Ch. 56: The Chains of Prometheus (II)
I stepped forward, my eyes narrowing on Prometheus’ aged and withered face. “Are you saying you truly don’t know who Pandora is? I thought you knew the name of every human you sculpted,” I said, probing, my voice laced with doubt.
Prometheus let out a stifled, rasping laugh, shaking his head. “Mocking me, godling? My children have evolved far beyond my reach. Their faces, their names—like sand slipping through my fingers. How could I remember them all?”
Was he dodging my question? His gaze held no trace of deceit, only weary resignation, but something about his demeanor unsettled me. His ignorance seemed genuine, but why did that only raise more questions?
I tried to ease the tension between us. “I didn’t come here to drag up old wounds. I just—how has your time been here, Prometheus?”
His eyes flickered, and a faint smile tugged at his lips, though it was devoid of any warmth. “Hellish,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from centuries of torment. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Time… time means little to me now. It’s a fleeting, slippery thing.” His smile twisted into something darker. “But I doubt you came here just for a friendly chat. No one visits me for that.”
I bit my lip, uncertain how to proceed. “You must still resent me for the punishment I issued. But I need something from you—something critical.”
Prometheus chuckled, the sound hollow, but there was no malice behind it. “Resentment? Oh, I don’t have time for such trivial things anymore. Time devours grudges just as it devours us all. Besides, you once saved humanity. Too bad that very act will one day be your downfall.”
My pulse quickened at his cryptic words. “What are you trying to imply, Titan?” I demanded, bracing myself.
Prometheus’ eyes flashed with a piercing intensity, making my skin crawl. For a fleeting moment, I felt a presence looming behind him, a vast, monstrous silhouette, coiling in the shadows like a beast. Its form was indistinct, but its power was undeniable. My breath hitched, and my chest tightened under its weight.
“You’ll understand soon enough,” Prometheus said, his voice soft but brimming with ominous certainty. “Time is fleeting, remember? It’s always been my gift and curse. I knew you would come before you did. You seek answers about my brother, Epimetheus, don’t you? You have a crisis brewing.” His lip curled into a sneer. “Epimetheus… that cowardly fool. He’s an embarrassment to our kind. Don’t waste your time with him.”
My heart raced. How did he know? No one could’ve told him—he’d been shackled here for eons. Sweat gathered on my brow, and I couldn’t help but stare at the ominous shadow that had flickered behind him. Was this the true power of a Titan, even one bound and crippled by chains?
The air around us grew heavy with tension, but Prometheus merely chuckled again, the darkness receding as quickly as it had appeared. “Relax, boy. I’m not going to destroy you. Not yet. You still have a role to play. But don’t worry—you’ll have a front-row seat to the fall of this so-called empire of gods.”
I exhaled sharply, a wave of relief washing over me. “Prometheus, I know you still bear hatred for the gods, but how did you know I was coming here? Who told you?”
He sighed, tugging at the chains that bound him to the rock, his movements slow and strained. “Hatred?” he mused, his voice softening, turning inward as if speaking to himself. “No, what I feel now is beyond hatred. I’ve had centuries to foster something far darker. These chains… they’ve become heavier with each passing day. The weight presses on my soul, suffocating me. My thoughts, once clear and sharp, are now like a box of spilled crayons. Disordered. Tumbling.”
His words confused me, but more than that, they disturbed me. There was something broken in him, something not entirely sane. A chill wind swept through the cave, sending my hair whipping around my face, and for the first time, I noticed how frail he looked, how hollow his cheeks were, his eyes sunken but still burning with an unfathomable light.
“The chains you speak of… are they merely physical, or is there something else? A burden of the mind?” I ventured, trying to understand his cryptic ramblings.
A slow, twisted grin spread across his face. “Ah, so now you’re a doctor, or perhaps a detective?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “If you’re here to fix me, then leave. I don’t need a healer, and I won’t tell you a thing.”
I exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “You’re as problematic as ever, Prometheus. And here I thought you’d be of some use to me. How shortsighted.”
“Shortsighted?” His voice boomed, and in an instant, a wave of energy blasted me backward. My feet slid across the ground as I struggled to maintain my balance. His eyes blazed, fury radiating from him like a storm. “In all the Titans, I alone foresaw the outcome of the war. That is why I allied with the gods against Cronos. You think I was weak? Foolish? No, boy. I knew how the tide would turn long before it happened. My power was not strength but foresight.”
His right eye glowed with a white, misty light, and for a moment, I felt as if he were staring straight into my soul. My limbs trembled, my body suddenly feeling like lead under the weight of his gaze. “You… can see the future?” I whispered, dread pooling in my stomach.
“Indeed. And I predict that you will change the fate of this world.” He relaxed, the glow fading from his eye. “This eye of foresight… it’s caused me nothing but trouble. But I have no use for it anymore. Let’s make a wager, you and I. I’ll give you my eye—and in return, you’ll witness the world I plan to create.”
I stared at him, incredulous. “What kind of madness is this?”
“What are you really implying, Prometheus?” My voice cut through the heavy air, each word laced with a sharpness that echoed against the cavern walls. His claims stirred unease within me, a ripple of doubt. Was Prometheus ever able to see into the future in the stories? The old tales spoke of his defiance, his fire, but never foresight. I couldn’t help myself— I had to test him.
“Prove it,” I challenged, my tone unwavering. “Prove you can see the future.”
For a moment, Prometheus stared at me, his gaze empty and distant, as if the weight of centuries rested in his tired eyes. Then, his face broke into a wide grin, and a raspy, hollow laugh escaped him, filling the silence with an unsettling echo. “This… this is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Do you think I need to prove anything to you?” His laughter died down, his expression shifting into something more cryptic. “You want to know why I created humanity, don’t you?”
My breath caught in my throat. He knows. My body stiffened as a chill slid down my spine. That was exactly what I had intended to ask. He hadn’t even given me the chance to speak it aloud. I stood frozen, my heart beating faster as his words hung in the air. He smiled at my reaction, knowing he had pierced through my thoughts.
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