EoM Bk 1: The Gift of Fire
Copyright© 2026 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 6: A Justified Price
“There is no sorcerer as cruel,
As the proud, angry fool.”
— “The Curse,” performed by Ribaldi/Rigoletto (as portrayed by Joseph Paur), from Rigoletto (1993). Written and directed by Leo D. Paur; produced by Feature Films for Families. Music and lyrics by Larry Bastian and Kurt Bestor. © 1993 Feature Films for Families. All rights reserved. Note: Rigoletto (1993) is a moral and spiritual reimagining of Beauty and the Beast, which itself was a thematic adaptation of Rigoletto, the 1851 opera by Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901) with a libretto by Francesco Maria Piave (1810–1876), based on Le Roi s’amuse (1832), a tragic play by Victor Hugo (1802–1885).
A storm might have been less destructive in its intent within Zeus’ palace as compared to the inevitable arrival of Hera.
The doors parted for her without command, for she was just as much of a monarch as her husband.
Zeus stood near his terrace, looking out at the godly city and beyond.
Hera’s voice cut in. If she were a lesser maid, and not the matron of the gods, she might have come across as shrill or shrieking. There was nothing lesser about Hera.
“What,” she asked coldly, “was the point of beating my son half to death?”
“Hephaestus endangered Olympus,” Zeus said. “He should be lucky that I allowed him to keep his life.”
Hera stepped closer when she heard him threaten her son like that. The marble beneath her feet did not crack, but the weight of her furious presence might have been enough to shatter the material if Zeus was not careful.
“What did he do that warranted such behavior?” Hera demanded.
Zeus did not answer immediately. She recognized that he was thinking about whether or not to even tell her. That was another barrier in their marriage that she did her best to ignore. Stability mattered more than a momentary discomfort.
“There was a woman ... More of a girl ... made during the first generation of humans. She was not supposed to exist, but not only did she exist, but she is immortal. She is not a god. Her blood is red, not gold like ours. But because she can have children, she has been helping keep humanity alive.”
“What does that have to do with my son?” Hera cried.
“Hephaestus assisted her back when humanity was born. His actions are, in part, why humans existed despite my intention for them to die in one generation.”
“By helping a frightened girl,” she said devoid of emotion, “he deserved to have his face caved in by your protectors?”
“By withholding the knowledge,” Zeus answered callously.
He gestured toward the places beyond the palace.
“If humanity is allowed to grow, they may learn how to wound any god.”
Hera’s eyes narrowed. Her mind did the arithmetic based on the components built from understanding Zeus. The mathematics were not adding up until she recalled how close she was to killing her husband nearly fifty thousand years ago.
“This is not about humanity,” she said softly. “It’s about you. It’s always about you!”
Zeus locked eyes with his wife. While a vow kept her from harming him, she was the one person on Olympus who very nearly destroyed him. That knowledge was painfully beaten into him when she had landed many blows against him.
“Do not make this personal, my wife.”
“Then do not treat me like a fool and pretend I am wrong,” Hera replied. “You’re afraid of humans. You’re scared they can defeat you somehow.”
Zeus turned away from her.
“Hephaestus was wrong,” he said. “He has been punished. You’re overcomplicating the matter, Hera.”
“Deny this all you want, but I know when I see fear in your eyes. I looked into this eyes when I almost killed you.”
“Careful, Hera,” Zeus said, lightning crackling at his fists.
Hera would not play into his hand and make this interaction violent when she could not harm him or defend herself. She straightened, smoothing her gown. This had been a tiresome audience that needed to be concluded.
“Very well,” she said. “If you will not tell me the truth, I will go, but you were wrong for what you did to Hephaestus.”
She left the throne room. There was only one person on Olympus who could confirm her hypothesis. While she did not enjoy the idea of having to go to him, she knew it was necessary.
No longer could she be the one to bring Zeus down personally, so any alternative needed to be explored with as much prejudice as possible.
Thinking of the advisor, she prayed to Chaos that Prometheus would be helpful to her.
The Underworld was ever the quiet landscape.
In this tranquil Realm, Hades was alone as he usually was. He could see Nyx in the distance.
The time since the near-overthrow of his brother, Zeus, had been productive in so many ways. Humans lived and died, and suddenly, Hades had a workforce that was unrivaled.
Mortals were in no way equal to any form of divinity. Even the weakest nymph (the weakest in the hierarchy of the celestials) could outperform mortals, but for all the thousands of Oceanids, the mortals were far more plentiful.
They filled the halls of the dead with their thinly existing spirits. When they needed to move material such as the stones, gems, and gold, their spectral figures found their appendages could be hardened through focus.
For Hades, that worked perfectly. He had a workforce that did not need rest, who did not eat, and could serve him forever. The expansion and industry of the Underworld progressed apace for the Chthonic King.
There was a simple joy for diligent enterprise that left him content in his existence.
As he thought of his own life, he realized that he had cultivated a Realm to be one that would rival Olympus.
