Chapter 8: Son of Day and Daughter of Night

“The serpent Python, who terrified vast regions with his pestilential breath, was struck down by a thousand arrows from Apollo’s golden bow.”Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book 1, Lines 438–451, translated by A.D. Melville, Oxford World’s Classics. Copyright © Oxford University Press, 1986.

On the heights of Mount Parnassus, Rhea sat in a temple made by Gaia’s magic. Long ago, after Zeus freed Hades and Poseidon, Poseidon got it into his head to save a stupid stone.

It was the rock Rhea had switched Zeus out for. It was just a small rock from Mount Olympus, nothing special, and yet, atop the pedestal in the palace, there it sat, a stone radiating an emerald-gold aura.

What was once mundane must have been transformed by its time inside Cronos’ belly. It was as if the unliving materials of the realm could sap up some of the ambient power of the divine. As Rhea marveled at the stone, that was the realization she was struggling with.

This stone was why her mother had made Python. He was protecting the stone, but why?

When Rhea inched closer, she felt it. The fissure in time that was Cronos’ chronal magic. Images flashed before her eyes. Small ones at first. She saw rocks, stone, trees, nothing of consequence just by being in the rock’s presence.

She looked upon the once-unimportant object and wondered. Was this how her mother saw the future? Had it been a trick of some kind? She kept considering all she knew before the moment came before her.

The real decision came when Rhea weighed caution versus curiosity and abandon of fear won.

A flicker of a hum cracked through all of her senses. Like Zeus’ lightning bolts, she had been struck with power beyond imagining even for a Titaness. Her vision had been stolen to view, not what was in front of her, but rather a battered mirror held together by static threads was what she saw.

From nothingness, the impossible, a formless presence of infinite expanse wove itself into being. From its depths, luminous presences emerged. Vast greenery, dark stillness, swirling abyss, passion, and end darkness.

Burning electricity.

That stupid titaness bent over the grassy, seafoam-laden shores of Delos. Two teenagers came forth in a hectic ichor-filled destructive birth. One a black haired young man and a gold haired young man.

Crackling lighting.

On a rocky plateau under a blood-orange sky, a muscular bronze-skinned being was surviving under the crushing weight of the heavens. Before him, Atlas was walking away from his eternal duty for the first time in millenia.

Booming thunder.

Cronos fell to his three sons as another version of Rhea watched on.

Statically charges.

Hera was gripped at the shoulders by a powerful, rugged looking male. Disbelief washed over Hera’s face as the man pressed his lips against her to claim his prize.

A tear ripped through all of her visions.

A maelstrom of impossible geometries and maddening forms erupted in the formless void. Chaos was coiled in battle. Their shifting limbs formed and dissolved in incomprehensible patterns at impossible speeds.

Beside them stood an icy colossus of ancient, chiseled, frosted skin. A radiant golden figure wielding a sunburst scepter stood shoulder to shoulder in defiance. A draconic being with cosmic breath and axe gleaming, roared in fury. A four-faced figure flowed as both man and woman, weaving patterns of creation and destruction. A massive turtle-man with oceans swirling in his shell bellowed a deafening cry. Finally, at their back was a calm, glowing figure, seated cross-legged, radiating tranquility even as tendrils of madness threatened to consume them all.

The eldritch abomination of ravenous hunger, endless destruction, maddening comprehension, and boundless power faced its foe of opposing champions. This impossibly complicated, beyond understanding creature’s gaze alone could fracture realms when it moved. Its final lunge brought all that it had to bear, engulfing all.

Light returned to Rhea and she gasped in breathless fear. She retreated from the stone, wondering what she had only just seen. While the other visions were curious, it was the final one she would recall. Chaos had stood, shoulder to shoulder, with beings as powerful as them, and still, there was something greater to defeat them.

She shook her head as the dim interior of the Temple of Delphi told her she was safe. She was sweating, trying not to allow what she had seen and felt overtake her. Her sense of security came from Chaos being the most powerful being she knew. That another, more powerful being might exist ... brought a terrifying prospect for the Titan Queen.

A great shaking of the earth reminded Rhea that there was much more going on in the world. Python was uncoiling. His venomous gaze was fixed upon the horizon. Gaia must have summoned him to do her bidding, but to where and for what reason escaped Rhea.

