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Redemption
Prologue
The torchlight flickered as a slight draught blew through cracks in the ancient mortar. The sound of shuffling feet and clanging metal echoed through the corridor into the surrounding chambers. Muffled voices grew louder and suddenly frantic gestures created flickering shadows on the wall, contrasting with the solemn darkness.
“Well my plan would have worked last time if it weren’t for those blasted chickens!”
“Chickens?” Eurystheus exclaimed. “Chickens? Sciron, there are no chickens in the underworld!”
Sciron stopped and pondered this revelation. “Dead chickens then,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“Oh,” Eurystheus shrugged, and they all continued moving down the corridor.
Julius Caesar raised his manacled arm and smacked his forehead in disbelief. He was surrounded by idiots.
All of this began when the lord of the underworld, in an effort to stay relevant in the ever changing times, decided to adopt a more modern approach when dealing with his charges. They were calling it the “Italian method.” Each mortal received punishment specific for his various vices during his time on earth. For example, on Monday, the lustful were battered by violent storms that mirrored their passions. Tuesday brought punishment for Ire. The dead sloshed around in the mire of the Styx, lashing out and clawing at each other while trying not to drown. Caesar sneered incredulously. While he was ruling the Empire, he certainly never heard of such rubbish.
Today was Thursday, Greed, meaning that those who wanted more than their fair share spent the solar day pushing giant boulders across a field and futilely smashing into each other. To make things more interesting, the guards chained the inmates together in groups of three and took bets on which teams would be crushed to a bloody pulp first. Today, Caesar had the priviledge of being chained to an old codger named Sciron and that preening idiot Eurystheus.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. The true power in Hades’s regimen of cutesy punishments stemmed from how it affected the mind, not the body. True, initially the experience is terrifying, an experience worse than anything one encounters in the mortal realm. But the fact remains that a dead person can’t be killed twice, only blotted out of existence. And as he stood there being hit by lightening for the eightieth time or in this case, being squashed by giant rocks, Caesar was consumed with recollections of the past.
All of his mistakes came flooding back, piercing his heart with shame and fury. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he do this? Didn’t he see that? Et tu brute? Such tortures produced the type of regret that can only come from years of thwarted ambition and agonizing hindsight. Caesar created for himself an unceasing torture of second guesses, shattered dreams, and all of the details repeating through his mind, static, for the rest of eternity.
So when Sciron suggested that the three prisoners try to escape in between boulder matches, Caesar practically jumped at the chance.
Sciron was known throughout the underworld for his comically unsuccessful escape attempts. One time he accidentally chained himself to Cerberus and was a glorified 3-headed doggie toy until he was recaptured. Another time he stole Hades’s winged helmet of invisibility but was captured when he was found ogling maidens in the Elysian fields. Once, he even took a wrong turn and ended up in the Titans’s domain! Nevertheless, this escape plan would be better and would work perfectly. After all, he was Caesar, and he would make sure of it.
After evading the guards and making it look like they tried to sneak past Cerberus again, the three dead men outlined their escape from Tartarus. Sciron knelt down and started to draw a map in the dirt.
“Okay, we’re here, and the gateway to the mortal world is there. All we have to do is follow this corridor, turn left at Tantalus’s orchard, and we should be home free. Assuming Hades hasn’t invested in any new monsters.”
“Did you say monsters?” Eurystheus asked as he nervously surveyed his surroundings and tightly clutched Caesar’s cloak.
“Oh, get off me! You’re dead, you idiot.” Caesar yelled. “All right, let go!”
After hours of sneaking around by torchlight, the chained men reached the edge of Tantalus’s forbidden trees and moved into the final stone corridor.
“You said we should turn left?” Caesar asked.
“Well, it could be right…”
“Which one is it then?”
“Wait, you don’t know where we’re going?” Eurystheus piped up.
“This is ridiculous,” Caesar complained. Exasperated, he ran through the corridor, turning left and dragging the other men with him.
Splat!
