The Time of Zeus Book 5: the Coup
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 15: The Birth of Humanity
“And so the early race of man came to be ... They lived and thrived, exemplifying the best of their creators. But something was missing. Something very important.”
— Stephen Fry, Mythos: The Greek Myths Retold (2017). Copyright © 2017 by Stephen Fry. Published by Michael Joseph, an imprint of Penguin Books, a division of Penguin Random House UK.
The riverbed was quiet when Zeus and Athena arrived to greet the Counselor of Olympus.
No birds, no frogsong, no cicadas made noise beneath the sun. The land had stilled itself for the sacred events that were about to occur. The gods did not know that drastic consequences that this pivotal moment in their history was about to have, but the collected consciousness of the nature around them knew that what was about to be unleashed would be dangerous and would forever alter the landscape of existence.
Three gods stood at the edge of the riverbank, not knowing that in some ways this was the edge of the world. The end of one time was ending, and the birth of something wonderfully new, chaotic and ordered, was about to truly begin. But also, a division was about to be created. This was the line between god and mortal, infinity and the finite, our very best and our very worst, courage would blossom in defiance of power, and for all of it, the true infinite of the cosmos might be saved by the smallest of gifts made by those who did not have everlasting lifespans.
They each stood, ankle-deep in cool water in the setting sun. For them, this was but another day. This was Prometheus’ masterpiece made real. This was Athena seeing her father weakened. This was Zeus taking what was Prometheus’ grand moment and making it his own.
Prometheus appeared old and thoughtful as held a clay container that was marked with countless etchings and held the models of his little humans.
Athena stood behind him, watching this moment unfold.
Zeus was alight with power and excitement. His eyes crackled with lightning. Athena had not seen him with so much power coming off of him.
Behind them, much further away, Athena was all too aware of the four shadows that watched from a ridge above the bank.
Prometheus held up the models of humanity before his sovereign.
Zeus raised both hands and the clouds above answered his call. Clouds rolled unnaturally fast and collided to create a thunder snap. Light pulsed from his chest to his fingertips and into the air.
He did not strike the clay.
Rather, with the air around him electrified with power and electrons creating certain separations on the smallest levels, he inhaled.
What he released was not some mundane air, but rather, a divine wind, charged by the energy of its king. It passed from his lungs into the vessel of clay like a tidal wave of creation.
The world recoiled in response. The power was so great that Prometheus flinched, unable to hold up the container.
The river beside them flared with golden light, and the ground trembled below. For this monumental moment, the three gods watched in curious bewilderment. After all, none of them could know what would occur.
The vessel cracked open as beings that were six to eight inches began to rise up, both in coming forward and growing in size. First, there was only one figure, then another rose, but then another, and another. There were nearly naked, but it seemed that Prometheus had allowed them to be born with loinclothes to prevent them from being shamed in their nudity by their creator of Zeus.
The other gods, including Cratus, Nike, Bia, and Zelus were amazed by the light of creation. These were not infants, but full-grown men in the prime of youth. In the centuries to come, they would have been recognized to be twenty to twenty five years old.
Their bodies were beautiful, balanced, unmarred by toil or time and only briefly touched by Zeus’ divinity.
When the five foot tall mortals looked up at their creators, they looked upon the gods and quaked. Their knees gave way under the immense pressure they felt, their hands covered their faces, and their collective breath came in and out by way of shallow gasps.
“Prometheus,” one whispered—somehow knowing his name.
“Creator, please,” another said.
“Peace, my creations,” Prometheus replied. “Breathe. You are safe.”
That was not true though, he quickly realized. He looked from his creation to the gods behind him. His prodigious mind was putting two and two together.
The faint glow that surrounded Zeus and Athena seemed brighter to Prometheus in that moment. But then, Prometheus looked down and realized that all divine beings since the earliest days had a light from Chaos. That was how the Primordials walked about in a Realm of darkness before the sun.
Their godly immortal essence was hurting, or just scaring, these mortal beings. The sheer resplendence needed to be reduced.
During this realization, the mortals flinched at their radiance. One cried out in painful terror. Another began to convulse and foam at the mouth. Another’s veins were getting brighter and brighter as if it would explode.
Prometheus turned quickly to his companions.
“Your godly light,” he said, urgently. “You must draw it inward. Now!”
This was not sagely advice. For the first time in a long time, Prometheus was giving Zeus and Athena a direct order that they would obey.
Prometheus showed them by inhaling, drawing his power into himself. The light around his flesh dimmed.
Athena obeyed first, following his lead.
Zeus lingered for a moment. He had a perverse look of curiosity of what might happen if he allowed himself to just exist near these lesser beings. Further still, the King of Olympus marveled at what they had made.
He wanted to know their limits. His fascination had been piqued. And though weakened from the exertion, his improved mind could appreciate all that Prometheus had done. Perhaps, it would be the right course to allow the mortals to live on.
Prometheus could see all of that in his king’s face, which brought him joy, but much needed to be done.
“Zeus!” Prometheus warned. “They are not us. They cannot survive standing in your presence while you are at full strength.”
With a mixture of reluctance and defiance, Zeus drew his divinity back into his skin. The storm in his eyes dimmed to a soft blue sky.
The mortals let out a gasp of air and inhaled deeply as if surfacing from drowning. Their eyes opened slowly. When they looked up, they could see their creators as ones who might also be their destroyers. Like a parent who might say they brought them into the world, so too could they take them out. That knowledge was imprinting into their collective consciousness moment by moment.
The young men did not know what divinity meant. However, the warning of what the gods could do to them was very well and instinctively understood.
One by one, each came back to themselves and looked up at the gods. Each responded in their own way, but they recognized their makers and their superiority in every way.
Fear, reverence, hope, and want were blended together in a varied quantity amongst them.
They saw the hunger in Zeus’ eyes, pride in Prometheus, and the fearful and wondering eye of Athena.
These gods beheld what they had made. The three knew this was the first generation of humanity. There were imperfections despite what Prometheus believed. Some later might even look upon the bones of these creations and believe they were neanderthals, and perhaps they were, but this was the start.