Chapter 1: Sun, Moon and Polaris
Mount Olympus is enchanting, a sight adorned with elegance and allure, disrupting spatial laws—grafting geographical features on the summit of Greece.
Come wintry aura, the snow-capped crests bloomed in splendor by the virtue of a smiling sun, a halo formed around their pyramidal bodies; when the summer season came to be, the mountainous valley was an evergreen expanse, and so the birds fluttered against the zephyr wind, the birds’ hum drifts as any summertime pollen, their singing soft and mellow.
The gleaming sun loomed the azure from the far east and caressed the summit of Mount Olympus; and when the last of its rays kissed the earthen soil, when the azure had been dyed pomegranate pink, the sun whispered subtly to the moon wake up from the far west so he may rest from its days’ work. The moon fluttered her eyes, smiled softly, and rose from the east. The moon a beacon of light showered Mount Olympus in a full glow.
Mount Olympus is a sacred steep incline reaching the heavens and for this reason alone the gods chose to reside on this peak, governing the mortal world from the high.
Above the sea of clouds, there is a colonnade, the front colonnade adorned with exotic flowers was drunk with the aromas of late summer bloom, soothed by the waterfall between the two ponds as large as a small lake with Nymphaeaceaes (a type of water lily) and a wooden bridge crossing the middle. It is a verdant green oasis, a safe haven, a blissful paradise for the winds that howled and the heavy downpours never reached this utopia. It was always sunny and pleasant, breathing with fragrant allure.
The gods dwelt on their own chateau, all divinely intricate in design, a manifestation of the god’s grandiose demeanor and Zeus’ chateau was the most grand of all.
Early in the morning, Eos cast off the mists of the night, rosy fingers gleaming with rays of light. Within seconds, the darkness that stretched over the boundless expanse blended with tones of rosy wine and saffron amber, a subtle and aesthetic manner to welcome the new day. The transient authority of the moon faded into the spatial laws for the sun breached the horizon and the azure exploded with vibrant hues. Sunlight filled the air, gently kissing all living things.
The gods gathered in the chateau of their sovereign king, Zeus.
He sat on a golden throne and received the gods in the grand hall, his gestures superimposing, brimming with supreme might.
Soon after, music filled the air without effort, the Musae’s sang what could not be expressed, soothed what needed to be relieved, healed what needed to be mended. Some reacted whilst others continued to chatter, but regardless, the nine beautiful goddesses spoke to them in some manner.
Zeus peeked over to the side and noticed the absence of Hera, her seat rather desolate.
“Where is Hera?” He gazed to the gods, seriously asking.
Themis, the righteous goddess of divine law, natural order, and oracles of fate sat on the side of the throne, pegged as the lady of good counsel due to her prophetic oracles—oftentimes a counsel of Zeus over the precepts of divine laws and rules of fate, her destiny long intermingled with Zeus in the antiquity of the past.
Once she held his sphere of adoration, betrothed to the heavenly god, a consort to Zeus, but because of Hera, the two had long severed their affection.
She grew conscious of Zeus’ composure, noted his inquiry of Hera’s whereabouts, and her countenance grew blank and stupefied.
She thought of Leto (night goddess of motherhood and modesty) near childbirth, thought of Zeus’ composure losing a meager of its luster, thought of their hidden relation, that intricate and recondite mosaic of affection would forever go unnoticed, would be invariably overlooked, were it not for the observation of others.
They liked each other, that was all to it—only it was Leto’s ill luck and timing for Zeus had long formed an intimate relation with Hera.
In particular, the Moirae sisters of fate long confirmed Leto carried two unborn babes in her womb.
Whereas Hera fumed with resentment and deep rooted anger, Themis was indifferent to it all for Zeus had already given her bountiful blessings—children.
Leto carried Zeus’ children.
Zeus has yet to father a son.
Leto would give birth to both girl and boy.
Zeus would father a son.
Hera has yet to give birth to Zeus.
Such shameless circumstances felt as if the world delighted in her misery.
A resolution was made.
Themis would not give birth.
Hera in her jealousy declared Leto be banned from all lands, compelled all to shun her.
The pitiful night goddess hid in the western portion of Tibet near the Indus and Brahmaputra rivers. From there, Leto aimlessly wandered around in search for a safe haven where she could give birth. Finally, she found a nameless island on the Aegean Sea located on the northernmost part of the Greek Cyclades archipelago. It is mountainous with many fruitful and well-watered valleys.
This nameless island was the Delos Island.