What she realized, as the sun was starting to rise, was that this day would not be like most that came before or after. This day would alter all on and below Olympus forevermore.

The worry from her vision was that while everything would change, none of it would matter.

Leto laid on the grassy portion of the island. The last few days had been good for the floating island of Delos for the daughter and her children. While it still was not landlocked, Leto’s aura had promoted a sort of growth to the island.

The most important growth came from her boat. Her children had broken down the boat given to Leto by Zeus. They built a small shelter but with it came the earthworms that had come with them. With the titaness’ magic exuding, the earthworms started devouring the kelp and seaweed while drinking the half melted ice.

Perhaps the worms were blessed by Gaia or the exuding magic of Leto’s was doing all of the work, but within days, Delos was becoming a proper, soil-rich island. Soon, if the godly children and titaness mother stayed there, it would be burgeoning with life.

The sun was just above dawn over the lands. The waters sparkled as they lapped gently against the land. Artemis and Apollo knelt beside their mother. Since giving birth a few days ago, Leto rested on a bed of dried out seaweed.

Divinity was not shield enough from the strains of her particular brand of childbirth. Her golden ichor had stained the ground and greenery, which only made life ground more quickly. She had screamed and cried and there had been so much ichor lost, so much flesh was torn, and there was just so much pain that it had left Leto barely able to stand, let alone be there for her children.

Thankfully, they were born more grown and therefore more mature with kindness and empathy for the woman that had bore them for over fifteen years.

Artemis wrung a damp kelp over Leto’s forehead like a cloth. “Mother, how do you feel?” she asked softly.

Leto offered a faint smile to her child with a shake of her head. “I will be fine, my child. What matters to me is that you and your brother are alive.”

“That is not all that should matter, mother,” Apollo said compassionately.

Leto knew there were a million things she could say. She did love her children; of that, she was certain. However, her mind was like the waters that rushed against the island, constantly in motion. She would not discard her chance to return to Olympus. She had two children by Zeus. He had always claimed his children. Hera wanted Leto dead because living children were a threat to her rule and reign, so if Leto did not give birth or died before she did, both Leto and the children would be gone, and so would the realistic shame of knowing she was not good enough to keep Zeus’ attention.

She knew that there could be a return, but for that, her children would need to be seen. Leto would need to present them to Zeus. This could only work if she had the time to do so. Healing came first, and that would also cost her precious moments that she desperately needed. During these moments, she would need to ensure she did not lose the only allies she had left in her children.

When she reached up and touched her son’s cheek, she smiled for him.

“But it is,” she said simply. “I never thought you two would be born.”

“We are, though, mother,” Artemis said softly. She reached down and touched her mother’s warm face. “You need to get better!”

Seeing the loyalty in Artemis’ eyes and the obedience in Apollo, Leto knew she had her soldiers for the coming conflict. They did not need further manipulation to comply with her wishes. Direction to an end goal would be what was needed.

“I will heal. It will just be slow,” Leto said, no entirely giving up on playing her children.

“What would make it faster, mother?” Apollo asked in a doting affection.

“Ambrosia,” Leto breathed. “But right now ... Right now, all I need is you.”

Artemis and Apollo smiled, and they might have just loved their mother in that moment and then worked on a plan to get the healing drink of the gods.

However, less than a moment after the smiles touched their lips, they tremors similar to the ones earlier in the day. Only the shifting of the earth was not stronger, shaking the water and moving the floating island.

Something vast had stirred.

Artemis froze mid-motion. She looked up at her brother while her keen ears caught a faint hiss. The hum became a roar that both she and her twin could hear. A shaking of the ground beneath them put their mom in danger, and the newly born gods would not have that.

The twins’ keen eyes saw the danger from the horizon. The colossal serpent surged into view. While they did not know Python’s name, they recognized him as a threat to their and (more importantly) their mother’s wellbeing.

His form sliced through the water with terrifying speed. They could see his emerald and obsidian scales glinting under the morning’s sunlight and water’s reflection. His eyes were glowing orbs of venomous green with an unerring, malicious gaze on Delos.

Worst of all, the air was fast growing thick with a stiflingly thick and sickly green mist emanating from their opposition’s mouth. To know it was toxic was obvious, but what they could not know was that it was also suffocating and would strip them of the ability to breathe.