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Athena sighed quietly and hugged her legs closer as she sat crouched on the floor. She rubbed her temples and squinted to focus on her task in the dim chamber light. Under normal circumstances, Athena actually enjoyed visiting the realm of the Fates. It was like a second home to her, after Olympus. Newly sprung from Zeus’s head, she spent most of her time here, developing the art of weaving from the mistresses of the Loom. Eventually, she passed along her skills to mortals so they could make clothes and blankets. She may be the goddess of weaving, but these women were the true experts.
Like a little girl, Athena quietly held the distaff as she learned to spin the thread of life from Klotho. Lakhesis showed her how to carefully measure the length of a mortal’s life, and Athena solemnly held the shears as Atropos instructed her where to cut. However, what Athena enjoyed most was watching the Moirae weave the threads together by moving the shuttle and creating the events that shape history. Those were happy times.
Now she sat there, gazing at the loom trying to find a way to prevent prophecy from being fulfilled. According to the oracle of Delphi, if Eve, daughter of Xena the Warrior Princess, were allowed to live, she would cause the destruction of the entire Greek pantheon. So far Athena’s efforts to kill the child have been woefully unsuccessful. Commanding an army of elite warriors, she laid siege to Amphipolis to convince Xena to turn over the baby. The citizens of the town refused to cave to her demands and fought her warriors. Even her brother Ares tried to defend the child. Stealing the Warrior Princess’s offspring seemed to be a nearly impossible task, especially considering she didn’t know how or when the events of the prophecy would occur.
So Athena sought another way out of the situation. She consulted the Loom of Destiny, staring intently at the events of the past as the three Moirae continued to weave the present and future. Somewhere, there must be a clue to prevent such a disaster! She fixed her eyes on Eve’s birth, where her thread of life began. Intertwined at this point were a black and yellow thread, representing the meddlesome warrior and bard. Killing either on of them would be just as difficult as killing the child itself, and she would most likely have to contend with an enraged god of war. Athena sighed. It used to be so easy to intimidate mortals!
The Fates broke from their trance-like state and stopped weaving. They gathered around the front of the loom to inspect their work.
“Ah, finally caught up!” Klotho said, satisfied.
“This should hold us until your brother starts another war or at least until the next round of plague,” Lakhesis agreed.
“We’re going to step out for a bit. Do you want anything, dearie?” Atropos asked gently.
“No, thank you, ladies. I should be all right,” Athena said quietly as she continued staring at the loom.
The three women snapped their fingers and vanished from the chamber, leaving Athena alone with her thoughts,
Athena returned from her reverie when she noticed a figure slumping in the doorway. He was covered in filth from his head to his sandals and appeared to be chained to the two huddled masses cowering outside the door, but Athena would know that arrogant smirk anywhere.
“Hail Caesar,” she murmured and smiled to herself. “You seem to be a long way from Rome,” she observed, sniffing the air and laughing.
“A-Athena?” Caesar blinked, surprised by the acknowledgement and his surroundings. He recognized her from the bards’ descriptions, but what was she doing here? One of the Olympians was sitting by herself in the middle of Tartarus staring at a giant tapestry? What in Hades was going on? And how could he use this to his advantage…
“We never should have taken that shortcut around Ixion’s wheel,” Eurystheus grumbled from outside the doorway.
Athena tilted her head slightly. “And who are your companions?”
The two men sheepishly entered the chamber, chains clanging together as they moved.
“Begging your pardon Majesty, the name is Sciron, best thief this side of the Saronic Gulf and spending eternity being tortured because of it,” Sciron spoke as he nervously bowed multiple times. “Born and raised just outside of your fine city, I was. Athens…Athens is a credit to you, Majesty. Nice people, good weather. Best olives in Attica, if you ask me. Of course, the traffic is a bit bad around the agora...” Sciron gulped. “Uh, not that it’s your Majesty’s doing,” he hurriedly corrected.
Athena smiled broadly and tipped her head in acknowledgement. “And you?” she asked Eurystheus.
Emboldened by Sciron’s performance, Eurystheus announced, “I am Eurystheus, son of Sthenelus, grandson of Perseus, and king of all Mycenae.” He puffed out his chest and grinned confidently.
