EoM Bk 1: The Gift of Fire
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 10: The Uncertain Pattern Returns
“The vision recurs; the eastern sun has a second rise; history repeats her tale unconsciously, and goes off into a mystic rhyme; ages are prototypes of other ages, and the winding course of time brings us round to the same spot again.”
— The Christian Remembrancer, Vol. 10 (October 1845), in a review of A. N. Mouravieff’s A History of the Church in Russia. London: James Burns, Portman Street, 1845, p. 264 (review beginning p. 245). Public domain.
Athena stared at the counselor. She was not sure what to do. When Prometheus spoke, the wise listened, and Athena was one of the most informed, learned beings on Olympus.
She stood at the center of her own hall confused by Prometheus’ arrival after the humans.
He was there without fear or concern. There was a level of confidence about him that left no doubt in her mind that he was the one who had handed humanity fire. That realization startled her beyond belief.
A new light shone upon him as Athena realized that despite not helping her all those years ago in unseating Zeus, she realized he was acting right then and there. She could not fathom why.
“What you set in motion,” Athena said, “cannot be undone.”
Her words were meant as a buffer. She needed time to work out why he had done what he did.
“No; it cannot be, nor should it be in my opinion,” Prometheus remarked.
“Why? Explain why!”
“Decisions like this should not be stopped, Athena. However, they can be understood.”
“Do you think this cryptic wise bullshit will help anyone, Prometheus?”
Prometheus raised an eyebrow to this outburst.
When she saw he would have no answer for her, she gave into impatience (which was not the norm for Athena). As the daughter of Zeus and Metis, she prided herself in having the control to balance the wisdom of her mother and the power of her father.
“You said you were waiting for me. Why? To what end did you do this? What is the point? What comes next?”
“So many questions, so little time,” he mused.
He held up a hand to forestall Athena from interrupting him.
“I am not insulting you, trying to be cryptic, or being vague on purpose,” he said. “I have been seeing farther than I used to, and the sight has made conversation slightly difficult.’
“Strange,” Athena remarked. “You have always been lauded for being a forward thinker. I would not think that would inhibit you from communicating.”
“Yes, well, some skills are more difficult to get a handle on.”
He let out a breath of laughter before shaking his head.
“I was always skilled at planning ahead. It was what helped your parents win the Great War,” Prometheus said. “However, this power is not that. Some of my abilities have ripened, Athena. I am not planning for vague futures; I perceive.”
She did not interrupt.
“I see possible futures,” he continued. “What is likely or unlikely.”
“Why are you telling me?” Athena asked. “I caught you helping humanity, and you’re telling me about a potential ability to see the future?”
“Right now, this has everything to do with you.”
Athena stiffened, but kept silent so he could speak.
“As you know, Ouranos was deposed by his most worthy son,” Prometheus said. “Cronos was deposed by his most worthy son. And so, too, will Zeus fall by this same ancient principle.”
“That is not possible,” Athena said at once. “None of his sons can harm him...”
“We both know that you have already considered the possibility that a mix of mortal and god could undo him.”
Athena did not deny it immediately.
“Could defeat him... maybe!”
“Even now, your father has taken the first step down that path because he cannot fathom the possibility of something as weak as a mortal harming him. But by doing so, he created a bridge between god and man.”
“A demigod,” she breathed.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “As you know, Ares is not worthy. Nor is Hermes or Apollo. If your mother might have lived, she could have birthed a son, trained by you, and they could overcome Zeus.”
Athena’s eyes brightened at that possibility.
“On this, I know. A son born to ease or indulgence like your half-brothers will never defeat Zeus, no matter what domain they claim as their own. Struggle can breed strength; necessity can father innovation. Loss leads to endurance. To fall, one can someday fly. The most noble ideals must be cultivated to birth a hero.”
Athena felt the weight as though the impossibility of the sky had fallen into her hands.
“Such a son,” Athena voiced slowly, “could one day overcome Zeus.”
Prometheus nodded
“However, this son will need a guide,” he said. “Just as Zeus was trained by Gaia, this son will need someone who understands the tactics of this battlefield with the necessity of restraint to not show off and the resolve to see a task through to the end.”
“Are you seriously asking me to train Zeus’ son to overthrow him?”
“No.”
She looked at him in baffled confusion. There was no sense in what he was saying
“I am asking you to walk a road without knowing its end. I am asking you to trust in your own morals. I am asking you to decide if you truly meant it when you said you wanted to removed Zeus from power.”
“That is not how I think or operate, Prometheus.”
“Correct, but it is like how faith works. I told you that long ago. Now, the time has come for you to hold true to that idea.”
He brought his hands together, stretching them forward before disengaging them and folding them behind his back once more.
“As you know, life is full of risks. You know logic and reason will fail, so again, I ask you to have the faith you did not have all those years ago.”
“How?” Athena nearly screamed. “I do not know what you’re after when you speak in riddles.”
“Some truths collapse when spoken too clearly,” he said gently.
Though he was soft spoken, Athena could see he was thinking through what he was saying in the moment.
