Chapter Text
Crack. Crack. Crack. The face of Prometheus shall shatter like porcelain.
A needle-thin point was piercing Prometheus’ skull. His limbs could not move. His old shackle wounds stung. Prometheus coughed and a mouthful of blood dripped not only down his chin, but through a wound under his jaw.
Carved out of the darkness, a brass hook gleamed gold under the spark of Ixion. There was a face garbed by a navy veil, and within it, Prometheus saw his own eyes burning like embers. A hand shot out to press onto the hook. With a heave, it dragged down the head of Prometheus. The cracking sound was deafening as Prometheus’ body splintered into a myriad of shards. As the hook finally cut through his body, Prometheus closed his eyes.
This fractured death, where none shall remember him with grace, he deserved it. He had been wrapped up in delusions of martyrdom, too focused on his hate for the Gods. Prometheus had failed to bring a better tomorrow. He had failed his loved ones. He had failed his mortals.
Prometheus had failed the Goddess. Aidos.
Someone else was climbing the mountain tonight, a veiled Goddess with a chained hook. Prometheus had been staring at the gate to the Hearth of Olympus all evening. Having evaded much of the obstacles on the route, she would arrive under that gate sooner than the agent of change. Shame Incarnate was here to take Prometheus as a prisoner.
Aetos had arrived late. Prometheus had not been able to warn the eagle of her arrival soon enough, and so Aetos arrived with a bleeding torso. The Goddess had a way of fighting with her Crichalum hook, grappling it onto her foes to swing and bludgeon them to the ground. If Aetos were to fight, she would use the force of his flight to bludgeon Prometheus. Prometheus had told Aetos to rest for tonight to stop that from happening.
This would be a bitter fight. Shame Incarnate had the power to show beings what others thought of them. Prometheus frowned at the sight of one outcome. If Prometheus was overwhelmed enough by those visions, he would get distracted. She would use her hook to pierce through his jaw and tongue to drag him back to the Crossroads. Prometheus pressed his lips tightly together and touched the spot underneath his jaw. Even when surrounded by the hearth’s scalding fire, a shiver overcame Prometheus. What disturbed Prometheus the most, the Goddess would see it and use it against him.
Prometheus raised his head. The gate finally rumbled open, and there she was. All these years, Prometheus had met her at last, a navy veil covering her entire body like a spectre, a golden laurel on top of her head. Shame Incarnate marched forward, and her veil fluttered in the heat. The hook fell upon the ground with a clang. As she dragged its chain, it made a sickly ring. Lady Shame peered at Prometheus with eyes red as embers as if she was staring through a room of smoke.
“Out,” Prometheus spat. “This is not your fight. Aidos.”
The Goddess stilled, perplexed by the name she would not be known by yet. “ I am Aeschyne. If you truly care about correcting the wrongs of this world, Prometheus, you would go with me.”
As Prometheus stared at her, he indeed heard the whispers of the Gods. They were disappointed that their old ally had turned against them. They missed when Prometheus was an artist and not a harbinger of war. Prometheus thought about his longing for a day when he could lay down his arms again.
So what if the Gods condemned Prometheus? Aeschyne may think such words were blades, but to Prometheus, they were rain that rolled off his skin with ease. If anything, those words emboldened him. Good. Let the Gods wonder why Prometheus did what he did. Let them feel the same fear they’ve inflicted upon mortals.
“If you think the wrongs of this world are the fault of mine, I accept it with pride.” Prometheus put his palm over his chest and made a mocking bow with his head.
Aeschyne tilted her head, and the whispers changed. They were not of the Gods, but mortal. Prometheus tightened his lips. They were prayers of anger that whispered of Prometheus with scorn. “Do you rue the fall of the mortal Golden Age?”
Prometheus understood what she was trying to do. Use the voices of his mortals to make him doubt himself. There would always be mortals ungrateful for his decision, and Prometheus had made his peace with such knowledge long ago. “You’ve never seen it,” Prometheus spat.
”What a sight it must have been, for all mortals to have truly lived. What a pity that your gift of fire ended it.” Aeschyne spoke wistfully as if it were as beautiful as a setting sun.
