How to Be a God [ManXMan]

Chapter Seven: Cook's Choice

~Chapter Seven: Cook's Choice~

The bronze statue shines under the late afternoon light that filters into the dusty temple. It looks nothing like what I expected, as I expected it to be an exact replica of the man supposedly inside. However, it looks like a stranger. It is even slightly smaller than the Atlas I remember. Atlas standing height is almost five metres, but this statue is closer to my height of a little under four and a half.

Though, at the moment, since I have adopted my lesser, human height to keep from drawing attention, as the Greek gods may be watching over this somewhat-hidden temple, the statue now towers over me. Without my normal height, they likely think me nothing more than a human who stumbled upon this once-holy place. This place being Atlas's old temple, which now lays mostly in ruin after what the humans are now calling the Titanomachy. Only, they have the wrong idea of who the bad side was in that war. But then, it is the victor who writes history, not the loser.

"Atlas," I murmur, wanting to finally see the Titan I came all the way here for.

The war that should only have lasted a few weeks, at most, did not end for ten years. I only received letters from my lover during that time, as Atlas was never allowed to enter Faerie – no Greek was. Thankfully, time moves differently – slower, one could say – in Faerie, so those ten years that the war waged on felt like only one. It made it easier to bear, though I was still displeased that he was fighting in a war without me by his side.

From the letters I received at first, the Titans seemed to be doing quite well in the war, as they are far more powerful than the younger gods in just about every way. However, two Titans turned traitor – most noticeably was Atlas' brother, Prometheus – and that turned changed things for the Titans. Then Zeus released the Cyclops and the Hekatonkheires, a terrifying combination, to fight for his side. And in the end the Titans fell. While I am angered by the Greek gods for punishing their parents, perhaps I should be pleased that the two traitor Titans were punished as well.

My stay in Faerie had not ended with the war, though. The Greek gods, unsatisfied with their own kingdom, had begun to test out the weaknesses of other pantheons in an attempt to see if they could be easily conquered. Not only that, but many concerning things began to happen inside that pantheon. Mainly, disagreements among the 'Big Twelve', as some Greek gods called themselves, and the harsh punishments of the humans living under their pantheon.

The Dagda – my uncle was correct in his assumption of who would be taking Lugh's place – did not want me or many of the other young gods of our pantheon to be in danger unless absolutely necessary during this period of uneasy. Not only was I left in Faerie with my uncle for another few centuries, many of the lesser gods were, as well. No one told me what came of Atlas after the Titans' fall, though I suspect no one but the Greeks knew and they were not telling anyone, despite all their gloating.

When I was finally allowed to leave Faerie, it was the year 479 A.D. – the Dagda was a fool for thinking me too young to fight in the many wars, but me calling him that did not seem to change his mind – and so much had changed. I immediately went on a search for Atlas, though I had little hope that he was still somewhere I could reach him at the time. It took me nearly ten years just to learn that Atlas was not thrown into a dark pit in the Greek Underworld with most of the other Titans, and another fifteen years to actually locate this infuriating statue. I still had no idea what needed to be done at the time, though, which cost me another four years.

However, now I finally know what needs to be done. As I am the magic god of another pantheon, I would be incredibly hard, if not impossible, to enter the Greek Underworld and free any of the Titans strong enough to break the magic on this statue, but I can still free Atlas so he can either break the spell himself or find someone who can. Hands of the willing, the Greek prophet had said.