“Ah yes, the weakling,” Athena recalled. ‘Hera was complaining about you last week. You controlled the most powerful man in the world, and what did you have him do? Kill some obscure monsters, steal livestock, and muck out the filthiest stables in the world? Why didn’t you send him out for bagels while you were at it?”
Insulted, Eurystheus crossed his arms turned up his nose in disgust. “Hmpf!”
Athena continued with her train of thought. “So an emperor, a thief, and a coward try to escape from Hades…this sounds like one of Dionysus’s bad jokes,” she said, amusement twinkling in her grey eyes. “Somehow they take the wrong turn around my brother’s new malebolge (you should have turned right, boys) and end up in the domain of the Fates.” Athena laughed heartily at the absurdity of the situation. “Well, gentlemen, we all have problems.”
She gestured to the loom, “This, you wretched fools, is Destiny. The existences of mortals and immortals alike are woven together to create reality. Each strand of the weft is one life. It becomes woven into the tapestry and records an individual’s life and choices. For example, here,” she pointed to one region of the tapestry, “is where Theseus threw Sciron, making him fall to his death. Over there is where Hercules’s children finally caught up with you, Eurystheus. And the rise and humiliating death of the mighty Caesar is depicted there with that purple thread.”
Upon hearing the last part, Caesar smiled grimly. He had an idea. Here was his chance to finally amend all the mistakes that burned at his soul for all these years. All it required was a little manipulation…
“And over here, somewhere in the future” Athena gestured to a patch of yarn near the far right of the tapestry, “is where Xena’s demon-spawn will bring about the death of the gods themselves. Existence will be changed forever, if life survives at all.”
“However, there is a gap between the weaving of the present and the future,” she noted as she gestured to the large weft-less region.
“That’s the blessing and curse of prophecy. Prophecy shows the ends not the means. Ultimately, individuals must live their lives and choose their paths, praying that their supposed salvation isn’t actually the source of their destruction. At the same time, they could continue walking their current path and change nothing. Thus they walk meekly and blindly into whatever trap some oracle has set for them. It is a trick of the gods that even the gods don’t understand.
So everyday I have come here, for weeks, months…I don’t remember anymore, to try to find something that will change our path and avoid that destiny. It could be a person, an event, I don’t know! All that I know is that if I don’t do something…” Athena stopped and regained her composure.
Oh, this is going to be easier than expected, Caesar thought happily to himself.
“She must come here every night after visiting her chosen. I heard the guards talking about it,” Eurystheus whispered to Sciron and snickered.
Sciron jabbed Eurystheus sharply with his elbow. “Show some respect, boy. She is a goddess.”
“Or what, you’ll kick me off a cliff?”
“I would, boy, but I don’t want to give the sea monsters indigestion.”
“I think the smell of your feet would do me in first.”
“Enough!” Caesar growled. The room fell silent. Turning to Athena, he said, “What I don’t understand is why you don’t just change Fate yourself? You’re a goddess for crying out loud, and it’s sitting right there in front of you!” Caesar exclaimed, springing his trap.
“Change fate?” Athena asked, astonished at the question. “Alter the threads on the Loom of Destiny?”
“Of course! You’re the goddess of weaving!” Caesar continued. “Don’t tell me you lack the skill.”
Athena hesitated, “But tampering with the loom is outlawed by divine decree. The laws that govern this matter are some of the oldest and most sacred in the universe. Such an undertaking should not be considered lightly, Caesar.”
After thinking a moment, she shook her head, “No, I won’t do it.”
“Athena, please,” Caesar countered, “You of all the immortals should know better than to play the ‘divine infallibility’ card. Just look around at the rest of the Pantheon!
To quote a certain hero, the gods are petty, vengeful, and cruel. Most importantly, they are also capricious and inconsistent. For example, the mighty Hera is the queen of the gods, goddess of marriage and child birth. Nevertheless she is married to most philandering Olympian around and spends most of her time trying to kill his bastard offspring. Your brother Ares glorifies war and battle, leading to the deaths of thousands of mortals. Yet he whines like a little girl if attacked himself. The methods of Zeus and his son Apollo are beyond questionable. Abductions, rapes, transformations, deaths! These gods respect power, not law. If your power is equal to that of the other Olympians and your conduct is better, why on earth would you follow their rules?”