“Mortals back then might as well have been automatons. Mules to the will of the Gods, much like you are to your delusions of divine purpose .”
“Which is to clean the mess you made of mortals,” Aeschyne spat as she wielded that brass hook. “I humble the egos you stoked and spur mortals to strive for excellence. Not like you and your careless experiment to forsake them.” Aeschyne stilled. She tilted her head to peer further. “Your careless experiment with Deucalion .”
Prometheus’ heart stilled as he finally heard the soft cadence of his son again. He did not look away. Yet, Deucalion did not remember Prometheus with joy, but with anguish. Was that what Deucalion believed about his father? That Prometheus had thrown into this world with no care for what would happen to him? That Prometheus had cared more about what the civilisation his descendants would make. One thought of Deucalion’s struck through the heart of Prometheus like a blade.
Deucalion wished that Prometheus had never made him.
Aeschyne’s gaze hardened at Prometheus with contempt. “So this is what he thinks of you. Your perfect, clever lamb thinks you’ve abandoned him. You could have stayed. You could have watched him grow. You could have protected him.”
“You don’t care about Deucalion!” Prometheus shot. “Only what torment hearing him would bring to me. You’re no different from the other Gods.”
“ We are the Divine, Prometheus. You say you wished for a world without Gods, yet I only see a flawed world of your own design. How you’ve treated Deucalion is no different from how the Fates do with us all.”
“ Stop. Get out. ”
Aeschyne tilted her head again as she narrowed her eyes. Prometheus' heart pummeled inside of his chest. The air seemed to prickle. “What is this?” She inquired. Aeschyne’s eyes widened as she heard the voices of the mortals Prometheus wished she would not find.
Prometheus gritted his teeth. “ Don’t. ”
“The mortals of Ephyra.”
Suddenly, Prometheus was there. A father hugging his daughter, helpless as satyrs entered his home. A musician, playing one last performance as her home burnt down. An escaping citizen fending off the forces with a flaming torch he carried. Prometheus’ heart drummed in his chest.
“How they cried your name as your forces destroyed them. They cried: ‘Prometheus, why have you forsaken us?’.”
Prometheus heaved every breath as he heard their voices. “No… I couldn’t save it.” The confession came out of his mouth before he could stop it. Prometheus could not revive the dead. Prometheus had to keep his ruse with Chronos.
There was no mercy in the eyes of Aeschyne. Only venom like that of a cobra’s, having found the perfect moment to strike. ”If suffering today brings a better tomorrow, so be it?”
Aeschyne did not care about these mortals, either, and cared less about Deucalion. She only revelled in using their final moments to humiliate Prometheus. Prometheus gritted his teeth and erupted his fist in flame. “YOU-! Fine. You want these flames, here then!”
They duelled. Aeschyne had cut her teeth hunting sinners amongst mortals. Though her strikes were sharp and precise, she struggled against much of Prometheus’ enhanced attacks. Prometheus set his leg aflame and kicked a wave of fire, which she did not dodge from quickly enough. She did not hold back. All her life, Aeschyne had resented Prometheus.
Prometheus leapt onto the ledge above the hearth. A sharp pain pierced into the flesh of his torso. It was the hook. Prometheus pulled at it, but the blade cut into his hand. Prometheus gritted his teeth and held onto a pillar as the hook tugged taught. Aeschyne was hoisting herself up the ledge, using Prometheus’ weight as an anchor. Prometheus gripped the metal chain and lit it on fire. He heard Aeschyne let go and fall upon the hearth’s floor.
With Aeschyne trapped below, Prometheus enacted the ritual to make plumes of fire erupt across the hearth.
”The nerve you have, copying the Oceanic hexes to channel your fire,” Aeschyne scorned. “Had your wife demonstrate them to you, precisely for this moment?”
Before he had stolen fire, Prometheus had indeed known that using the rites of the Oceanic hexes would let him use these flames easier. Hesione had performed for Prometheus each hex and patiently answered his questions about what each and every movement did. Prometheus did not want to know what Hesione would think, seeing the sacred rites of the Oceanids corrupted for Prometheus’ gains.
