughs, a deep, guttural sound that sends a chill down my spine. "No harm? You've already helped yourselves to my sheep and my cheese. Tell me, why should I not crush you where you stand?"

The men cower, but Odysseus remains calm. "Because we can offer you something far more valuable than sheep or cheese." He gestures to the jug of wine we brought with us. "A gift, in exchange for your hospitality."

Polyphemus eyes the jug suspiciously but eventually takes it. He drinks deeply, his lips smacking with satisfaction. "Delicious," he says, his voice slightly slurred. "What is your name, little one?"

"Nobody," Odysseus replies, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "My name is Nobody."

Polyphemus chuckles, the wine clearly taking effect. "Then Nobody will be the last to die."

The fight is brutal. Polyphemus traps us in the cave, his massive frame blocking the entrance. We lose men—good men—under his crushing blows. But Odysseus, ever the strategist, devises a plan.

Using the Cyclops's own club, we sharpen it into a crude but effective spear. While Polyphemus sleeps, his snores echoing through the cave, we drive the spear into his eye, blinding him. His screams are deafening, shaking the very walls of the cave.

In the chaos, we slip past him, clinging to the bellies of his sheep as they flee the cave. It's a desperate, harrowing escape, but we make it. As we sail away, Polyphemus stumbles to the shore, his voice a roar of rage and pain.

"Nobody!" he cries. "Nobody has blinded me!"

Odysseus, unable to resist, shouts back, "It was I, Odysseus of Ithaca, who blinded you!"

I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Really, Odysseus? Was that necessary?"

He grins, clearly pleased with himself. "He'll remember my name."

"Yes," I say dryly, "and so will his father."