switched on in a dark room, making you more aware of your surroundings and the weight of your decisions. It was as if you could see the threads of consequence more clearly, allowing you to anticipate and consider the outcomes of your actions more accurately.

Just then, a voice shouted, "Dibs! I call next!" Before you could even blink, Hermes was leaving his seat, not content to stay put like the others. He jumped up, flying over the assembly; his winged sandals fluttered as he grinned mischievously.

Once he reached you, Hermes couldn't resist a comment about your stature. "I'm not saying you're not powerful, but you're so tiny I could fit you in my pocket," he chuckled, quickly adding, "But don't worry, I've got just the thing to help you keep up with the big leagues."

As he spoke, Hermes began digging into his satchel, continuing, "You've got a lot on your plate, kid. So here's the deal—I'm giving you the gift of adaptability. Change is constant, right? Seasons, emotions, people—they all shift. You'll need to be able to keep up. And if you get lost in the chaos, well..." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice with a conspiratorial grin. "You'll always know the way back."

Finally, with a triumphant "A-ha!" Hermes pulled his hand from the satchel. In his grasp was a small, glowing feather. He held it in front of you, explaining, "This is one of my molted feathers. It's seen more corners of the world than most will ever dream of."

He placed the feather on your shoulder, where it dissolved into a faint shimmer. "Now you'll never be lost," he declared before flying back to his seat with a satisfied smirk.

The light touch of the feather left a tingling sensation where it vanished, instilling a subtle but profound sense of direction and purpose within you. You felt as though no matter where you went or how far you strayed, finding your way back would always be within your reach.

After a moment of silence, where no one else spoke, Zeus nodded to Hestia to begin concluding the ceremony. Hestia stood up, preparing to speak, but surprisingly, Ares cut her off. "Guess I'll add my gift too," he said, his tone less gruff than usual, which even caused Aphrodite to giggle.

"How sweet, Ares," Aphrodite teased, her voice lilting with amusement. The war god turned to her with a wolfish grin before his intense gaze locked onto you. It was intense, but not unkind, as he began to speak.

"Emotions are the fire of change," Ares declared, his voice resonating like a battle drum. "They burn, they rage, they consume—and yet, from their ashes, transformation is born. You carry the seasons' power, and with it, the chaos and beauty of change itself. I gift you the sensitivity to emotion, to feel it, to understand it, and to channel it. From that, change will thrive."

Ares raised a hand, clenching it into a strong fist. You watched, mesmerized, as a faint red glow gathered around it. Then, he opened his fist, releasing a rush of red sparks and fog that shot straight toward you, hitting you squarely in the chest. A small "oof" escaped your lips as you staggered back from the impact.

As you regained your balance, a heat—sharp but not painful—spread through your body like a flicker of fire. As the glow faded, you felt a heightened awareness of the emotional currents around you, as if the air itself hummed faintly with unspoken feelings.

"Emotions are power. Learn to wield them," Ares said firmly, his gaze still fixed on you, challenging yet encouraging.

The weight of his gift settled within you, offering not just the ability to sense and understand emotions more deeply but also the challenge to use them as a tool in navigating the complexities of your new role as a god.

You could feel every subtle shift in the room, each current of feeling from those gathered—a new layer of perception that was both exhilarating and daunting.

Hestia looked around the room, ensuring no one else intended to offer a gift. Nodding her head, she turned to you with a sweet smile, a softness in her eyes that felt like coming home. "I'm usually in charge of concluding ceremonies such as these," she began, her voice as comforting as the warmth from a fire. "But before I do, I would like to bless you as well."

"The hearth is the heart of every home, a place of balance and peace. I grant you the grounding to remember who you are, no matter how the world changes," she declared, her voice imbued with a gentle authority.

She then lit a small flame in her palm, the fire dancing gracefully before it floated over to you, much like the blessings from the others. The flame disappeared as it touched your skin, but for a moment, a golden warmth covered your body, a sensation like the embrace of a long-lost friend.

"Every cycle needs a foundation. May your spirit burn steady, guiding you through every season," Hestia concluded, her tone imbuing each word with a wish for stability and strength in your life.

As the warmth from Hestia's blessing faded, you felt a profound sense of completeness, as if each of the gifts from the gods had woven together to form a tapestry of divine support and guidance.

With each blessing, you felt increasingly prepared to undertake the responsibilities of your new divine role, each gift a tool to aid you on the journey ahead. As this realization settled within you, a new surge of determination steeled your spirit.

Zeus then stood up, indicating that the blessing ritual was concluding. He walked down from his high throne towards you, his presence as commanding as ever. In his raised hand, a glowing light began to swirl, coalescing into a tangible form before revealing a crown floating within the radiant mist.

This crown was not merely a piece of regalia; it was a mixture of many elements of the natural world—fallen leaves, budding flowers, and icicles—each representing the cyclical nature of the seasons.

