Chapter 6: Liberation

“All get what they want; they do not always like it.”Aslan, The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis (1955)

Three months passed.

The poorly lit dungeon had become Zeus’ home. Remaining shackled, each day was its own struggle for the king. The weight of the metallic chains grew heavier with each passing moment until it brought him down daily,

If that were not enough of a reminder of his defeat, Typhon’s lovemaking with his wife Echidna felt like a taunting that would not leave his mind. Zeus wondered sometimes if the victorious monster took a perverse pleasure in making love in those circumstances as a way to punish Zeus. Was this how the monster relished in reducing the once-mighty king to a broken mess of a captive.

Each day felt like years for the youngest son of Cronos. When there was no noise, there was only the torturous ordeal of wallowing in despair. He had lost. He had not been powerful enough to truly damage the monster of Typhon.

All that was left for him was to rail against his fate. If Helios and Selene had come down, he might have had a chance. If the other gods had stood by his side, he would have won. Those thoughts bounced in his head like a ball banging on a wall over and over.

Above all else, he reserved his bitterest contempt for Metis. She had supposedly loved him, but where was she? He could have sworn she had not died. He had seen her move when he was attacking Typhon. If she had lived, why was she not with him? Why had she not rescued him? Why had Typhon spared her? The more he thought on the subject, the more he blamed her. She was why he was there, languishing in chains.

In those darkest of moments, Zeus found only his resentment growing for the Oceanid. Perhaps, Gaia had been right about Metis. Even as he blamed Metis for his misfortune, the smallest of voices within him whispered that his defeat was a result of his own hubris, but he could not recognize that thought.

In truth, he could not. He had lost, sure. That much was true. But he had only needed someone to help, and he might have overcome this obstacle.

All that was left for him was to stew in his bitterness. Thoughts of retribution against that other gods was all he could imagine as recompense for his humiliation.

Somehow, someday, he would be free, and when he was, he would make right all the wrongs against him.

The months had been painful for the Oceanid.

For all her wisdom, she knew there was much to do. She spent the first week going to speak with Poseidon and then her parents. Poseidon was recovering from his wounds. He refused her gift of ambrosia as the damage was mostly superficial.

Her father was silent, still upset about something Poseidon had done. Her mother, however, had given Metis the news that she was pregnant. This explained Metis’ fear of existential dread. Having never been pregnant, it had overwhelmed her. It was that simple.

Beyond that, Metis did not allow worry to take her over. She was not Zeus’ Queen yet, so the child within could not be the supposed usurper. With that in mind, she took comfort in the situation.

That meant there was still work to do. She had to think of the future, not just of Olympus, but what if the Fates were right? If so, Metis needed to consider what that future looked like.

This led the Titaness of Wisdom back to Olympus. Metis found Prometheus amidst the ruins of the city. The overly productive Titan had returned to his workshop. It had been overturned and nearly destroyed by the storm of battle between Zeus and Typhon months ago.

She approached him slowly.

Prometheus glanced up to her as he cleaned the area. He sensed that she was there for a reason. While he did not stop what he was doing, he acknowledged her with a nod.

“Welcome in, Metis. What can I do for you?”

“I think it is time for what I can do for you,” Metis said, reaching behind her back. She pulled out a large ornate jar. “I had meant for this to be my wedding present for Zeus, but I suspect that this might not come to pass.”

“And you’re giving it to me?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Look inside,” Metis said, breathing heavily. She sat on a chair next to the wall.

Within, there was a swirling miasma of golden, liquid light.

Prometheus stared intently while his mind raced with the possibilities. The severity of her actions was palpable to Prometheus.

“But your power,” he breathed.

“Will do us no good in the battles ahead,” she remarked, breathing heavily.

“Battles? You cannot mean that you intend to free Zeus,” he said in disbelief.

Metis nodded. “Of course I do,” she said. “But that was not what I was referring to.”

“What were you referring to?” Prometheus inquired, suspicious of how she spoke.

Metis paused to summon the courage of what she said next. Regardless if it was the pregnancy that had inspired the fear of some impending end or not, Metis’ first goal was to always plan for the future. All other events or occupations were a distraction.

“There may come a time when humanity might be necessary in usurping Zeus.”

“Usurping?” Prometheus remarked, fearful. He was about to hand the power back. “That’s treason. Cratus and his family...”