Apollo was on his feet in an instant. “Artemis, stay with Mother!” he commanded.

Artemis almost hesitated when Leto tapped her daughter on the forearm. She mouthed the word, “Go.” What she followed it up with was a reprimand that her son would hear. ““Do not presume to shield her, son. She is just as capable as you.”

Artemis was already standing before her mother finished the sentence.

While they were not babies in the conventional sense, they were not grown. They were trapped in a state of not having grown up and had experiences but had the bodies of fifteen year old deities. With that youth came a simplicity that no other beings might have.

Artemis would defend her mother. That was that.

“We face this together,” Artemis said with a smirk

Leto struggled to sit up. “Children, if you might fail, flee from Delos.”

“We cannot do that, Mother,” Artemis said.

“If it is my life for yours, it is the easiest answer, Daughter. This creature’s wrath is meant for me, not you.”

The ground trembled violently as Python reached the island’s edge. He rose from the water while his jaws parted, revealing fangs dripping with venom. The sound that escaped his throat was a guttural roar capable of shaking the heavens and the sea alike.

Apollo could feel radiant power flow through in this moment to defend the woman who had carried him in her womb for years. The light that flew from his hand was streaking through the air like a comet even as Python launched himself forward.

The bow struck Python’s scaled hide but glanced off harmlessly. Python’s attack on Apollo landed. Head butted his head against Apollo, and the new god barely was able to dodge the attack. Still some of the acidic breath was searing through the young deity’s leg.

When the serpent fell back to prepare for another attack, it hissed in challenge.

Artemis saw her opening and moved swiftly. She flanked the beast from the side as she hurled light daggers at her attacker. Her aim was not like her brother’s blows. Her onslaught was not as quick but insightfully direct, finding critical weak points that no one else could see. The daggers embedded themselves an inch deep into Python’s flesh.

This ultimately elicited a low growl of irritation but little else. The beast swung its massive tail that might have uprooted trees if any had grown on the island. It did succeed in sending waves crashing against the shore. The siblings could not dodge in time, and crashed into the sea. The ichor that freed from their mouths warned of defeat.

“Apollo! Artemis!” Leto cried.

The serpent saw Leto and breathed its poison onto the titaness. What might have killed cattle or birds instantly rendered the daughter of Coeus and Phoebe unconscious. The verdant, sickly green infected her vein, turning her veins a bright, glowing emerald.

She fought against whatever it was this poison mist was doing to her. She wanted to save her children, yet she found all of her strength being sapped from her. Being the child of a true Titan enabled her to battle this mist. She could see her child sinking into the sea.

Nevertheless, she fell forward and unconscious on the island. The great snake Python looked around and with no food and no opponent, he slithered under the water and went away.

There were so few days that Hera could consider events to be a complete victory. As Hera stood in the quiet, shadowed sanctuary of her quarters, she felt that today was that day. The soft light of her water basin presented her with an image of events occurring elsewhere in the Realm.

She had learned her craft from Rhea well. If Gaia could see events that happened in the moment, so could Hera. It was trial and error, but she learned the technique quickly enough.

Her sharp eyes were fixed on the events unfolding on Delos. Python was the perfect chosen instrument of vengeance. Leto and her disgusting offspring had lost. That the slut had two children rather than one felt like a person affront to Hera as if to say she was more fertile or more of a woman than Hera by successfully carrying two of Zeus’ children as compared to Hera’s single son, Ares.

When Python’s suffocating green mist coiled through the air like tendrils of death and surrounded Leto, Hera knew she had won. The titaness crumpled to the ground even as her veins glowed with the serpent’s venom.

Hera flashed a thin, satisfied smile. She would need to thank Gaia for the beast. It had all worked out. News would spread quickly enough throughout the day.

When she watched the young twins falter under the serpent’s assault and fall into the sea, she knew these frail newborns would not rise again. Their golden ichor stained the soil and bubbled at the top of the sea.

She extended a perfect hand over the basin, clearing the image back to her reflection

Their deaths did not justify anything. For Hera, it was a means to an end. No one would dare cross her or try to have an affair with Zeus.

She felt the rush of vindicating satisfaction. She was good at being queen, and she could ill afford for anyone to threaten her throne. The Realm was set back into its proper order, and Zeus’ shameful indulgence in Leto would haunt her no longer.

