ItB Book 1: In the Beginning

He called down a lightning bolt and launched it at Iapetus to consume his child, but it was intercepted quickly by Crius' fists. The gauntlet-covered fists shone with the light of the stars. The smirk on Crius' face informed Ouranos he was unafraid of his imperious father.

"You shall never be King, Crius," Ouranos decreed.

"We will see. Won't we, Father?" Crius challenged himself with infuriating joy. The cocky grin told all present that Crius believed he would be victorious. After all, if Cronos, Crius' physical inferior, had damaged Ouranos, then Crius could win.

The other Titans, whether harmed or not, watched, captivated by the sheer confidence of Crius stepping forward. His gauntlets pulsated with cosmic radiance, and his eyes gleamed with determination as he prepared to unleash the full potency of the constellations against his father.

With a sweeping motion of his arms, Crius summoned the might of the stars. Stardust trailed from his gauntlets as the very cosmos materialized around him. The light cast an ethereal glow and surged through his veins.

Before the first punch exploded against the side of Ouranos' face, the Sky Father could sense the force Crius wielded. He fell back into the ocean, blinded, and confused by such might.

With each blow, Crius unleashed torrents of stellar energy upon Ouranos, overwhelming his father with the celestial forces at his command. Beams of starlight shot forth from his gauntlets, tearing through the air with incredible speed and precision. The very heavens were assisting Crius in the downfall of his father and the sea illuminated with the radiant brilliance of his attacks, as if the heavens and the seas had turned on Ouranos.

As the clash intensified, Ouranos fell further back, realizing the threat Crius posed. Quickly, he called upon his vast cosmic influence as Crius prepared to strike him again. The heavens trembled, and a tempest swirled around him. In a burst of raw ferocity, Ouranos unleashed a devastating wave of celestial strength, seeking to destroy Crius, who, in turn, tried to block it.

In fear of so much violence, Crius closed his eyes at the oncoming storm. The Primordial King never took his eyes off his son during the beating he would unleash. The intensity of Ouranos' attack collided with Crius' paltry defenses, bursting in a cataclysmic explosion of energy.

The shockwave shot through the battlefield and at everyone who looked on.

The radiant light of the constellations dimmed, and Crius' gauntlets cracked under the strain of Ouranos' onslaught. The cosmic vitality that once flowed freely through Crius faltered, leaving him vulnerable and weakened. He gritted his teeth, refusing to yield, but the pain of his damaged hands was undeniable. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw the gigantic figure of his father within stepping distance from him.

His fingers, once agile and nimble, suddenly felt heavy and unresponsive. The command of the stars slipped from his grasp, leaving him defenseless against the might of the Primordial King. The once proud Titan of constellations stood before his father as his fists trembled in their broken status.

Ouranos, seeing the weapons of his son crumble into the ocean, grabbed his son's arms. He could see the pride Crius had felt in his great strength when he was the one winning the fight.

"How quickly things change," the father taunted. In a single movement, Ouranos squeezed his son's hands and wrists, crushing them with the fist of his immense hatred. The bloodcurdling scream from Crius told his siblings that Crius' efforts were done, and so was his future to lead.

The Fates had been wrong. None of his sons were worthy. The Last Primordial had nothing to fear.

Hyperion was the first to react to the atrocity. He swung the torch fiercely against his father's temple, knocking him aside. He had a choice to continue fighting his father or help his brother, and to him, the matter was simple; he lifted Crius, rushing him back to land. It was Cronos who hurried towards their king.

Hyperion was busy holding Crius, and Oceanus was unconscious, so they did not see what happened; the remaining did. Time slowed as Cronos shot ahead.

It was not as if time seemed to slow; time slowed for its master. Cronos ran at full speed toward their father's slowly falling body.

In that small moment, the Last Primordial, child of Gaia and Chaos, was completely vulnerable. Seeing his father's manhood under his flowing toga, the rage at where those loins had been, rang through the youngest Titan. There was no second thought needed for Cronos to slice. He could not think of any other, more fitting punishment for his father's actions.

The siblings gasped as Ouranos' penis and testicles were freed from his body. The Primordial King's cry did not last long. As he landed on his back, Ouranos' last sight in the land of the living was Cronos lifting the scythe overhead. With this act, the first actual death in the land of Greece had come to pass. Ouranos, the slain, and Cronos, the slayer.

