Chapter 2: Deeper Truths

“People are stupid; given proper motivation, almost anyone will believe almost anything. Because people are stupid, they will believe a lie because they want to believe it’s true, or because they are afraid it might be true. People’s heads are full of knowledge, facts, and beliefs, and most of it is false, yet they think it all true. People are stupid; they can only rarely tell the difference between a lie and the truth, and yet they are confident they can, and so are all the easier to fool.”Zeddicus Zu’l Zorander, Terry Goodkind’s Wizard’s First Rule (1994)

Over the next few days, the Fire Titan met with the goddess of the hearth.

In the workshop of Prometheus, Hestia joined Prometheus in his near-endless task of his final creation with Epimetheus. Before them, a bronze model of the first woman lay upon a marble pedestal.

Hestia’s mousy brown hair was bound up as she analyzed with her gentle warm fire-red eyes. With a serene smile, she approached Prometheus’s special project.

“Prometheus,” she began, her eyes observing every piece of the model. “This is unbelievable. You and Epimetheus are amazing.”

Prometheus let out a laugh. “I do not know if I can agree. We gave away all of the best traits to the other animals. Elephants are strong, fish can swim, and birds can fly. If I don’t give them small blessings from us, they will be no better than hairless apes.”

Hestia smiled. “I like that you care so much for them even before they are born.” She reached out a hand, and a divine fire-like energy jumped from her to the model. “I give them the gift of home,” she said softly. When the son of Iapetus looked at her, Hestia gave him a soft smile. “Your other animals may make nests or caves, but they will want home with family. It instills compassion for them to need one another. Through that closeness, they will make shelters to weather the storms of life.”

Prometheus watched in awe as the bronze figure swirled with the few gifts he had been able to give. Soon, he would add Metis’ final gift. That would be for later ... But even as he thought of it, he knew there was someone else he would need to talk to.

Until that, he would focus on the matters at hand.

“Thank you, Hestia,” Prometheus said, reaching out with his black marked hands.

Hestia accepted his right hand and shook it. His other hand clasped on top in friendship. “I am still sorry about the Flame of Olympus burning you.”

Prometheus let out a snort of laughter. “Think nothing of it.”

“That was a large favor,” Hestia said kindly. She touched his arm to make sure he understood that she was grateful. “The Flame could have consumed you.”

“It might have, but I trusted you,” Prometheus said honestly.

“Well, just know if you need something in the future, I am here for you,” Hestia said.

“You’ve already done so much for me,” Prometheus said, motioning to the model.

Hestia turned the touch into a hug of friendship. “Let me still owe you a kindness, Prometheus. Good things on Olympus need to be more commonplace.”

“They do,” Prometheus said back. He hugged her back, but his thoughts were on the actions of Zeus, knowing that the future of Olympus would likely be cruel and selfish in nature.

Just before the moonlight of Selene touched down on Olympus, Demeter and Zeus strolled through the landscapes of Olympus. The night air was sweet from the fragrance of blooming flowers. The distant sound of cascading waterfalls gave them a relaxing atmosphere for their time together.

“I had no idea you could be interested in me,” Demeter commented after their days together.

Zeus smiled, “Why not? You’re just as important as I am ... More so, even, as one of the older children of our parents.”

“But you’re king,” Demeter pointed out. She paused before adding with a motion of her hands, “And you always seemed in love with Metis.”

“I was,” Zeus commented with open honesty. “I am still if I am being truthful, but I have certain obligations as King of Olympus that would require me to have the right person to be by my side.”

Demeter’s hair seemed to shine silver in the moonbeams. Her lips parted in a soft smile of compassion for her youngest brother.

“And you think that person might be me?” Demeter asked.

Zeus, ever the charming suitor, nodded respectfully. He was quite aware that he would get nowhere without flattery. He had to pretend they were equals even if his position as king clearly made him superior to her and all other goddesses on or below Olympus. Even deeper, he knew the tremendous power at his disposal would never allow them to be equal regardless of their parentage.

Together, they reached a small, quiet garden adorned with fountains that had splashing waters that seemed to splatter out liquid diamonds. Winding pathways surrounded them both. Zeus was hard at work to make his godly city to be more open and welcoming than it ever had been before.