The Titan and the Goddess duelled bitterly– the dwindling of their lifeforces only empowered each others’ strikes. Each was desperate to emerge as the victor. Aeschyne did strike true, but it would not be enough. At last, one more strike and Aeschyne would be done for. As Aeschyne laid on the ground, Prometheus raised his fist, ready to enact the final strike.
Prometheus breathed out through his nose. As he gazed at her, Prometheus heard three voices. Deucalion had stopped believing his father was great. Hesione had stopped waiting for her husband’s freedom and return. Epimetheus had stopped remembering his brother with pride. Their new home, Elysium, was besieged by the forces of Chronos. When they had heard it was Prometheus who was helping him, they hung their heads in despair. They wished Prometheus had done better. They did not believe that Prometheus’ vision for mortals would be worth it.
Prometheus held his breath. Again and again he tried to summon flame, but his fist shook and his fire snuffed into ash. What would they think, to know that Prometheus would hurt his one birth daughter in service of his goal?
The hook glinted. Prometheus hesitated too long.
“Wait… WAIT-”
The hook pierced through his jaw and tongue. Blood filled Prometheus' mouth and throat, dripping down his face in warm streams. Aeschyne dragged Prometheus’ jaw forward so that he would not go anywhere. Prometheus’ eyes watered. His chest tightened. He wanted to throw up.
Aeschyne lifted her veil at last. Though her whites were black, her eyes were the same colour as his. The voices of the mortals Prometheus wronged, how loud they were with the veil gone. The overwhelming misery was as if a stake was shoved into his chest.
“You wish to understand the world you’ve abandoned? Reckon me .”
Prometheus saw it all, the grief and despair of the mortals he failed to protect. Oh, how loud they keened. How they cursed his name.
Prometheus. Why have you forsaken us?
Prometheus, why have you forsaken us?
PROMETHEUS, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN US?
Aeschyne kicked his chest until Prometheus fell on his back. She tugged her hook and heaved, which sealed his jaw shut. As Prometheus coughed and heaved, blood shot out of his nose. The gates of Olympus’ hearth opened, and Prometheus was dragged into the freezing air. The snow-laden steps bit into his skin. Prometheus could not breathe.
Crack. Crack. Crack. The face of Prometheus shall shatter like porcelain.
No. Not yet. Prometheus coughed and, with his remaining strength, he raised his arm. Aeschyne could not seize this victory just yet. Prometheus had no other choice.
Prometheus gripped his hand around Aeschyne’s ankle and set it on fire. The stench of burning flesh filled the air. Aeschyne closed her eyes and steadied her breathing as she heaved forward. She stomped on Prometheus’ hand– a futile reflex. With a lunge, Prometheus grasped his other hand around that ankle. The fire climbed up her leg. Finally did Aeschyne whimper in pain. Prometheus swallowed his fears and he grasped tighter. The blue fire enveloped the Goddess in her entirety, and with a cry, she heaved another step forward. The blaze that engulfed her roared. An eternity passed as the fire burnt until only ash remained.
Prometheus coughed and stumbled upon his two feet as his head rang. The snow had evaporated into steam, revealing the black bedrock of the mountain. She would never forget this. Prometheus clutched his hands in his hair as he panted and stared at where she stood.
Aeschyne had managed to drag him to some deserted courtyard of Olympus. That witch had arrived here at last, and she stared at Prometheus in horror. Prometheus set the back of his hand aflame and pushed it against the hole under his jaw until it cauterised shut. Prometheus’ tongue would have to wait. Even in ideal conditions, Prometheus’ battle with Melinoe was difficult. That veiled Goddess had weakened Prometheus indeed, not only in strength but in mind. Body littered with wounds, mind polluted by the grief of those he had known, Prometheus was slower, wearier, clumsier while fighting the witch. At last, Prometheus was on his knees as Melinoe raised her staff up high. Prometheus needn't worry about winning this duel, for someone would vanquish Melinoe on Prometheus' behalf.
Before Melinoe could shoot a blast of magic from her staff, someone struck her from behind. In a burst of green light, the witch returned to where she had come from. Heracles panted as he stared at Prometheus with widened, golden eyes as his shaking hands gripped the club. Very rarely was the big man ever daunted. Heracles' club clattered onto the arena as he gripped Prometheus' hand and hoisted him to his feet. Prometheus inhaled a hiss as Heracles tilted his jaw up. The wound under Prometheus' jaw stung with every beating of his heart.