Leto’s dear sister, the star goddess could not bear to witness seeing Leto suffer so Asteria pleaded Poseidon to help her. In spite of this, Hera declared the nameless island of Delos be prohibited to take root on the ocean floor, only able to drift on the endless sea.
… … …
Zeus called forth a meeting and summoned the deities.
Iris communicated the will of Zeus to the beings of heaven and earth; he asked the goddess of messenger to check on Leto’s current situation and once understanding all circumstances present did he call for the Moirae sisters of fate.
He spoke to Clotho.
“Leto is expecting. I’ve this intuition the children she carries will bring great glory to Olympus, becoming kings amongst gods. Help me see their arranged fate.”
Clotho was the eldest of the Moirae sisters, a weaver of the thread; she directed fate and observed the thread of destiny assigned to every being under the guidance of the eternal laws so destiny may take its course without slight obstruction—Zeus, the gods, mortals and all livings beings were without a choice but to submit to the eternal laws of fate and destiny.
Clotho shut her eyes tight as if trying to seek for something, focusing until all was clear. She slowly opened her eyes. The pools of her orbs were clear, reflecting all in her sight.
The draperies hung on the walls emitted a faint leafy green hue of light.
“I saw Sol bathed in sunlight, exposing the world with shades of truth, revealing the flaws of beings and deities; I saw Luna bathed in moonlight, lessening the sins and darkness of the night; I saw the ethereal cherub of day and night become the incarnation of light, a manifestation of purity; I saw leaders of Olympus; I saw a shepherd watching over in guidance; I saw our protector. I saw our crown of hope, our light in times of darkness—I saw power and beauty.”
The prophetic revelations induced Zeus’ cheerful mood. He raised a shot of glass, a toast to the future of Olympus.
Zeus sipped on his chalice and tilted his head. He faced Iris.
“Travel the seven seas and go to Poseidon. Tell him, my son… children must not be born on a desolate, nameless island.”
Zeus conveyed his wishes and respectfully turned to his mother the Titaness.
“Mother Rhea, let us go witness the birth of my children and your grandchildren.”
Rhea bore Zeus and Hera through Cronus. Zeus conjectured that with Rhea’s presence in the course of Leto’s childbirth, Hera would not cause any unfavorable moves to anger the Titaness, mother of the gods.
Thinking of this, Zeus spoke to Themis once more. “Hera has always respected you; I think it is best that you also go.”
Themis heeded the king of gods’ suggestion and left with Asteria.
The streams of sunlight filling every space between heaven and earth slept peacefully, replaced by the silver moon that hung high like a great luminous pearl showering on the breast of heaven and earthen soil.
With the advent of the moonlight glow, a little angel’s laughter came to be—the animals in the evergreen plains and forest looked towards the direction of the Aegean Sea. They ran in peace, in joy, in pleasure for a great deity was born.
Zeus who sat high in the thrones of Olympus heard the little angel of seraph’s laugher.
“The moon blesses you and all animals rejoices in unity. You shall be named Artemis.”
After the seventh day, the subtle and profound beauty of the moon had yet to disappear, only the slight fade into the background for a fraction of rest. The stretch of the sun appeared in the foreground and coalesced with the moon, forming an angelic blended tone. The sun and moon who rarely met, and almost always missed each other, the sign of gods its only form of connection, at this time, catched up and the world stared in awe.
The birds flew with the zephyr wind; mermaids rose from the depths of the ocean, their voice a pleasant melody; the wind carried the world’s wishes, carried their unheard prayers, their unsung love notes.
All was pleasant. It was peaceful.
The sunlight beamed and caressed the heavens and all corners of the world.
A loud cry of a small saintly cherub came to be.
Soon after, all divine scenery in the sky slowly disappeared into the unknown.
All was back to normal.
Zeus smiled. “The sun blesses you, and all living beings. You shall be named Apollo.”
As Zeus spoke of this, he failed to realize when those dreamlike scenery seemed to disappear, galaxies were woven together towards the Polaris constellation in the Northern Star, and under the starry night, a luminous starlight fell with the sun and moon.
From among Zeus’ treasure troves, he took out pairs of bow and arrows; one coated an aureate gold, and the other a silver, white snow. This treasures belonged to the primordial god, Ouranos, protogenos (primeval god) of the azure sky.
As Zeus prepared to personally gift the pair of gold and silver bow and arrow to his newborn offsprings, one of the Olympic gods came to report of Hera’s arrival.
Zeus hurriedly called for Iris and informed her to send his gifts in his behalf.