Zeus paused to admire the beauty of his handiwork in the settling night. Thankfully, his admiration for his work transferred from one subject to another as he turned to Demeter.

“My dear Demeter,” Zeus said with as much affection as he could muster for her. “You are by far the best choice to be by my side. Olympus can see how much work you have done in cultivating food from the ground and the goodwill of trying to make the Mortal Realm more livable for all beings.”

Demeter’s heart swelled at his kind words. “Thank you, my lord Zeus,” she replied, soft as a summer breeze. She looked upon with soft eyes. “If I should be your choice, I would be honored to be by your side, but I want you to know I will not try to replace Metis. I know how much she meant to you.”

Zeus flinched, controlling himself. He did not want Metis’ name mentioned by this lesser divinity. While he restrained his anger, Demeter looked at him with soft eyes, believing his rage to be mourning.

“I do know what she meant to you, Zeus,” Demeter repeated. “I know you might have other ‘attentions’,” she added, knowing all about Zeus’ affairs. “I won’t stop you from having them,” she went on with a colder, calculated cadence. “I only ask that any children we have come before the others.”

Zeus could not understand what it had taken Demeter to say what she did. He only cared that she had said what he had wanted to hear. Leaning down, beneath the starry sky, Zeus’ lips brushed against Demeter’s with soft, slow, deliberate intention.

The kiss caught Demeter off guard, but it was not altogether unwelcome. She melted into his experienced touch.

She could not know of Zeus’ intentions, but her body just reacted to her more seasoned partner. As wet clay in the hands of this molder, Demeter surrendered to his desires.

Back on Gaia’s island, the peaceful tranquility of the elder deities’ exile had been shattered. Rhea’s frantic footsteps could be heard as she raced throughout the ancient forest. Her heart was pounding in her chest from the anxiety of what she feared that she had lost rather than the cardiovascular sprint she found herself in. Her bare feet stamped on the soily earth in her search.

Panic gnawed at her as she searched for any sign of the children. Aegis and Eletheia were nowhere to be found on the entirety of the island.

Rhea’s worry deepened into a well of despair moment by moment. Her mind raced with countless fears and possibilities. Had Zeus come for them? Had they left on their own? Had some unknown god kidnapped or destroyed them?

She called out their names. Her voice grew louder and more shrill with each new call she let out. For all her efforts, there was no answer. Only silence from the forest returned her cries.

When she was defeated by their absence, wandered into the clearing she had been countless times with Gaia. This was where she often found solace from the trees, but also to just think about all of the eventful tragedies she had survived.

Gaia stood at the water’s edge. As Rhea could only see her back, she could not read the Earth Mother’s expression, but Rhea knew that somehow Gaia was aware of the tragedy.

“Mother!” Rhea cried out. Her voice trembled with fear as she rushed to Gaia’s side. “They’re gone. Aegis and Eletheia are missing.”

Gaia turned to face Rhea. The weight of their shared sorrow hung heavy in the air, but for Gaia, it was so much more than it was for Rhea. In that moment, for her, this was just the inevitable conclusion to her immortal life’s totality of failure.

“I know, Daughter,” Gaia replied weakly. While others might mistake grief in her voice, Rhea could hear the defeat that emanated from her mother. “I felt their absence the moment they departed from my island.”

“Then...” Rhea breathed, struggling to contain her anger. “Why did you not stop them?” The question was just a little quieter than a scream. In the past, Gaia had not tolerated her daughter’s outbursts, but then, she allowed it.

Rhea’s heart clenched when Gaia offered no response. The reality of their children’s disappearance was becoming more tangible by the second. “What are we going to do, Mother?” she asked, pleading.

Gaia’s gaze turned back to her lake. “Nothing,” she breathed.

“Nothing?”

“Everything we have done since Cronos has been for the betterment of the other gods, for Olympus, but...” she struggled, shaking her head. “Perhaps, we have been too active.”

“Too active?” Rhea shot back. “That is our right, as queens!”

“We were queens,” Gaia remarked back. “I believe the Moirai are giving us a chance to step away before we become too involved, before we make an irrevocable mistake.”

“But ... how?”