"She branded you," Heracles realised in horror and disgust. Heracles growled as he rubbed his head. "I told you to let me intervene!"
"No," Prometheus whispered as he shook his head. Prometheus squeezed his eyes and gritted his teeth as pain ripped through his tongue. "Shame's... made you... suffer enough-" It took Prometheus' entire body to suppress a yell.
However Prometheus had contorted, Heracles did not pay attention. Heracles draped Prometheus' arm over his shoulder. "Rest your tongue," Heracles quietly reminded Prometheus, in a tone Prometheus thought was not possible from the big man. Heracles was correct. As long as Prometheus bore the Mark of Shame, he could not speak. As Heracles carried Prometheus out of the Hearth and into an abandoned chamber, Prometheus closed his eyes to savour how firmly but gently Heracles held him. This shall be the one time Heracles would console Prometheus.
Prometheus' mind... it was poisoned with the hatred others held for him. A traitorous Titan seeking to bring anarchy. A liar who had doomed mortals with the sin of hubris. An oathbreaker who did not care for casualties of those he swore to protect. Was that... what others believed about him? Was that who Prometheus was?
Lies, Prometheus thought. They were only lies of the veiled Goddess, made to break him. Prometheus should not break. Prometheus should not yield. He should not.
The night after Melinoe had first duelled Prometheus, Aeschyne, Shame Incarnate, had arrived upon the Crossroads. Traitors of Olympus were many, and Shame Incarnate had come to collect her dues.
The night Lady Aeschyne had arrived, the shades of the Crossroads fell silent. They avoided Aeschyne's gaze. They acted on their best behaviour. For amongst mortals, the work of Aeschyne was well-known. Treat others around you well, for to recklessly sin was to attract the attention of Shame. To hide your mistakes was no use, for every crime had a witness and Shame's gaze revealled all. Do not be branded by her Mark of Shame, for in life, you would be condemned by others, and in death, you would be doomed to Tartarus. Melinoe never thought there would come a night when Shame would deem someone Divine to be deserving to be branded by her Mark.
Melinoe found Aeschyne to be courteous but cold. Aeschyne often turned down Melinoe’s attempt at conversation to prompt her into her task of killing Chronos. Sometimes, Melinoe looked Aeschyne in the eye to satisfy the curiosity of what others thought of her. There was disappointment. There was pity. Melinoe often dared not look further. Aeschyne’s keepsake for Melinoe had been an inky tear within a blue glass vial– it slowed down foes for the first few moments of an encounter. Nemesis had told Melinoe that she and Aeschyne had worked together under the Temple of Justice. When the temple and the Goddess of Virtue, Astraia, disappeared, the two marauded the land, enacting justice in her stead. Following the disappearance of Nyx and the start of the current war, Nemesis had gone to the Crossroads, and so Aeschyne carried their work in delivering justice alone.
The moment Aeschyne had awakened, she walked past Nemesis and beckoned her to the training grounds with as little as a head nod. “Might as well,” Nemesis muttered under her breath before she followed her.
Melinoe watched Nemesis and Aeschyne practise on the training grounds. The Orichalcum hook Aeschyne wielded, Bdellodont, clashed with Stygius. Aeschyne swung that hook from a chain, and with a swipe of her arm, it could also reattach to the cuff to be wielded like a sickle. Nemesis and Aeschyne paralleled each other in strength and height. It was easy for Melinoe to imagine why they were able to work together once.
“So you’re back empty-handed, and that Titan’s still out there,” Nemesis brought up between clashes of their blade.
Aeschyne retreated and she cleared her throat. “I reached him. But I was tardy, distracted, and I could not bring Prometheus back here. Next time, I shall tire him out further. He would do a heel kick that’s rather hard to dodge. Let’s practise that. Please.”
With a glower, Nemesis put her hands on her hips. “I can’t set my limbs on fire, Anchovy. You do realise the best training would be to duel with the real deal, right?”
Aeschyne turned her head towards the surface route. With very little hesitation, she marched. “You’re correct. If that Titan is still on the mountain, I shall not rest.”
