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Chapter Fourteen

Prometheus

I was created to harness power and produce creative thought. I was meant to hunt down knowledge previously hidden and learn how to wield it into usefulness. Once, it was my calling to direct the mortals in this same pursuit.

But the war stripped me of that purpose and dwindled at my power. Now I lie prostrate on my back, devoid of strength and filled with shame.

The Creator punished my kind for turning against those He assigned us to protect. Yet, Atum never raised a hand against the apple of the Creator’s eye, but he suffers along with those who have. Zeus, the leader of this rebellion, should be the weakest of all, yet some secret knowledge seems to be feeding him power.

Atum always tells me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust. He says that because we all live in a world wrecked by disorder we must endure the consequences even as we try to undo them. The other option is to hope that the Creator intervenes and we all get dragged down to the Underworld and forced to make another vow on the River Styx, because apparently none of us are pure enough to escape His wrath.

I guess I’ll have to settle with escaping Zeus’.

Hebe hums, drawing me out of my thoughts. I’m not sure she even realizes she’s doing it. My mortal bride is quite focused on her task, skinning the lion that almost made me its meal.

Only torment awaited me if that lion consumed me. I am not so foolish to think that being broken into pieces and digested would be enough to slay me. Not with the Creator’s promise that I shall not see death until I have an heir of my own bloodline.

I would have wished for death, though. Even if Atum weren’t so weak, I don’t think he could have called upon enough of his power over life to help heal me. That aspect of his abilities can only be fueled by another’s love for the patient, and no one cares that much for me.

Except . . .

I’m a little bruised from the fight, and I feel my body already knitting itself together as much as it can with my low energy stores. But those are my only woes because a mortal risked her life to rescue mine. A mortal who, with her quiet cleverness, is restoring my strength faster than when I last suffered such depletion. Just as Atum draws upon love, I am fueled by mortal ingenuity. It has been so long since I have experienced that well of strength.

Mayhap the Creator has deigned to show me some mercy after all though I am not one of His beloved mortals. And for Him to show it through a mortal . . .

Back when mortals could pursue more than just their survival, I always thrived. But even one mortal using ingenuity is certainly helpful to my regeneration.

Opening my eyes a little more, I watch Hebe work. Though I can tell she is also exhausted from the day, she works with a precision that will allow the skin to still be useful even after she’s cared out the meat we so desperately need. I may not be capable of sleep, but I do need to eat— but only ambrosia or an offering from a mortal will give me true sustenance.

“You’re skilled at this,” I whisper.

Hebe glances at me over her shoulder. The encroaching shadows conceal the filth coating her. Now she is only a silhouette with a strong nose and eyes that gleam even in the darkness. “Well, an impenetrable hide might prove useful.”

I position my elbows beneath me so that I’m not completely prostrate any longer. I want to better see the woman who slew a lion for me. “Your people sacrificed the best of themselves when they put you on that altar, didn’t they?”

She turns away from me, and the dusk seems so much darker without the fire gleaming in her eyes. “I was the oldest unwed maiden. That was what made me both a worthy sacrifice and expendable.”

There is a pang of sorrow in her tone. I stare for a long moment, not how to address it. Primordials are rarely free with their emotions, and I had begun to wonder if my bride even possessed any.

“You’re not . . . you’re not expendable,” I finally manage. Because after a lifetime of pursuing knowledge, I have somehow evaded the secret of comforting a woman in pain.

Hebe still doesn’t face me. “Says the man who wanted to abandon me after only a day of marriage.”

“I am a Primordial. It is in my nature to look down on mortals. But for your people to look down on their own is wrong.”

It becomes too dark for Hebe to continue her work, so she abandons it and turns completely to me. Suddenly, the gleam in her eyes seem sharper than the claws she was just wielding. “So your people do not have their own hierarchies— both real and perceived?”

I wince. Mayhap it is not such a good thing to have a clever bride after all. “Be that as it may, despite your earlier claim, your people clearly sacrificed one of their better warriors.”

Hebe snorts at that. “Far from it. I only fought because I had nothing left to lose.”

“Well, I had everything to lose, so thank you.”

She turns to me in surprise. “I’ll admit, I was frightened while you battled this beast—” Hebe pats the hide of the downed lion. “Were you frightened? I mean, gods can’t die . . . can they?”

Well, I am absolutely not bringing the subject of Ascendants into this conversation. Zeus might think all mortals should be wiped out for their potential to become god-killers, but I think simple ignorance is the best protection against such things. “It was not death I feared, but being consumed alive by that creature. My kind cannot escape to the Underworld like yours does.”

Hebe inhales sharply. Then, to my great surprise, she places one tiny hand on mine in what I believe is meant to be a comforting gesture.

I gaze at my wife in the darkness and realize I’ve never truly seen her before this. This bond isn’t the only secret knowledge to explore. Hebe is an enigma all on her own. Her secrets are more enticing than anything I have sought before.

I open my mouth to ask so I can begin this journey of discovery, but then something crashes to the ground.

Startling, I turn as much as I can in my exhaustion.

Atum’s silhouette stands over me. “I found firewood!”

Since it’s safe to do so without discovery, I scowl at my soon-to-be-former master. How dare he interrupt this chance of discovery?

I turn back to see Hebe pulling away quickly to arrange Atum’s firewood.

Even though there is much left to learn, this night has made two things abundantly clear. One, I must go to Zeus. We might have enough time to get to the temple before Zeus recovers, but then I will have to leave posthaste.

The second realization of the night is that I will not go to Zeus alone. I shall be taking my bride with me.