The Primordials Book One - Olympus: A Pantheon Divided

Chapter One - What Was

"There was first a golden race of mortal men who lived in the time of Cronos when he was reigning in heaven. They lived like gods without sorrow or toil, and they did not know Old Age.

And although they died, it was as if they were overcome with sleep. It is said that the earth bare them fruit abundantly and yielded without compulsion all needful things.

For spring was everlasting, streams of milk and nectar, and honey was distilled from the oak."

-- Carlos Parada

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Such was a time before our children ruled over the earth.

The Great Battle tore the cosmos into two, as if we could claim it was ever one in the first place. For ten years, we battled in the stars and on the ground, only to be beaten into submission by those we should have cherished.

By those he should have loved.

For ten long and dreadful years, war ravaged the heavens and rendered its children asunder. For what, you ask? His paranoia imprisoned him, too great to save him -- to save any of us. They banished us all with him, either to Tartarus or to dine forever with the fleeting mortals.

For the sins of the father, indeed.

I was not as strong as the others, nor did I committ to my great father's sin. Into the abyss in chains, they cast me still. There is nothing to recall there but darkness. There is no light to keep it at bay. I was too weak, too afraid.

And so, I chose the mortals. On my honor, there was no other way.

I am as guilty as anyone, having betrayed my brothers and sisters to those who overpowered them. I could not help it, falling prey to him. It was wrong of him -- wrong of them -- to treat us so.

But his betrayal was the worst of all.

Heaven is lost to us now and forevermore, and there is nothing I can do but regret, to try to forget my past.

To remember the beginning.

I would even say it is unfair, but that would be foolish of me. I should know by now that nothing is ever fair, not in this life or the next. They never listened to me, my kin. I warned them, all of them. But they never listened to me. There were only so many times I could stand being ignored before I gave in.

Before I simply let the Battle come to me.

As the mortals like to say, 'History repeats itself.' This is a painful truth I know all too well, because all I can do is remember it all. Such is my curse.

There is too much of this pain because they do not know, the mortals. But I know. I know, and I will never forget. It will fade for them, but I can never forget.

The day we thought we won the Battle: in truth, we lost the entire war.

And now there is nothing to keep Heaven from devouring us all.

Even as the abyss crumbles, they will come, and devour us all...