Athena laughed, “Ah, Caesar, there is a fallacy in your argument. Just because the ones who made the law are not consistent (at least in the eyes of mortals such as yourself) doesn’t mean that the law itself is bad. In this case, the decree can’t be invalidated just because the gods act superior to mortal law. There is an important purpose behind such a prohibition.
Caesar tried a different tactic, “Well, then. What is the good and sensible reason behind the law that prevents one from tampering with fate?”
“Even you should have figured that out. Changing fate involves altering someone’s past, present, and future. However, people don’t live their lives in isolation. Changing the life of one person could affect the lives of half the Mediterranean and beyond. Adding or removing someone from the time stream would cause further chaos. For anyone other than the Moirae, such an act would be nearly impossible, and even with my skill, it’s still terribly risky.”
Athena looked at Caesar incredulously. Seeing that her words did not have the desired effect, she continued, “Let me put it this way, if I start cutting or reweaving the weft, Rome may still be a small backwater settlement, Xena could be ruler of the known world, and you could be a pig farmer!” Caesar blanched at the last comment.
“Time could even collapse, destroying all life! Furthermore, in the new reality, the gods could still be doomed to destruction, defeating the purpose of changing the loom in the first place!”
Visions of the apocalypse and pig sties dancing in his head, Caesar soberly considered his scheme. Nevertheless, he pressed onward, driven by ambition and dreams of empire. No guts, no glory. “But what if it worked?” he asked Athena.
“What if this were your only chance to prevent the twilight of the gods? You said yourself that you have been sitting here for days trying to find that special person or event that could shift the path of reality and prevent destruction. You’re the goddess of wisdom, for crying out loud, and you haven’t found anything! Maybe the key to escape the prophecy simply doesn’t exist in this reality.” Caesar paused to let the words sink in. “Maybe it only exists in another.”
Athena started to protest but Caesar cut her off, driving his point home.
“Do you want the gods to die? Do you even know what that would mean? Sure, there would be destruction and chaos, but can you, an immortal, even grasp what that kind of death truly is? No grave rituals, no inconvenient visits to the underworld, no magical rebirths. You would be wiped off the face of the earth as the pain of your body being torn apart fills your being. No one will worship you, and no one will mourn you because no one will even remember you. That is what it means to kill a god.”
Athena cringed as she silently considered his words.
“And what about the other Olympians? They’re your family! “
“My family…?”
“Your brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, your father. Your own supernatural flesh and blood! You love them! Do you want them to be killed because you did nothing? Change the loom! Destroy the prophecy! Claim your true destiny!” Caesar stared at her in exasperation.
Athena looked at Caesar, resignation and sorrow in her eyes. He won.
But how could she change destiny (without drastically altering the state of the world) while insuring that she would prevent the death of her family? Athena looked again at the birth of the accursed child. The same black and yellow threads that she examined earlier were still there. They ran parallel for a relatively long distance and were both intertwined with some very interesting figures and events. Athena checked the projected measurements of the strands. The two threads even seemed to be about the same length…What would happen if she switched them? Considering the personalities of those two, it seems unlikely that the warrior would be in a position to become the chosen mother of the god-slayer if her role were reversed. Maybe that difference would be just enough to alter reality and prevent the prophecy from coming true. It seemed like a long shot, and there would inevitably be unforeseen consequences. Nevertheless, as Caesar had convinced her, if there were even a chance that this would work, it was worth it.
Athena set about implementing her strategy. For what seemed like hours, she measured thread and shuttled the loom as the three men watched in silence.
Finally, Sciron and Eurystheus hovered outside as Caesar continued watching her work from just inside the doorway. Maybe now he could alter his rise to power, correct his mistakes, and prevent his own death on the floor of the Senate. If there were even a chance that this would work, it was worth it. Poor Athena never knew what hit her. She may be the goddess of wisdom, but she knew nothing of true loss or true greed.
Athena removed her fingers from the loom, and there was a flash of white light that blinded the universe.
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