He stopped before your kneeling form and officially declared your title as a god of the seasons, setting the crown upon your head to mark your ascension. "With the blessing of Olympus and the consent of the Fates, we recognize you, ____, as a god of the seasons."

As soon as he spoke these words, golden threads of light enveloped you, lifting you off the ground a few inches. For just a moment, your body became transparent, revealing the flow of the seasons within you—flowers blooming, leaves falling, snowflakes swirling—before you solidified again.

Then, your physical form began to shift, growing more radiant and ethereal.

From their spots, the Fates began chanting, the string in their hold slipping and floating over, wrapping around you before melting into your skin. The threads showed that this moment was woven into destiny itself.

Your eyes glowed with newfound power, and your skin shimmered with a dynamic play of colors that reflected the seasonal cycle, indicating your deep connection to the natural elements and your role as their steward. This transformation marked not only your physical change but also symbolized your acceptance into the pantheon as a deity with a unique and essential duty to the world.

When it was over and you were back on the ground, a short but unusual feeling rushed through you; it wasn't exhaustion, but it wasn't raw energy either. It was something in between, a profound sense of being connected deeply to the natural cycles around you.

Some of the gods let out audible sounds of awe or surprise, prompting you to look over yourself; you had to hold back a gasp.

Your skin now had an array of different colors, like the vibrant hues of fall leaves, while flowers print seemed to bloom across your skin.

Your fingertips were green, as if stained by the fresh sap of new leaves, and vines curled around your forearms and legs, integrating naturally with your body.

Your eyes were pitch black, yet they twinkled with the illusion of forever falling snowflakes, a mesmerizing sight that captured the essence of winter's beauty.

You looked over your hands, taking in your new appearance. Bangles adorned your forearms, chiming softly with every movement, reminiscent of the sound of wind through trees or rain falling.

The staff Demeter had given you had also changed; it was now covered in a layer of frost, enhancing its mystical appearance. Your clothes had transformed as well. You were now wearing a knee-length tunic that was currently icy whites and silvers, adorned with frost-like designs that sparkled as if kissed by frost. The fabric appeared ethereal, almost weightless, like woven starlight or clouds.

Around your waist was a cinched, jeweled belt with a central gem representing the cycle of the seasons—a four-segmented design, each segment distinct and symbolizing spring, summer, autumn, and winter. On your feet were simple sandals, but you noticed that every time you moved your foot, you left frosty prints as if walking in the snow.

As you touched the crown, feeling its sharply cold surface, you realized it wasn't just the physical sensation that shifted—it was the crown itself that changed with the seasons. Currently, because it was winter, the crown felt as if it were made of ice, each facet and gem mirroring the frosty environment around you.

Every detail of your transformation was designed to resonate with the cycle of the seasons, from the frosty footprints you left behind to the vines that wrapped around your limbs, now dormant and dusted with snow.

It was a profound reminder of your role as a deity of the seasons, a role that required you to be deeply in tune with the natural world and its ever-changing rhythms.

Zeus stepped back, turning to address the assembly with a voice that commanded silence across the vast hall. "It is done. Let it be known that ____, God of the Seasons, now walks among us. May he uphold the balance and fulfill his purpose." As he spoke, the gods, as well as the Fates, responded by bowing their heads—a formal gesture of acceptance, marking you as one of their own. All then stood to their feet in a reverent acknowledgment of your new status.

Hades was the first to react post-announcement, his form blending into the shadows and disappearing without a sound, a typical departure for the Lord of the Underworld.

Meanwhile, Dionysus, with a twinkling grin and barely contained excitement, boomed, "Time to get a feast started for this celebration!" He then left the hall, pulling Apollo and Athena along with him, his laughter echoing back into the space.

As the hall began to clear, Demeter approached you, her expression filled with a mix of joy and tears. She reached out, gently touching the side of your face, her eyes gleaming with emotion.

It was only then that you noticed you had grown. You weren't as imposing as Zeus or Ares, but you were noticeably taller than before, now standing at a height that reached Demeter's collarbone—a significant change from being at her mid-thigh previously.

Observing your surprise at your new height, Hermes couldn't resist floating over to join in the moment. With his usual playful smirk, he commented, "Well, look at you now—still small, but I wouldn't dream of pocketing you anymore." His words brought a light-heartedness to the moment, easing some of the solemnity from the earlier ceremony.

Embarrassment warmed your cheeks, and the flowers in your hair responded to your emotions by curling up slightly, which drew a teasing "aww" from Hermes. His laughter bringing a light-heartedness to the moment, easing some of the solemnity from the earlier ceremony

Before the moment could continue, Zeus ambled over with a few other gods. He turned to Demeter, his voice carrying a tone of urgency. "Your presence is needed in the mortal realm—winter still continues and needs to be maintained," he said, clearly outlining the necessity of her role in managing the seasons on Earth.

His eyes landed on you momentarily, a mix of stern authority and subtle reassurance coloring his gaze. "You'll remain in Hestia's care until your home—your palace—is built here on Olympus," he explained. "Normally, a minor god would not receive such an honor, but given your unique heritage and divine parentage, you'll be given the simple honor of having your own residence in the divine realm."