Olympus had been born to be perfect by two Primordials, so the work would take longer. Nyx was a Primordial, but she did nothing to develop the Underworld because it had been necessary to have existence as it were.
Life was what it was for her.
As Hades recalled what he had with Hera, he wondered if he was content. His great love affair was the stuff of legend to himself and some select beings in the Underworld.
And yet, their arrangement broke down, and he was left wondering. He had been intimate for Nyx for some time, but he was not in love with her. According to Nyx, she had given birth to some of his children; however, he had never met them.
In this arena, he had to trust Nyx. There was a chance that he was more powerful than her, but Hades was not sure of the outcome should they ever find themselves on the opposite ends of a battlefield. More than that, he did not believe that hardiness or brawn should determine the morality or the outcome decision of a matter.
However, as he saw the progress of the landscape, he realized that there was gratification to be found in the professional part of his life, but the intimate ... Well, to say it was unsuccessful would be a lie. He and Nyx had a robust sex life, but there was no love.
He understood with each day that while he loved the intercourse, he yearned for a romantic connection. Physicality left him empty without a mental and emotional connection.
Perhaps, for him, the mind and heart were more important than the flesh.
With that though process worked through, he made his way to the Night Primordial.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“What has brought this inquiry about?” Nyx asked, emotionless.
Nyx turned her pale gaze toward him, considering the word when she realized how serious this discussion was for Hades. He was an artifact from a younger cosmos while she was a monolith from an age before the beginning of time.
“No,” she went on at last. “I am content in reality. Happiness is a detail to strive for. I do not strive but last.”
Hades’ mouth curved to a facsimile of a smile.
“I am one to do; lasting is not enough for me,” he said.
Nyx stepped closer. She wore a dress that had a hem of her trailing darkness over the satellite sky of a fabric. She reached for him to touch his cheek with her form of affection.
“If ease is what you desire, I offer to provide it,” she murmured. “You know this to be true of my nature.”
Hades might have reached for her hand, but he was not one to use force with her. As such, he did not touch her wrist but pulled away slowly.
“That is not what I meant,” he said. “And you know that, Nyx.”
“Desire is a language many speak when they lack better words to explain themselves,” Nyx said in her sage-like manner.
Hades was no fool. He understood Nyx. When she spoke in such a manner, he knew she wanted push-back. She seldom enjoyed being agreed with simply because she made a sound argument or for the fact that she was a Primordial.
“Ease is comfort and not the same as meaning,” Hades replied. “Nyx, I do appreciate the distinction, but the chasm feels like a distraction.”
Nyx pulled her hand away. She could see where this discussion would go.
“If you have already made up your mind, then you must not look to me for answers I do not possess,” she said. “I can only offer what I am. Nothing more; nothing less.”
“I do not reject you, Nyx. It is only I need more than contentedness.”
“We should not deny what we are. If your heart requires arrangements beyond what I can provide for you,” she added, her voice echoing softly through the stone, “you should find what you are looking for.”
Hades stood alone as she faded away into the darkness of the Realm. He had not expected that response. That was her way though. She was one to see matters in a simple linear fashion. Once she had the point of view she wanted, she expressed that point to others and moved on. If they disagreed, they had best be quick to voice that counter.
For the first time in a long time, the Lord of the Dead stared in bewilderment. He felt the sting of rejection, and the blow hurt, but he did not feel lonely.
He was starting to wonder whether eternity was merely a long delay before understanding.
He could not know.
He would not be alone forever, but he could feel solitude in this moment because of how quickly Nyx had been able to let go of him.
In his heart, the Underworld King understood that this outcome might be for the best.
After all, no one should be forced to not be who they were. Nyx was correct in that summation. As he looked out into his Realm, he realized the answer would not be found before him.
Apollo found them near the colonnades of Hermes’ palace.
Hermes lounged in a hammock that was hung between two pillars. He was flipping a golden coin in his hands.
Ares was leaning on a pillar with his arms crossed in his serious manner.
Apollo arrived in an excited huff.
“You won’t believe what I have seen,” he almost exclaimed in his excitement.
“Oh! Oh! Was it another mortal who would blow you?” Hermes asked in his teasing way.
“Har har!” Apollo rebuffed.
“Sorry, ‘Pol,” Ares said offhandedly. “None of us care about how much you love the hairless apes.”
“What I found is far more interesting. There’s this marvel hidden away like a flower growing in a shadowed garden.”
Hermes raised an eyebrow to the comment before flashing a grin.
“So you saw a beautiful lady? That narrows it down to ... what, half the goddesses and most of the nymphs? You said garden, so it must be a nymph under Demeter’s protection.”
Apollo ignored the first half of Hermes’ comments. When Demeter was brought up, he brightened more so than usual.
“Exactly! Demeter!” he said reverently. “She has a daughter called Persephone.”
“Ol’ Lady Demeter has a daughter?” Hermes asked, sitting up. “Don’t get quiet now. Tell us about her!”