“Sometimes, to do the right thing, we cannot be told precisely what to do. Knowing the answer makes it so we did not choose to answer the question correctly.”
“How does that help me?” Athena almost exclaimed.
Though he irritated her, she restrained herself.
“Sometimes the right path is one we must discover for ourselves, unburdened by the foreknowledge of the outcome,” Prometheus said, suggestion in his voice.
The words struck deeper than Athena cared to admit.
“And what about Zeus? Humanity? The laws?”
“You need to do what your heart tells you is right,” Prometheus answered. “After all, the right decision is not decided by power or even wisdom at the end of the day.”
“What is it decided by?” Athena wondered.
Prometheus smiled and walked up to her and padded her in the center of the chest and flashed her a smile.
“I have a feeling you can figure it out.”
Zeus arrived at the edge of their orchard as he had over the last few months. The sky was clear, and he enjoyed the simplicity of Greece when events were like this.
Elysía approached him slowly with one hand pressed to her trim waist. Before she said anything, Zeus could anticipate how this would go.
“I have a thing to tell you,” she said.
Her words were plain because her speech was that of those unenlightened humans. Truth came first. The ability to communicate their truth came secondary.
“Tell me,” Zeus replied
“A woman in my village says there is a child growing in me.”
She hesitated, unsure of his reaction. More than her uncertainty, she was searching for the shape of the next thought.
“It is yours.”
For a heartbeat, Zeus almost laughed.
The idea struck him as absurd. A mortal child from him? A tiny thing of soft bone and fleeting breath? For the smallest iota of an instant, old thunder rose in his chest. Amusement, not concern, was building up within him, but then, he considered the children of Oceanus. They had found a way to procreate with the humans, and they were immortal. Perhaps they were not as divine as someone as pure as Zeus, but they were of the line of Chaos. This led him to a single conclusion in way of a question.
If they could have children with mortals, why could Zeus not?
No prophecy that he knew of spoke of this. This creature would be born, not of a goddess, but a mortal woman, so there was no threat.
This would never be a worthy son capable of rising up to challenge him.
His smile softened in relief. Family, through the mortals, was the answer. He would never need to fear them because they could never harm him.
He stepped closer to her before placing his hand on her stomach and pecking a kiss onto her lips.
“There is nothing to worry about,” he said. “You and the child will be watched over.”
Elysía looked up at him trustingly. Her green eyes were bright with excited hope.
“You will stay?”
“For as long as you need,” Zeus replied. “You have my word.”
And as he spoke the promise, the King of Mount Olympus believed his own oath. The vow was a commitment made without magic or necessity. No one, like Gaia or Rhea or Hera, was about to force him to make any pledge overly binding.
This was his decision and all the lasting for that choice.
What a strange sight his brother was.
He had known him to be strong, but with every bulging muscle and veins that Prometheus had never seen before, he observed his sibling in his labor.
Labor...
Now that word felt familiar.
He had never heard it in the context of Atlas, but maybe he did not need to. Perhaps, one day he would. Not just Atlas.
Prometheus let out a single laugh at his own foolishness.
Brute strength. Is that what it would all come down to? The strength of one generation against another? Two men battling for a prize? Was it not so with Cronos and Ouranos with Rhea if the rumors were true?
Prometheus shook his head when Atlas started to move.
“Who goes there?” Atlas shouted out.
“Relax, Brother. It is only me.”
“Pro-Prometheus?” Atlas said as he saw his brother more closely. “What are you doing here?”
“Can one son of Iapetus not visit another?”
“When you have never come before?” Atlas scoffed. Absolutely not!”
To that, Prometheus smiled. Atlas was surely the mightiest living son of Iapetus, but he was certainly no fool.
“Genuinely, Prometheus, it is good to see you, but why are you here?”
“I need some advice from my brother?”
“Aren’t you afraid that being seen with me will lead to your precious Zeus calling you a traitor?”
“Given what I have already done, I think the concern for being called a traitor is a lesser concern because, brother, I am one.”
Atlas’ eyes grew as large as dish plates.
“What have you done, Brother?” Atlas asked.
Fear, truly unrestrained fear, washed over Atlas’ eyes. He knew the price that a traitor paid. Atlas paid it ten times over. The sky above was only part of his punishment. Prometheus understood the score intimately. Righting this wrong was important.
“I do not have time to tell you all that I have done, Brother. I need your help, so I ask: Do you trust me?”
This was the beauty of Atlas. There were a million reasons to ignore Prometheus. He had sided with Zeus, he did not visit, he helped Zeus even after Atlas was punished.
However, there was one reason above all of the others as to why he should assist Prometheus.
Prometheus was Atlas’ brother.
“I trust you, Prometheus. Always.”
That was all Prometheus needed to know. He did not look to the future. He would not need to know what he needed to say and what he needed to ask. Those answers were in his heart. Any deviations that altered them from The One could be fixed by Prometheus later.
“How did you know you were fighting for the right side when you gave your loyalty to Cronos?”
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