He looked at the child lying on the breast of his wife. His brothers stood by his side. All of them were tall men, athletic and mighty. He was standing in the middle, the youngest but strongest. His brown beard, bronze skin, and blue eyes made him an impressive figure. His big hands were holding a wild orb of lightning, ravaging in the small space it was allowed. The middle brother on his left looked just like him, but with leathery skin and a black beard, with minor grey parts. In his hands laid a giant iron trident and his eyes were as blue as the sea. The last and eldest brother was also the smallest. He was pale as a dead; his long, white hair flooded his broad shoulders. His beard formed a small wall around his chin, falling to his belly. He was holding a black helmet of a strange, changing material. Every moment, new things could be seen on it. Faces, distorted in deadly fear, battles, and death scenes, one bloodier and more brutal than the next.
"Brother, do you think it's wise to keep the boy…? You know the prophecy. One of your sons…" started the middle one, but his younger brother interrupted.
"… will kill me, steal my power, ending the reign of Olympus. I know. Have heard it more than once."
"Yeah, and he is mighty, way stronger than Ares was as he was born. Stronger than Apollo, stronger than Hermes, stronger than all of them. It won't take long for him to grow to full, godly power.", whispered the oldest with a voice straight from the graves, sounding like he doesn't talk much.
"Right. And if he reaches his coming of age and decides to take the throne…" started the black-haired one, but again, he was interrupted.
"… we will take him on. He is one; we are twelve. He can get as mighty as he wants; we are mightier. When he wants to rebel, we will throw him to the parts of our father, Kronos, who once was king of the Titans. To the Giants, to the Hundredhanded, to the first of the Cyclopes, to the old monster Typhon and its strongest, oldest children. We will banish him into Tartarus as we did with all our enemies. We won't be beaten; our reign will go on into eternity."
"I don't think we can avoid the prophecy once he's fully grown. We have to act now or prepare for the consequences."
"It's not often that you and I share a point, younger brother. We have to banish him now, or we risk a war between our kin.", whispered the grey one.
"Poseidon… Hades… Enough. He's my son; I'm the one deciding his fate. He won't be banished until he does something wrong. And then, if he wants a fight, he can have one. We are prepared and strong enough to slay him."
"As you wish… Zeus, my brother and king.", whispered Hades, with muddy brown eyes full of anger and sorrow. "But I will keep my eyes on him."
"And I will do the same."
"Do as you wish. I won't stop you. Now go; I don't want to see your faces for now. I want some time with my wife." The order from Zeus, the deity of the sky, king of Mount Olympus, was nothing his elder brothers could deny. They left the palace, the god of the underworld, Hades, firstborn of Chronos, oldest of the Olympians, and Poseidon, ruler of the sea, creator of monsters and horses.
"It has no use; he won't come to sense. The child is dangerous; we have to act…."
"We can't. He will see it as treason, and we can't take him on. And even if we could, Hera would help him, and I'm pretty sure at least Hestia, Ares, and the Twins will take his side as well. The child is saved as long as he wants. You know that as well as I do." The whispers of Hades mainly were unheard, but he was talking the truth. Poseidon sighed. He looked tired. Then he nodded toward Hades and stomped his Trident on the ground. And then he was gone, only a shallow smell of seaweed and salty water. For a second, Hades seemed to be unsure if he should take his leave. But then he seemed to decide and turned into a liquid, boiling mass of shadow and was gone.
Zeus looked down on his wife, Hera, and his newborn son, lying on her chest. He was nothing more than a bundle of bright skin and white linen. So small, so helpless. That he, this little creature, would one day grow to a goddess that can take on the whole Olympus seemed so… unlikely.
"My brothers… They wanted to banish the boy down into the depths of Tartarus."
"You wouldn't let them, would you?" his wife asked, panicking.
"No… Never. He's my son—mine, and more importantly, yours. I know just how much you had to bear with me, and I know how much you love your children. I wouldn't dare to take him from you." She seemed relieved. But her husband didn't have much time.
"I will have to ask the Morien. I need their opinion on this matter. They will know what to do with the boy. If he's really the one, I will have to prepare. He's a deity; it won't take long until he's fully grown and powerful." And just like this, with a bolt of lightning, a growl of thunder, he was gone. Hera looked at the spot he was sitting just a moment ago. She still looked young, just like the last thousand years. But the ages took their toll on her. Each year, she feared the loss of a family member more and more wished for nothing more than peace. Her anger overflowed more quickly these days. She may have been cruel to the past lovers of her husband, but now, it was getting worse. Whenever she discovers a new betrayal by him, her punishments go harsher and more severe than ever. And now, in her mind, her own brothers, the uncles of her young baby boy, wanted to slaughter him. Hide him, lock him away. Away from the world, away from HER. Her own brothers, who once were sealed in the stomach of their own father, Kronos, together with her. Sudden hatred came over her.