“They will do nothing because they will not know,” Metis replied. She was careful not to touch her stomach. She was not sure if she could trust Prometheus with that information. Too many secrets in one place would be foolish. “This plan will go for eons.”

“Eons?” Prometheus asked, dumbfounded.

“Gaia means to cultivate a child that can defeat Zeus. Typhon is one such cultivation. I think more will follow. There is this prophecy, a curse that every King of Olympus will be overthrown by their most worthy son,” she elaborated. “I believe such a prophecy cannot be thwarted but can be ... contained ... If a mortal son defeated him, and that mortal son fell to time ... the curse ends. Would it not?”

Prometheus set the jar down to contemplate the riddle of prophecy. “I believe it would,” he replied with an uncertain nod. “But this is from the Fates?”

“It is,” Metis confirmed.

The burden of the future from the Moirai was complicated and nuanced by its very nature. Letting out a long, deep sigh, he motioned to the jar. “And this is for that?”

She nodded.

“How will you defeat Typhon?”

“I am working on that, so leave that part of it with me,” she requested. “What I want you to do is focus on humanity. We need to consider a future where Zeus is a tyrant. We can’t have god replacing god over and over. It will be a violent, endless cycle. It must be broken, Prometheus.”

While Prometheus was doubtful that such a cycle existed for a moment, he considered his source. Metis was an honest being. She was Zeus’ love, but she put the stability of the realm above all else. She was not conniving or selfish. If there was a model of noble divinity, it was in Metis.

“If such a cycle exists, Metis, I will do all I can for the end to be merciful,” Prometheus said respectfully, holding the jar with her divinity in it.

That was enough for Metis. She nodded in understanding and turned away at her next task.

One another part of Olympus, Cratus, Bia, Nike, and Zelus were together in their own meeting room within their shared palace.

Their wounds from their battle with Typhon were healed, but that left them with new issues.

Bia gazed out the window, to cherish the majestic landscape of Olympus. Cratus and Zelus exchanged a look. Nike just looked at the ceiling in exhaustion.

“What are we to do, brother?” Bia asked, never taking her eyes off of the destroyed city.

“We remain loyal to Zeus. We believed in him before he was king, we believe with him as he reigns, and we believe until he falls,” Cratus said simply.

“But is it? We lost!” Nike exclaimed.

“But we are not dead!” Cratus exclaimed. “Where there is life, there is victory. Only death is final!”

Doubts and fears intertwined within his siblings. Typhon’s might had left an indelible mark on all of them. Cratus could see that one sentence would remove the lingering unease that had gripped the hearts of his siblings.

“You question our efforts,” Cratus said understandingly. “You wonder if it has all been in vain. Believe me, I know. I have felt similar feelings. It has not been easy. One loss does not dictate our future.”

He looked from Bia to Zelus to Nike.

“We are strength!” he exclaimed, flexing his fist. “We are power!” Cratus grabbed Bia, shaking her out of her stupor. “We are victory!” Cratus walked up and tapped Nike on her shoulder. “We are the dedicated!” He shot a look at Zelus.

“Well, I am certainly glad I did not miss this,” the voice of Metis said from the entrance.

“Metis!” Bia exclaimed, motioning for everyone to stand.

“Are you all in agreement to stand behind Zeus?”

“We had not really decided,” Zelus said nervously. “But ... yes.”

“Good,” Metis remarked. “I will need your help soon.”

“With that?” Nike asked.

“We’re going to rescue Zeus.”

In the heart of a sunlight forest, there was a child god created from the union of Zeus and Maia. He was called Hermes. He was a mischievous being and always at play.

At that moment, he laughed gleefully as he ran away from Pan. For his part, Pan was the god of the satyrs and was a playful deity of the woods. Hermes’ tiny sandals kicked up leaves as he darted through the gaps in the trees. His laughter echoed through the forest.

“Pan! You can’t catch me!” Hermes called out as all children do. Life had not yet stolen his pure, innocent joy. He was able to simply exist.

Pan had goat legs and playfully happy eyes. He grinned at the challenge, enjoying the youthful happiness in Hermes. He leaped effortlessly over the green obstacles.

As they bounded around a giant oak tree, Hermes suddenly stopped.