You stuttered out a "Thank you" as Zeus turned to leave, Hera's arm linked with his, both moving with the poise and confidence of rulers.

Behind them, Aphrodite lingered with Ares. She turned back to you with a playful glint in her eyes, "Don't be a stranger, dear. Do stop by to visit one of these days," she purred, reaching out to caress the underside of your chin lightly, her touch as mesmerizing as it was unsettling.

You managed a stuttered "Bye," watching as she sashayed away, holding the arm of the war god, uncaring of her husband's—Hephaestus—watchful eyes as he limped slightly behind them.

Hermes, still near you, chuckled lightly, his voice tinged with amusement and a hint of warning. "Careful," he quipped, "she'll have you wrapped around her finger faster than you can say 'Zeus's lightning bolt!' Just look at my muscle-head brother."

Your gaze followed their departing figures just in time to see Aphrodite, with lidded eyes, caress Ares's face, the god leaning down as they rounded the doorway corner. The interaction, brief as it was, painted a vivid picture of the complex relationships and dynamics that thrived among the gods of Olympus.

As you were still processing this glimpse into the intricate web of divine interactions, Hestia's voice gently pulled your attention back to the present.

"Hermes, you'll do right not to influence this young god with your trickery," Hestia chided, her tone light but firm, hinting at the deep respect and order she upheld within the pantheon.

Hermes just laughed, a sound rich with amusement, as he held both hands up in a gesture of mock surrender. "Who, me? Never," he quipped, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Then he turned to you, his expression softening into a grin. "I'll see you around, Sprout." With a wink, he flew away, his departure as swift as his arrival, calling out over his shoulder, "Arty! Just the goddess I wanted to see," as he playfully bothered Artemis while she walked out.

With Hermes' departure, the grandeur of the Council Hall felt more pronounced. It was just you, Hestia, and Demeter left in the vast space. The echo of Hermes' laughter still lingered slightly, reminding you of the lighter sides of divinity amid the solemnity of your ascension.

Hestia's presence was calming, a steady flame in the center of potential chaos, while Demeter's nearness reminded you of your roots and the journey that had led you here.

Together, they represented a spectrum of care—Hestia with her broad guardianship over hearth and home, and Demeter with her focused nurturing of life and seasons.

Demeter sighed, a wistful expression crossing her face as tears shimmered in her eyes. She spoke of returning to the mortal world, her voice thick with emotion. "I've always known you were special," she confessed, her voice soft. "I'll try to visit as much as I can, whenever I can," she promised, giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

You stared up at her, your own eyes misting over, and in a moment of profound connection, you croaked out a term you had never used before, "Bye... mother."

This was the first time in your entire existence you had called her that. For a second, Demeter's lips parted, her hand flying to her chest as if struck by the weight of the word. Then, she rushed forward to engulf you in another embrace, murmuring, "My little one," her voice thick with emotion.

When she finally pulled back, she turned to her sister. Demeter's voice held a plea as she looked at Hestia. "Please... look after him," she asked, her tone laden with a mother's concern.

"Of course, I will," Hestia assured her, nodding solemnly. Her tone was warm yet resolute, a promise from one sister to another, sealed in the sanctity of their divine roles.

With a final hesitant touch, a soft caress that lingered a moment too long, Demeter stepped back. Her entire form then lit up in a brilliant display of green and gold auras. She minimized into a glowing golden orb that floated around your head twice, as if saying a final farewell, before zipping away to the mortal realm.

The room felt emptier without her presence, the lingering warmth of her touch a stark contrast to the cool grandeur of the throne room. You stood there for a moment, lost in thought, reflecting on everything that had transpired.

Hestia's voice gently broke your reverie, "Would you like me to show you to your room?" she asked kindly. You agreed, grateful for her guidance.

As you followed the Hearth Goddess out of the throne room, you couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for you. Each step felt like a move towards a future filled with unknowns, but with the support of the gods and the newfound powers you possessed, you felt a cautious optimism about facing whatever challenges might come.

A/N: thank you so much for taking the time to read 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄, 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔. this story holds a deeply personal place in my heart, and knowing that you've given it a shot means more to me than words can express. 

when i started writing this, i was in a dark place—like so many of us were during the early days of covid. i lost my father during that time, and it shattered me. my dad was my biggest supporter, always telling me how much he wanted to read my stories. but back then, i couldn't bring myself to show him my work. i felt like it wasn't good enough, like i wasn't good enough.

now, i'm doing what i couldn't do then. this story is my way of honoring his memory. it's about finding yourself, about rebirth and growth, even when the world feels cold and dark. it took a lot of time, tears, and healing to get here, but i'm proud of what i've created.

i hope this story speaks to you in some way too. whether it's the mythic adventure, the emotional undertones, or just the escape of diving into another world, i hope it brings a little light to your day.

thank you for being part of this journey with me. ❤️

—XANI 🌺