"Never... They shall never lay even a finger on you…", she whispered into the boy's little ear while an evil smile grew over her face.
A sudden, faint fear came over his mind when Zeus reached the old cavern. The Moiren, Klotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, were entities even older than him. As daughters of Nyx, goddess of night, the chaos firstborn, they belonged to the most powerful, most feared deities. The destiny weavers, the ones who can decide over life and death, over glory or shame, over every little step every existence does. Even the gods were careful when dealing with them. As Zeus entered their home, a sudden, cold wind made him shiver. He did not dare bring his weapon, the mighty thunderbolt, which could even wound immortals so severely that they would need centuries to recover. While facing destiny themselves, all his might would mean nothing more than a word from their lips. The further he steps into the cavern, the colder it gets. A thin layer of frost builds on his skin, leaving a faint blue glimmer. His steps grew smaller, the coldness took its toll, even on a god. But still, after an endless time, he reached the end of the cavern. There, where was supposed to be the darkest place between the rocks was, instead, a gigantic hall. Moss and seaweed grew everywhere, and a strange, cold blue light filled everything in a shallow tone. And in the middle of it all, three shadowy figures grew up till the cavern's roof. They didn't have a physical appearance; they were like fog. Slim limbs, humanoid but way too thin, moved in the nothingness. One holding a string, reaching out to the spindle in the hands of the second, while the third hat a giant knife, cutting the spinning thread whenever it seemed to be necessary. As soon as Zeus entered, the place where a normal human shadow would have a proper head seemed to move towards him. The shadows showed an evil grin: opened mouths, teeth like those of monsters. Clawlike fingers stretched towards him, just stopping out of reach. But the others didn't stop their work, and now there were way too many hands for those who were in the cavern.
"Zeus, king of Mount Olympus… Youngest son of the titan king Kronos, the titan of time, slayer of Uranus, his father. You are just like him, and your fate will be his. We told you so, a long, long, even longer time ago. A time ago, when the mountains weren't there, when the gods were nothing more than children. We told you everything we could tell you, yet you stand before us again. What do you want?" asked a snaring, dark voice, not male, not female. It hovered from the cavern walls, loud and clear but changing in tone, like a wave, when it grew nearer.
"I have to ask… My son… is he the one? Do I have to fight him one day?"
"Your fate is to be overthrown by your son. We can't tell you who he will be, just that it will be your son." The voice changed; now, it sounded way friendlier, way cleaner than before. Like a different person, even though it was unclear who talked.
"But my newborn… What is his fate? What can you tell me about him?"
"Not more than about every other of your sons. He will be a great man, as great as his father or even greater. The fates of your children are never written in stone. They are a playball of destiny, and only destiny itself knows what will happen in the future."
"So you don't want to tell me, Morien? Me, Zeus, slayer of Kronos, king of Mount Olympus, first of the Olympians? Mightiest of the gods? I shall bring my rage over you, shall crack your spindle, set the thread of destiny on fire!" screamed Zeus angrily. The next moment, the cavern changed. It was cold before, but from one moment to the next, it was freezing. The god gasped for air, but the icy wind burned in his throat like blades. The shadows, gigantic before, now were even bigger, seemed to fill the world. Black, foggy hands wrapped themselves around his body, lifting him from the ground like he was an infant and not a god. The monstrous, shadowy faces were now right before him, and as he tried to break free, they started screaming at him.
"YOU, FATHERSLAYER, YOU SHALL HAVE HIS DESTINY! BE OVERTHROWN BY A SON WAY GREATER THAN YOU! WAY MORE POWERFUL, A NEW RACE OF DEITIES. TREMBLE BEFORE THE FUTURE, YOUNG EAGLE; IT IS DIRE FOR YOU, AND YOUR EFFORTS ARE IN VAIN!"
As soon as they ended, the whole world seemed to be spinning, fast, faster. Colors mixed to stripes. Even faster. A wild mix of lights. Then darkness. As he woke up, he was outside, at the place where the entrance to the cavern was just a few minutes – or where it hours? Days? – ago. And now, he knew what was coming.