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... erent from the last time Hermes was here, but intrinsically the same psychedelic dreamscape.
Shifting glass windows swirled with cosmic patterns, as if a nebula lived behind the walls. Paperwork floated mid-air beside stardust chandeliers. The coffee table had no legs, yet hovered steadily, carrying an untouched teacup that never cooled.
And Hermes sat in the center of it all, shoulders slumped, arms cradling the bundled infant asleep in his lap. He hadn’t said a word yet.
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