“The silver bow, with its omnipotent arrow will become Apollo’s right hand man; this golden bow and arrow will accompany the life of Artemis.”
… … …
When Iris brought the heavenly gift crafted from the hands of the primordial god, she was caught in surprise by the sight laid before her.
The nameless island of Delos brimmed with goddesses—there stood Rhea, the Titaness; the goddess of justice, Astrea (not to be confused with Asteria); Amphitrite, the wife of the god of the sea, and many of Poseidon’s offsprings; even Mother Gaia was there.
But what surprised her the most were the little angels. There were not two innocent little ones, but three.
The beautiful night goddess saw Iris, and looked unwittingly at the endless sky.
Her eyes were like two onyx gems slumbering in milky pools. They were a-smoulder with passion and had a hypnotic quality to them, gleaming with an unearthly quality above her concave cheekbones and shone with the faraway look of a star gazer.
She bit her lips. “Iris, you have come. Has our King said anything?” The summer sun leaked in and burnished her bronze with its rays.
Iris placed the heavenly treasure beside her. “By His own accord, the golden bow and arrow will accompany the life of Artemis and the silver bow and arrow will become Apollo’s right hand man.”
Leto’s full and pillowy lips parted slightly; a contrast to Leto’s calm composure, the other goddesses were at loss for words, but thereafter (with the exclusion of Leto), the goddesses observed the discrepancy between the third-born and the first two.
In conclusion, they thought, it is only proper Zeus is unwilling to name the third-born.
Artemis and Apollo’s divine gifts were ordained by the eternal laws of fate and heaven. Clotho’s prophetic decree gave indication of their boundless future. An otherworldly, divine view came to existence at the time of the first and second born’s birth. When Artemis and Apollo grow of age, their innate strength and divine gifts will long surpass the current generational gods.
The eldest sister, Artemis, subconsciously assisted the night goddess in her bouts of pain with her divine gift. As for Leto’s third born, the goddesses’ believed he will forever remain a generic, mediocre god for only a small insignificant star appeared towards the Northern Star.
Leto’s youngest could not compare. He is not as handsome as his elder brother nor as desirable as his elder sister. He had locks of sable-black and a pair of champagne-black eyes. For the remainder of his life, he will remain in the shadow of his eldest siblings.
Were it not for the presence of the gods, he would live well. Were it not for his eldest sister and brother, he would live well. Were it not for the prophetic oracle, he would live well.
But such is the fate of destiny.
It blesses and curses.
However, Leto adored her third-born child. He inherited her traits; her tresses of obsidian-black swooped over her shoulder and her dewy, onyx-raven colored eyes were very much like hers, like the colors of the night. She thought this child of hers to be just as handsome as his elder brother and just as desirable as his elder sister.
At night, a banquet was held. Canapes, wine, and conversations clothed the island for several days before returning to the silent night.
… … …
Leto caressed Artemis in her embrace on her left arm, Apollo on her right; as for her third, Adellos, he cooed and slept peacefully at the cradle of her feet.
Her son did not receive the blessing of Zeus so Leto gave him the name Adellos, a tribute to the floating island under her feet, and as means to thank her dear sister, Asteria.
Adellos’ raven-colored eyes fluttered. He awoke and turned his small, lithe body, gazing at his brother and sister.
It is fair the first and second born child of Leto’s are deserving of the awe and recognition as the future of Olympus. The figure of Artemis and Apollo grew to such extent after a few months. They looked to be at least three years of age and Adellos left behind, could be comparable to a mortal child learning to walk.
Adellos turned the opposite direction. A heavy knot formed deep within and the little child sighed. When will you wake up? Adellos looked pitiable. When his consciousness awakened, all fit into place. He came to a sudden bout of realization that he’d come to the era of Ancient Greece—it was not the ancient Greece of history, but the ancient Greece of mythology.
His mother the beautiful night goddess; father king of gods; and his elder brother and sister are his sun and moon. In this life, it is a dangerous world. The gods messed around with the lives of man and deities for simple entertainment, so Adellos thought it much safer to live with his elder brother and sister.
Leto saw Artemis and Apollo’s appetite satiated and set them down, allowing them to play. Apollo grabbed the silver bow and ran towards the wilderness. Artemis hurried to Adellos’ side, and teased him with her cute, little fingers. Adellos saw this and began to cry.
The night goddess heard the wailing cries of Adellos. She caressed him, whispering, its okay. Artemis’ mouthed quivered. Her eyes watery and on the verge of tears. Leto sighed helplessly. Leto picked her up and allowed her to play with her little brother.