Nemesis clasped a hand on her shoulder. “We need a new plan. Headmistress said to cut out your attempts to bring Prometheus here. She pointed out that whatever jail we make at the Crossroads wouldn’t be secure enough.“
Aeschyne’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she wrestled free of Nemesis’ grasp. “But Prometheus has never been so close! He was right within…” Aeschyne closed her eyes. She breathed out and bowed her head in embarrassment. “Yes. I should have thought of a better way to contain him than endangering our camp with his presence. I was impatient.”
Melinoe remembered how Aeschyne dragged Prometheus down Olympus, even as he set her on fire. She remembered how Prometheus had stumbled upon his feet with haunted eyes and his hands clutched in his hair. When Melinoe had battled Prometheus that night, his strikes were more hesitant. It was different from how Prometheus fought on other nights, where his dwindling lifeforce seemed to empower him. For all his talk about how his body could not break, it seemed that the mind of Prometheus could be daunted.
“My trip to the Summit was easier last night, despite your setbacks,” Melinoe said to Aeschyne. “Your efforts were not for nothing.”
The two had not noticed Melinoe until this point. At the sight of Melinoe, Aeschyne straightened her posture and bowed with grace. “It relieves me to hear I’ve eased your ascent, Your Highness.”
Nemesis scoffed and crossed her arms. “This is a training site, not a funeral.“
Aeschyne glanced up at her with a familiar annoyance. “We are only visitors to this abode, Nemesis. Even you. It’s our duty to be good guests.”
“If ‘duty’ is to kiss ass, would you do that?”
Aeschyne stood up straight and glared at Nemesis. She opened her mouth, but stopped herself and breathed out. “You’ve better priorities than to start a quarrel. Or is your duty retributing your own ego?”
Nemesis snorted. She hung her sword over her shoulder and marched up the stairs. “Just saying, no need to be such a doormat around the Princess here. Last thing that had squashed ‘Her Highness’ Mel was a hippocampus.”
Nemesis shot Melinoe a glance, and she winced. A hippocampus had indeed been the last foe that had vanquished Melinoe. As her Evil Eye keepsake knew, Nemesis did also.
Melinoe thought. So determined was Aeschyne to fulfill her task, yet what had been the source of her rush? “Forgive what I shall ask, Lady Shame, but… you mention that you’ve always been trying to catch Prometheus. Yet it is only recently that he has broken out of his imprisonment. Why, if he was already serving his sentence?”
Before Aeschyne could reply, Nemesis stopped and shot a piercing glare over her shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in the Fields right about now?”
Aeschyne held out a hand to stop Nemesis. “If the Princess wishes to know, she shall.” Aeschyne gripped the edge of her navy veil. Melinoe held her breath as Aeschyne began to lift. What did her hidden appearance have to do with her pursuit of Prometheus? When she saw the face of Aeschyne, Melinoe’s blood froze.
Aeschyne was a spitting image of Prometheus. No wonder those eyes were red, for they were the same colour. The angle of her nose, the way her cheekbones curved. Even her gaze looked eternally burdened by matters others did not know. Melinoe remembered how Prometheus stared at where he had burnt Aeschyne into ash.
“Last night, when Prometheus set you on fire… he killed his own child?”
Aeschyne made a low, sarcastic laugh from deep within her chest, just like Prometheus did. “If I’m not his mortal son Deucalion, I don’t count.”
“Deucalion, the first king… yes, the mortal Prometheus raised as his own son. Did Prometheus favour him over you?”
“Aeschyne never knew Prometheus,” Nemesis spat. “Prometheus knocked up his wife and made her raise their two kids alone.”
Melinoe covered her hand over her mouth. She lowered it and tightened it into a fist. “To abandon his family in servitude of his plan… I cannot fathom it. If you cannot collect your dues just yet, Aeschyne, the next time I vanquish that Titan shall be on your behalf.”
Aeschyne’s brow raised in silent relief as she gazed back at Melinoe. Without her veil, the effects of her power were stronger. It confused Melinoe when she heard the praise of others about Melinoe’s deeds and talents. In that moment, Melinoe felt brave.