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Chapter 8: Sic transit gloria mundi: The Rise of Cronos

"...Cronus cut off his father's genitals and threw them into the sea...And, having dethroned their father, they brought up...and committed the sovereignty to Cronus."

- Apollodorus, The Library (~2nd Century CE)

Ouranos' body lay floating on the water. Breathless from his decisive act, Cronos turned from his father's deceased form. No one knew what would happen next.

Of all the Titans, only Iapetus could see Thanatos, who was a son of Nyx, come from nowhere to walk to the headless body of the Last Primordial. Iapetus walked towards the young Chthonic deity. Thanatos, however, extruded a grim demeanor and held up a hand to halt the Titan. He was not to be disobeyed.

"He walks among the living no more," Thanatos proclaimed. "The once king is to walk in the halls of Tartarus forevermore."

Iapetus did not fully understand what that meant, but it was understood that Ouranos would never pose a threat to the Titans ever again.

For all of Ouranos' firsts, his death would be the most amazing act that Iapetus would bear witness to. While the other Titans consoled one another, Iapetus gawked at the very essence of his Primordial father leaving the husk of a body.

The spirit of Ouranos was much like his body: Tall, strong, and foreboding. However, in death, the most significant difference was that his spiritual body still had its head attached.

When Thanatos returned with the Sky King to Tartarus, Ouranos was in a fog. He did not look at the near-skeletal being that was Thanatos.

The task that the Underworld had set for the former king grabbed him by his very essence. All he felt was the pull to trudge forward and wander through Tartarus while ignoring all others in his wake.

Swaying left and right, his march seemed aimless but Thanatos knew better. The very Realm of the Underworld had a path for the former King of Olympus, and it was not for a Chthonic child of Nyx to intervene.

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Cronos made sure Crius was well enough before he brought himself to Olympus. There, he found Rhea resting in the bed, sheets the only thing covering her body. The signs of her infidelity were clear: her flesh had bruises, her legs twitched from the union, and she had a smile.

She stirred as Cronos paced back and forth. He was lost in thought as to what to do. He loved her, adored her. She had been all he had wanted in a partner since childhood. Yet, she had willingly laid with their father. She had allowed him the chance to create life in her belly. He shook his head in rage. He could do to her what he had to Ouranos.

What had Iapetus said? Death? Kill? Could Cronos do that to Rhea? Kill her? Remove her spirit from her body and send that very spirit to Tartarus forever? He shook his head as she woke.

"Cronos!" Rhea cried. "I...this isn't..."

"I know what you did," Cronos said, putting his scythe against the wall.

Rhea looked from the blood-stained scythe to Cronos and his broken demeanor. She perhaps did not know what death was or what had fully transpired, but she pieced together that if Cronos was in the room and Ouranos was not, then the Sky Father was no longer in control of Olympus.

"It was not like that!" Rhea exclaimed. Her voice quivered. "Ouranos forced me. I had no choice, Cronos. After asking for his blessing, I begged him not to take me, but he gave me no choice." Cronos stared at her, uncertain. So much of him wanted to believe her. He continued to listen in silence. "He forced himself upon me, Cronos. You must believe that. He threatened you, our family."

"Rhea, Mother Gaia saw you. She saw you with him."

Rhea seemed shocked but did not lose a step in her defense. "How can she be sure of what she saw? Once Ouranos had what he wanted, I was in his grasp; I had to play the part, Cronos. You must believe me!"

"Must I?" Cronos exclaimed. "Why? Why must I do anything with you?"

Rhea stood naked before Cronos. "Because you are my husband. Because we have a future together." Though they were not married, Rhea had hoped the title would fog the rage that must be building within Cronos.

"I want to believe you."

"Then..." Rhea said, sliding her hand up and down the strong arm of Cronos. "Believe me."

"How?" Cronos asked, unsure. "How can I know you won't betray me if another being commands you to."

"I would never," Rhea said, her voice growing lustful. She reached out and felt over his body. As he shivered, she kissed him. She sensed he could recoil, but before he could, she wrapped her fingers around his manhood. "I am your wife, Cronos."

Cronos moaned as she felt him harden. "Yes... yes, you are," Cronos breathed, losing himself to the pleasure of her touch.

