Chapter 7: The Titans’ Legacy

“Change is the only constant in life.”

— Heraclitus of Ephesus, Fragments, c. 500 BCE. © Public Domain.

The little baby Poseidon was much more aware than his female siblings; additionally, he was blessed with a beacon of divine light to show his superiority. He had some understanding of who and where he was upon his birth.

He grasped that Rhea was his mother, and the Mad King Cronos was his father. While there were other Titans and Primordials in existence, Poseidon could not observe them because they were not on Olympus at the time of his birth. The baby’s perceptions were limited to his immediate surroundings at the time.

When he was swallowed and fell into the depths of Cronos’ stomach, he landed on some sort of solid ground.

“W-Where...?” The child struggled with words. He was new to the world, after all, but he was nevertheless divine, pure and true.

“You are in a place bereft of hope,” a deep, booming voice echoed.

The utterance came from the shadows of the abyss that Poseidon currently found himself in.

The infant Poseidon looked around in confusion. He could see the stomach acid around the ground from where he stood. There were dissolving food bits being digested. That was not the direction of the voice though.

He turned towards the pronouncement. At first, he could see nothing but a black void of nothingness. From those shadows, a tall, strong being came into sight. He had long black hair and unhealed scars along his body and face. It was as if he had been burnt, cut, and bled, but failed to heal repeatedly...

“You are no doubt curious about what you will find in this place,” the man with the ominous voice said to Poseidon. “I am your brother, Hades. And here, in Cronos’ belly, you will only find ichor; ichor and darkness.”

In the years since his brothers’ meeting, Iapetus was learning that perhaps the fact that beings lived and died was not so terrible. If all life went on forever, then there was little meaning to existence because the essence of creation would stay the same and stagnate. Through death, a certain evolution was not only possible but expedient.

With Ouranos’ slaying, Cronos became King. After he became King, the other Titans had fallen into their own order underneath the Titan King. In that order, they felt comfortable having offspring.

At first, Iapetus was not among those Titans. His contemplations had made him an outcast, but in recent times, he was no longer so alone. He had found love with one of Oceanus’ children: Clymene.

Even with his amorous affection built with his wife, this did not stop Iapetus from his quiet ponderings.

By Iapetus’ estimation, time on Olympus seemed to slow. While Cronos, Rhea, and the palace stayed the same, the Realm of Greece continued to progress. What might have been five years on Olympus was nearly a century in the Mortal Realm.

That was what it was: mortal. That was part of the beauty that Iapetus had been looking for in his years of racking his own mind.

He was coming to realize that the changes in Greece were the point to life. Well, at least for now and for him. He was certain in the centuries to come, life would have a different meaning for other beings, but that was for the introspective of tomorrow to discover. He had his answer for existence, and with it, there came a particular peace that only he could appreciate.

Spring came, and life was abundant, if not tenuously existing by Iapetus’ estimation with Cronos eating his sons. In summer, life was running rampant, enjoying the ample heat of Helios’ light. But the weather always cooled a little less than spring before returning.

There was something else, something felt off, as if an entire season or two was missing.

Helios, a new divinity made by Hyperion and Theia, sat in the sky as a light for all to bask in.

Hyperion had taken the primordial flame from the sky and brought this celestial blaze to Cronos as a gift. This fire was supposed to have been blessed by Chaos to hold the power from the dawn of creation where the five Primordials had been made. This was before even time yet truly existed.

It burned with a resplendence that reflected its unique origin, giving life and warmth to any who sojourned to the godly mountain. Though, with how Cronos devoured his children, this treasure could hardly be appreciated. In Iapetus’ mind, it was a surprise that anyone visited. In Iapetus’ view, Cronos would be a problem sooner rather than later.

Greece was filled with nymphs: both of the dryads and naiad variety.

Iapetus had found his wife Clymene from these new subsets of life forms. She was both a naiad and a daughter to Oceanus and Tethys.

Iapetus could not fully understand love and its connections because of how his mind worked. Perhaps, Oceanus had seen Iapetus’ loneliness and had encouraged his daughter to seek Iapetus out. Regardless as to why, the love of Clymene had brought Iapetus a happiness that reduced his former loneliness to a laughable memory.

Together, Iapetus and Clymene created four children. It was among these children that the twins, Prometheus and Epimetheus, came to be.

The Titanic children were unique among divine beings. It was these twins who filled the lands of Greece with even more new life. Where divine beings were born through a sexual union, Iapetus’ sons created life with materials from Greece, fueled by their imagination, and empowered by their magic. With every creation, they were more efficient and creative.

Through cattle and bison, there was a new type of food. With birds and fish, there was diversity. When any of the Titans flew or swam, they could have company. Each addition to the world made Iapetus beam with pride in his sons. On the other hand, he was worried they might be overfilling the world. Epimetheus and Prometheus told him of their grand finale of life that they wanted to create.