“What is it, little Hermes?” Pan asked, halting herself.

Hermes’ gaze locked onto a being deep in the trees. The god of satyrs did not have to wait long. Emerging from the shadows was a wise and enigmatic Titaness.

Hermes felt a shiver run down his spine from the presence of the imposing Oceanid.

As far as a team could go, Metis could have done worse. Most of the gods had taken her advice and gone to Aígyptos. This left Metis with few options, and if Prometheus did as she wanted, then he would be preoccupied.

The group was composed of Cratus, Bia, Nike, Zelus, Pan, and little Hermes. Together, they ventured towards Typhon’s mountain. Metis led them despite the difficulty of what was to come. Everyone but Hermes understood how powerful Typhon was. To defeat Poseidon and then Zeus made Typhon the undisputedly most powerful divine being in the living land of Greece. Cratus and his siblings understood that pain firsthand. Pan had heard the stories, but Hermes was a child without the fear gained from age. This worked perfectly for Metis’ intentions.

Upon reaching the range where Typhon had been seen, Metis motioned at the children of Pallus. Cratus and his siblings fanned out. After their defeat to Typhon, they had learned the value of caution, and so their movements were fluidly calculated as they scouted the area for any signs of Typhon.

Ever the curious child, Hermes almost bounded out, but Pan restrained the child by Metis’ side. Metis kept a watchful eye on the child and his companion. Knowing the dangers, she almost regretted that she might be endangering the son of Zeus, but with so few choices, it was altogether necessary.

After a few moments, Cratus and his siblings returned. “The monster is within with a female beast,” Cratus said quickly.

“May I ask why you didn’t help us scout?” Zelus wondered.

Metis motioned to Hermes. “I have to make sure the boy does not run off.” She looked at the four, and her answer seemed insufficient. She could not honestly explain her own weakness, but there was a deception that might fulfill their curiosity while also maintaining their respect for her. “I think you all know the effects of battling Typhon. For me, it was worse. After he pinned me to the ground, he seemed to have siphoned off some of my power. Since fighting him, I am not nearly as powerful as I once was.”

Zelus was immediately contrite. “I am sorry, ma’am. I had no idea.”

“How could you?” Metis replied in question. “I would not want everyone to know the king’s advisor is weakened. Perhaps by defeating Typhon, I will be restored.”

She knew good and well that the power was gone, but if the listener accepted the duplicity, she knew they would be more loyal for the believed sacrifice that she had made.

“We apologize, my lady,” Bia said. “Our brother should not have been so quick to judge.”

“Think nothing of it,” Metis waved her off. “Is there an opening?”

Someone had come for Zeus. Or perhaps they had come to hurt Typhon.

Typhon’s new more god-like form had a dark silhouette created by a sense of unease. He could feel the stirrings of intruders around his mountain home. Of course that meant that they were coming for his prisoner or maybe retribution for what Typhon did to Olympus.

It would be the simplest matter for him to go out and crush the newcomers. They would deserve such destruction for coming to his home.

However, even if the intruders deserved all of the power he had to bring to bear, his focus was on a more urgent matter. Echidna was close to childbirth. He had been with her through each birth by choice. His wife should not have to suffer alone. They had fun together making the children, and they would suffer together in bringing the new life into the world.

For the smallest moment, Typhon hesitated between his choices. He loved his wife beyond measure, but the people outside represented a danger to them both that he could not underestimate.

Pausing, he never would have had such a thought before battling Zeus and feeling the power of the Master Bolt flow through him. Looking at his hands, he blinked. Was that what it meant to be a god from Cronos’ line? Was selfishness common amongst the gods and Titan?

That was no Typhon’s way. Clearing his head, he knew his choice was no choice at all.

To unleash its fury or be by his wife’s side?

He gazed upon Echidna. The answer was clear whether he wanted to easily admit that or not. Picking her up to take her to their bedroom, he kissed Echidna’s head. If he was to be the most powerful, he would allow all to know of his devotion to his wife. That came before all else.

Back in the dungeon beneath Typhon’s mountain, Zeus sat on his knees. He remained shackled to the wall.

He had already screamed and cried for the day.

With each labored breath, Zeus slumped against the ground. He would never fall completely to the floor; the straining chains would not allow it.