There would be other challenges, to be sure, but this one was over. The best part was that the reward would serve many purposes for the queen.

Hera left her chambers with her head held high.

The salty waters enveloped Artemis as she sank into the depths. She could not know that the liquid was pressing down on her, crushing her already weakened body because she was lost to the living, wakened world.

Her body was limp and unresponsive in unconsciousness, drifting downward both alongside and the same as Apollo. The light of the surface was fading rapidly, leaving only darkness, She would soon join Hades in the Underworld and might yet become a sentry for him with her unerring aim. Her brother might have provided a light so bright that the Underworld would have day and night.

That could have been their destinies if not for a sound that echoed within her very being.

“Child of Zeus ... Awaken!”

Artemis had not heard many voices in her life, but even if she had she would recognize that this voice was unique. The sound was not singular but many, uniquely united in a cacophony of tones layered together. The combination was ringing with contradiction in a soothing and discordant, masculine and feminine ring to it; although, if she were conscious, Artemis would have had to admit that the feminine edge rang clearer, like the faint cry of a mother calling her child home.

This forceful speaker resonated in Artemis’ mind, bypassing her unconscious state and striking into her very essence until her eyelids fluttered.

“Awaken!”

Her eyes snapped open. She realized all too quickly where she was and the danger she was in, but with the sea pressing against all of her, but most importantly against her chest, she found breathing difficult and her lungs screamed for air.

This voice seemed all too quickly to understand her fears and washed away her panic.

“It appears to me that you are close to death, O Daughter of Leto.” The voice softened, tinged with wry amusement at her circumstances. Though its layered timbre remained unsettling, it seemed to care. “Perhaps, you and I can stave off the inevitable for a while.”

Warmth surged through Artemis’ exhausted body with a sensation akin to a fire piercing the cold depths. It was not enough to heal her fully, leaving her muscles trembling and her chest heavy, but it was enough strength returning to her.

“Do not squander my gift, “ warned the internal sound.

Regardless of what happened next, Artemis knew that she would not be hearing from the voice again.

Gritting her teeth, Artemis turned her head to see her twin sinking just out of reach. She could not call out Apollo’s name, but that did not stop her. With sluggish movements, she swam toward him with all she had. Blurred vision and heavy limbs would not stop her from pushing forward.

When she reached him, she grabbed his wrist and looped her arm under his shoulder. His heavier weight meant nothing to her. If she could get herself out of the water, she could get him.

She kicked upward, dragging them both toward the light far above. The ascent was stripping all she had, including the gift from her unknown benefactor. The warning not to squander what she had been gifted was ringing in her head.

She could not leave her brother even if it meant failure. With everything, the glow of the sun was her call to the surface and her home on Delos. Artemis was a goddess right and true.

While awareness was not perfect in her mother’s womb, she knew of great beings. There was Hades and Nyx of the Underworld and their great deadly powers. There was Zeus, Artemis’ father, with his thunderbolts. Prometheus had his fire and brilliant mind. They had all done great deeds and fought in the Great War. She was no less worthy of such deeds.

If she died in the waters of her uncle, no one would sing songs of Artemis. No one would recall her name. This challenge was simply the first of many in her immortal life.

She clung to Apollo even if his weight might doom them both. She summoned the reserves of her strength that she did not know she had as she kicked her legs furiously. When fear might have crept in to steal from Artemis, the surface of the water broke and air filled her lungs.

With that restorative oxygen in her, Artemis swam toward the shore with her brother in tow. The waves pushed against her as if the surface would claim what the depths could not.

She finally reached the shallows with her brother. Every part of her body was spent. And yet, strangely, a small part of her felt invigoration. On the shore, not three feet from her was a basket. In it, there was a quiver of bronze arrows, two bows (one gold and one silver), and a small, orb-shaped flask of a shining concoction. With all her hopes, she prayed to whomever answered a goddess’ prayers that this was ambrosia.

She looked closely and saw a note.

“Not all gods are friends of Hera,” it read.

Believing that her benefactor was helping her once more, she uncorked the lid and bolted to her brother before she saw the state of her mother. The small container did not even have three mouthfuls, but it was enough for what she needed.

A small splash went into her mother’s mouth and one smaller splash for her brother. He spat up the water quickly enough. Artemis saw drops for herself. With her body ready to collapse, she let the liquid touch her lips.