It was these lesser beings, humanity, that had Iapetus pondering the future.

His sons spoke of a perfect creation in the image of the Titans themselves, but without the divine spark from the Progenitor or the use of magic.

The only problem Iapetus had was: If these mortal humans were made, what would be the roles of the Titans?

With everything else occurring, Iapetus considered if the day would come when humanity overthrew the Titans, as Cronos overthrew Ouranos. He was distracted by Selene, Hyperion’s daughter, rising in the night sky as the moon, to shine light on the Realm.

He did not know what tomorrow would bring, yet he could not bring himself to become overly concerned. There was too much joy in his life today, for him to care about the problems of tomorrow.

Rhea got up from her throne; her bulging abdomen told of yet another royal child of Olympus was ready to be brought into the world. It seemed strange to her that while she was the daughter of the most fertile being in creation, Rhea had only had seven pregnancies. The other Titan couples had dozens of children and a multitude of grandchildren by extension.

She could not dwell on the subject for long as the aforementioned fertility deity suddenly appeared in her private throne room.

“Mother Gaia,” Rhea said in surprise.

“Hello to you as well, Queen Rhea,” Gaia smiled.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Rhea asked.

Rhea held back her emotion. When they had last had a private conversation, a lot had been left to be desired.

“Since we last spoke, it has become clear that Cronos will continue to devour his children, and he might fall into deeper depravities,” Gaia said with calm wisdom. “I think it’s best I should help you.”

“Oh?” Rhea asked, antagonizing anger overtaking her.

Despite hearing what she had longed to hear two pregnancies earlier, there was no joy in Gaia’s statement. There was an indescribable feeling of smug satisfaction mixed with a wrathful indignation.

She truly tried to restrain her temper, but to hear that her mother finally understood was a brick of clay slammed atop the straws that would break the horse’s back.

“Now!” Rhea exclaimed, standing up to the Primordial Queen. “When you see the consequences of your choices, you want to help me!”

Rhea could not hold back the vitriolic loathing she felt for her mother. Gaia was lauded amongst the younger immortals as the wise mother and grandmother to be sought out when they needed advice. She was placed in a position of honor, but when Rhea had come to her, practically begging, Gaia had become blind because Cronos was her son.

“Daughter ... do not take that tone with me!” Gaia warned.

“I was right!” Rhea exclaimed. Vindication exploded from each word announced.

While discretion was a quality expected in a ruler, Rhea had no time for niceties. Her suffering had been endured for nothing, and she would be sure that the Primordial Queen understood the cost of her decisions. Rhea had needlessly suffered for years with a Titan who cared only for himself.

Gaia tried to hush Rhea, but the current Queen of Olympus would not be silent for her mother.

“He is not here. He is with Crius, discussing how the Realm flourishes, not that I get to see the Realm. He believes if I leave, I might conspire with his brothers to overthrow him. For that risk, he imprisons me, but you saw fit to do nothing about my imprisonment.”

Gaia nodded at the accusation laid at her feet, but she did not address it directly. “And yet, he allows you to be alone with me?” she wondered instead,

“You put him on this throne, just as Chaos put our father here,” Rhea said, waving it away. “He believes you are loyal to him.”

“One act makes him believe I do not recognize the danger he presents?” Gaia asked, disturbed by that conclusion.

“We will have to use that blindness to our advantage,” Rhea remarked strategically. In her reply, Rhea came to a sad realization about her mother. Gaia would not admit the fault was hers and fully apologize. If Rhea wanted her mother to help further her goals, she herself would have to be the one to let things go.

Gaia nodded in agreement. “You’re right. But how, considering he devours his children?”

“With Hera, I had been perfecting some of my magic,” Rhea admitted. “With the right timing and blessings from you, we could hide my next child.”

“To what end?” Gaia asked. She could not connect the dots that Rhea saw so easily.

“For you to train him,” Rhea said definitely.

This was the only positive outcome from Gaia’s previous indecision. Rhea had an abundance of time on her hands to consider the path forward. She had calculated every angle of choosing an heir and what that might require without the assistance of her mother. In this small way, even if Gaia believed herself to be the one navigating the two, Rhea knew better.

“This next child could break the cycle of usurpation,” Rhea went on. “If we teach him to be fair, not to murder his family, and understand what it means to rule, he will defeat Cronos and be better.”

Gaia looked at and listened to her daughter. In the Titan Queen’s piercing gaze and weighty words, the Primordial Queen understood the depths of the importance that this matter had for Rhea. She contemplated what Rhea’s plan might entail, how long Rhea had deliberated about it, and if the plan would work. What was almost depressing was that in those moments, she understood that her daughter was right.