“No. The next night you vanquish Prometheus, don’t do so on behalf of me. Vanquish him on behalf of Ephyra.”
Ephyra. Melinoe remembered that necropolis, how the bodies of the dead roamed those streets. On some nights, they would raise their heads at the statues of Hades they had made in life. For all the talk of Prometheus about fighting for mortals, Melinoe did not understand why Ephyra was not spared. Sometimes, Melinoe wondered. Did Prometheus value their lives less for worshipping Melinoe’s mother and father? Melinoe stood up tall and brandished her spectral arm. “Of course. I shall make that Titan rue what he’d done to that town.”
Aeschyne broke off eye contact, and the voices ceased. She draped her veil back over her face. Did Aeschyne purposefully embolden Melinoe for such a promise? “My mother indeed raised Deucalion and me alone, and Prometheus deserves no grace for her work. Prometheus has more to answer for than what he did to my family. He had bestowed a great debt upon the mortalkind he thought he’d freed.”
Melinoe tilted her head at Aeschyne’s words. “Debt? What do you mean?”
“Mortals miss the Golden Age that Prometheus ended, Princess. They say their lives have decayed into the Iron Age– the rot first started when Prometheus stole fire. The dusk of history is upon us, and every mortal generation shall be weaker than the last.”
While Melinoe had always found mortal life to be tragically short and finite, such a description was so bleak. “Is that what mortals believe? But surely not all mortal life goes to waste. While their way of living is not perfect, it’s still one that has made many of our best shades here in the Crossroads.”
“Mortals could have had a better world,” Aeschyne spat at her. Aeschyne winced, regretful of her sudden outburst, and sighed. Through the draping of her veil, Melinoe could see how her brow furrowed in sorrow. “Forgive me, Princess. In another world where mortals are wholly perfect, perhaps they can be trusted to do as they please. In this one, they need us Gods to set a good example for them. Mortals can enact cruelty upon each other, yes, but they are frightened animals, suddenly left alone with fire. I’ve never understood why Prometheus decided that their best interest would be to neglect them.”
Nemesis looked down and pressed her violet lips thin. "In that better world, mortals would be perfect. They would not be able to do wrong, so there would not be a need for us, would there?"
Aeschyne sat down to look at Nemesis in the eye, and Nemesis raised her head to meet her gaze. Did it gladden Nemesis to see how others feared her name? Or was she cautious, lest she be overconfident? "Noble Nemesis. If we have a purpose in this world, we shall enact it with dignity.”
Nemesis narrowed her golden gaze. “We're brawn to bludgeon the odd sinner there and there, Anchovy. Don't get too cocky about how important our work is.”
Melinoe furrowed her brow. "Nemesis? I thought you'd say Prometheus was right to be furious at Olympus. And yet you assist the vengeance of Lady Aeschyne here?"
Nemesis narrowed her eyes at Melinoe. "Answer me, Princess. Which is a worse slight? Getting arrested because someone in charge wouldn't let you steal fire? Or getting abandoned by your father so that your family must rely on the same Gods that he had condemned?"
Melinoe looked away. "They're both... rather unsavoury."
"So? Let both sides duke it out and get what they deserve," Nemesis shrugged. "Prometheus got to burn Mount Olympus. Aeschyne gets to give her deadbeat dad a thrashing. Everyone gets even."
Aeschyne breathed out through her nose and the fabric of her veil rippled. "Still dignifying all grudges, you." She turned towards Melinoe. "Princess Melinoe. Nemesis simply desires to hold everyone accountable. She is truly impartial... despite her tendency to contradict herself."
"Hey," Nemesis interjected. "I'm consistent. I don't change my decisions on a whim. And you..." Nemesis' golden eyes seemed to turn considerate as she looked at Aeschyne. "I don't know Prometheus. But I know that something unfair has happened to you. You never complain. You just... thank whatever you're given and stay resourceful, again and again. Your gaze have a power that others are afraid of, and yet you use it to determine who is safe and who is not. We do grunt work, herding mortals to do what the Gods need them to, and yet you find dignity in it. For crying out loud, your title is Shame because your father is a convict, and yet you find purpose in your domain anyway. But that's all how you cope when everything else was decided for you. You pledging to seek vengeance on Prometheus, who's why you are here in the first place... this is the first time I've seen you want something for yourself. Who am I to deny that?"