Despair gnawed at the edges of his mind, consuming him from within. The wallowing left him feeling empty and with nothing. Memories of victories and triumphs meant nothing to him. They could only taunt him in a place where he had no future.

This led him to thoughts he had not considered. He wondered about Typhon’s transformation. His new body looked uncharacteristically similar to Zeus’ own looks. That had happened after Zeus’ greatest attack, or maybe it was some side effect from the thunderbolt.

Either way, the son of Cronos and Rhea suspected that an inkling of his power was within Typhon, and that had added to the change within the beast. Taking that thinking to its next step, Zeus wondered of Hades’ metamorphosis. He had been blue before the Great War, but ... as Zeus recalled, Hera had healed him. That had returned Zeus’ brother back into a more mundane god, yet ... after going to the Underworld, Hades had been made ashier, darker.

Something had happened. It stood to reason there was Underworld magic at play. What if some other, older deity had empowered Hades? Nyx had not seemed as powerful in front of Zeus. Was it her doing? No. Zeus could not be sure, but someone had been responsible. It was not Hades’ own doing.

If Zeus could do what Hades and Typhon did, then he might have a chance against the monstrosity.

For now though, there was only darkness for Zeus and his immediate future. While he might continue lamenting his loss in his broken spirit, he felt something shimmer within him. Regret, loss, humiliation held no sway over him. Anger had been burnt out through his screaming. Cold, calculating logic for his revenge was all that was left, and he would have it. One way or another.

And so, he remained shackled in the darkness, a fallen king in a kingdom of shadows, his spirit broken and his will extinguished. In the silence of the dungeon, Zeus wept tears of regret, his lamentations echoing through the empty corridors like a mournful dirge for a world that had been lost.

“Are you aware of your roles?” Metis asked.

“We are,” Cratus said. His siblings accompanied the words with a nod.

Metis stood back watching to be sure. If she had powers to link their minds, it would have been all the easier. Unfortunately for her, that was not a power at her command.

For their part, Cratus, Bia, Zelus, and Nike moved swiftly. They ascended the treacherous slopes of Typhon’s mountain. The three winged siblings flew while Cratus jumped upon the mountainous structure. His land was a powerful blow warning those within that he meant to do them harm.

Typhon retaliated in his godly form. This new version of him shocked them as they had expected his more monstrous visage to arrive. Part of their shared mind’s thought the more mundane version of him was an illusion, so the alteration set them aback.

Meanwhile, Hermes darted through a window, going down until he found the dungeon below. With playful enthusiasm, he reached the chamber where Zeus was held captive. He looked to Zeus and the King of Olympus motioned across the room with his eyes. Hermes turned and saw a box upon a table.

He ran across the room, grabbing the box. Opening them, he recoiled in disgust. He did not fully grasp what they were in nature, but for a child, seeing ichor-covered tendons was gross.

Turning, Hermes saw the monstrous form of Echidna.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she screamed. Wincing, she reached down to her stomach. Her body was wracked with the pains of impending childbirth.

“Oh no you don’t!” shouted the companion of Hermes. Turning back, Echidna saw the satyr god behind her. Unfortunately for her, Pan unleashed a powerful sonic scream directed right at her. For animals, it might have stripped their flesh from their body, but for her, the force of his audible barrage paralyzed Echidna in her tracks.

With such a small chance, Hermes retrieved the box containing Zeus’ tendons and rushed to the Lightning Lord.

The tendons laid before him as Hermes struggled to break the shackles. Zeus felt a surge of lightning spark from his form to the tendons. The tendons sensed their master’s intentions and guided themselves back onto his flesh before diving back into his body.

When they were within him, Zeus let out a triumphant roar. Rising from his shackles, he stood tall and snapped the metal that had bound him for so long.

He let out a single blast of lightning at the ceiling before picking up his son and bolting to the satyr. Once they were in hand, he closed his eyes and inhaled. The tower of lightning swallowed him and his rescuers up and would take him to Olympus.

Metis smirked when she saw the lightning tower take her love back. She screamed out, “Retreat!”

The protectors did not question her orders. Zelus flew and grabbed Cratus as Bia and Nike darted away on their own.

Metis allowed herself a moment to breathe as well as be sure that her team had indeed escaped. When a roar of defeat came from Typhon, she knew they had done their duty. She summoned her own tower of light to take her home.