Hermes almost lost his nerve at the front steps.
The Fiery Cross tower rose into the sky like a monolith, glass and steel catching the sunlight until the entire surface seemed to burn. One hundred floors stretched above him, and the sight alone made his stomach churn.
He clutched the bouquet of sunflowers tighter, his lips a thin line.
The lobby doors whooshed open as he stepped inside. The marble floor gleamed, so polished it reflected him back at strange angles.
A single receptionist sat at the front desk, an old woman with heavy bags under her eyes and glasses sliding down her nose. She looked like she had been awake since the building was first constructed.
"Uh… hi," Hermes said, clearing his throat. "I was summoned to the ninety-ninth floor." He lifted the sunflowers like they were a hall pass.
The woman squinted at him, unimpressed. "Name?"
"…Hermes."