Aeschyne was stunned as her ruby eyes stared at Nemesis. She looked away to gaze at the crescent moon and shining stars above. "You are... correct that I would choose a different life than this," Aeschyne finally said. Aeschyne furrowed her brow as she held her hands together, and Melinoe could see that she was sorting through many complicated feelings. "And you are also correct in that Prometheus had decided my fate on my behalf. I don't care about myself, as long as I could make myself useful. But Prometheus has done wrong to my brother and my mother. Creating Deucalion when he would have been forced to survive a flood. Seducing my mother out of her native waters in order to leave her widowed in a foreign land. All for... what? Fire? When he could have asked for it? When he could have found another way?"
Nemesis stabbed Stygius into the ground. "Now that Prometheus is an enemy of Olympus, capturing him would only be a matter of patience."
Aeschyne adjusted the cuff of her hook to as she looked at the gate to the surface. Aeschyne’s gaze hardened, and Melinoe recognised that piercing fortitude much like her own. “As soon as Tartarus and the Underworld are liberated, I'll go collect him. We bring him to Deucalion first. Then my mother, and the shades of Ephyra. Until then? I shall make him sorry, again and again.”
In an abandoned chamber on Olympus, Heracles used a needle to stitch the hole in Prometheus’ tongue shut. Prometheus steadied his breathing as Heracles tugged the thread into a knot. With a dagger, Heracles severed the thread. “What a piece of work. Looks like you’ll finally be quiet for a while.”
Prometheus spoke anyway. “This... pain’s... nothing," he managed to say.
"You can't brute force your words," Heracles told Prometheus. “That wound will sting like the bite of a leech.“
Prometheus exhaled. With a hand balanced on his knee, Prometheus surveyed what the next few nights would look like. What Aeschyne had shown to him would stay in Prometheus’ mind longer than it should. It had broken Prometheus’ heart to have known that Deucalion had not enjoyed the freedom his father had gifted him. If Prometheus took full responsibility for the world of mortals, he must take responsibility for how he failed to stop more of the pain they endured. Was there nothing Prometheus could have done?
Prometheus blinked as a calloused hand snapped in front of his gaze. “Oi. Flame Thief. Get a grip. That doubt the gnat puts in you? This is how the Gods seize us.”
Heracles was right. Because Prometheus’ body would fail him over and over, it had to be the fortitude of his mind that would make him persist. To have it disturbed was already weakening him. Prometheus’ stomach lurched as a premonition came upon him. Aeschyne had told Melinoe about Ephyra, and the Agent of Change would torment Prometheus with such knowledge of his failure. Soon, such knowledge shall spread until all whisper among themselves what a hypocrite Prometheus was, willing to sacrifice the very mortals he claimed to fight for. Soon, even Deucalion would know.
Crack. Crack. Crack. The face of Prometheus shall shatter like porcelain.
Prometheus had not understood why he did not fight back in that vision of his, how hopeless his future self looked as he closed his eyes and accepted his fate. Perhaps Prometheus had made mistakes, yes, but to go gentle and drown in them would be to give up. Prometheus nodded, having acknowledged Heracles’ words.
Heracles’ stern golden gaze drifted outside the window. From where they sat, they could see the foot of Olympus, where there was an altar for sacrifices. Heracles looked so tired as he gazed at that altar. With one finger, Heracles pointed to a spot hidden by his beard. “I bore the mark of Shame right here once. Mine stung for… hm. The gnat dragged me there for my kin to find me. All those years I’ve wasted, redeeming myself with labours that would never cease.”
Of course. It was folly for Prometheus to believe that Aeschyne acted in the service of the greater good. What else was justice but a lie for those who ruled to do as they pleased upon the masses? Shame’s work was to strike the fear of the Gods into mortals and make them obedient. Worse yet, she made Prometheus doubt his own plan to free mortals from the reign of the Gods. Even this mark of shame was to silence those she deemed to be the wicked. All Aeschyne cared about mortals was how evoking their names made Prometheus writhe in regret.
“You’ll be freed,” Prometheus promised to Heracles, ignoring how much his wound stung.