She pulled him towards her, before pushing him onto the bed she had willingly lain in with Ouranos. Seizing her husband's erect cock, she mounted him. She let the semen of Ouranos moisten her womanhood. She was slow at first, allowing Cronos into her inch by inch. She called out his name so he could know she enjoyed her husband's caress, and she did, but he was unaware Rhea was doing the work. Ouranos had taken her like a King, and Cronos was no King. Rhea realized he was a usurper and thief with every stroke of his manhood in her.

As he gripped her hips, she saw that he was barely containing himself. She could feel the imminent release of his orgasm. With every moment, she realized there would come a day when Cronos would need to be deposed by one of his sons. She would be a part of that decision and be sure to pick the right one. Only one who was like Ouranos could take what Cronos had stolen.

"Rhea!" Cronos cried.

"Yes, husband!" Rhea shouted back, pretending to climax as she had with Ouranos.

His orgasmic release into her was the confirmation she needed. The feeling was nothing like it had been with Ouranos. Rhea kissed her husband, knowing it would not last.

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The rest of the Titans and their one surviving Primordial parent were all gathered on the cliffs by the sea.

Crius was on his back, trembling in pain. He was looking left and right with tears down his face. He cried out from the new levels of aching discomfort while Hyperion and Iapetus worked on healing his broken palms and fingers.

The shattered gauntlets lay by his side. However, the long gashes on Crius' arms, wrists, and elbows told the story of the permanent damage that was inflicted upon him. The air was still as the Primordial Mother Earth stared down at her children with worried love. Never had Chaos intended them to suffer as her son was. To be a deity was to be wondrous always...Wasn't it?

She found her contemplation divided as her sons administered restorative energy to their impaired sibling. Crius' disability was only one part of their predicament.

"Are you sure, Hyperion?" Gaia asked. She had not expected for events to take the turn they had.

Hyperion nodded, as did Coeus. "He defeated Father, and he was the one slighted by Ouranos' selfishness. With Crius injured, I do not believe anyone could argue he has the right to sit on the Throne of Olympus."

Gaia looked at her other children. She paused on Crius. They all nodded their agreement. "Then...Cronos shall be King of Olympus.

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Epilogue

Where was he? Who was he?

Everything was all wrong. Looking left and right, he saw blackness, shadow. His body felt pain as never before, especially between his legs.

After what might have been a few moments or a few months, the being recalled that he was Ouranos. That did not stop him from feeling like everything was wrong. He was no longer what he was.

He could feel the shadow of himself, but he could no longer call upon his once-great might. He was hollow, a half-self. In the dark depths of Tartarus, where shadows whispered, and eerie echoes reverberated, Ouranos, the fallen ruler, stood with a heavy heart, slowly trudging through the dark Realm. His once proud form was marred by defeat.

"You sought to conquer and rule, to impose your will upon the cosmos," the echoing voice of Chaos said. "But the threads of Fate were woven against you."

Ouranos turned to see the Progenitor had emerged by his side. "Was there ever a moment where I could have succeeded?"

Chaos, in its enigmatic form, extended tendrils of darkness and diaphanous light. "No, Little Ouranos."

"What could I have done?" Ouranos asked, begging for a solution to his suffering. He was learning what future generations would know so well. Most would do anything to rectify their mistakes after the fact, but scarcely beforehand.

"No one's destiny is shaped solely by their own actions. You are no different. The grand design of all has its own rhythm, its own balance. For you to topple me was too great a quest."

Ouranos stared upon the Realm of Tartarus. Tears streamed down his spectral face. "Then all of my goals were for nothing."

"Not for nothing. You have paved the way for great Kings to follow you," Chaos said.

Though the Last Primordial had been larger than the Great Progenitor in life, he was looking up to his creator in death. "Was I never meant to keep my throne? Could I not have continued as the King of Olympus?"

Chaos nodded. "There was. Had you been content to be King, you would still be ruling, and there may have been time in the future for you to have all of the cosmos as you wanted."

Ouranos lowered his head. He could not bring himself to look at Chaos in his shame. "What is to become of me now?"

"As penance for your hubris, you are to watch over the souls of the departed for a time. It is fitting, so you can see others fall as you have."

"Is this all I am to have?" Ouranos asked. For all of the posturing he had done in life, he was pleading to have his crown, his wife, or even his manhood restored to him.

"For now," Chaos said. "Someday, you shall be overcome again by a deserving King. He shall rule this Underworld for centuries and become synonymous with this Realm, until he surrenders his throne to another."

"Surrenders?" Ouranos wondered. Who would give up power willingly?

"You will see, O Great King. Until then, let us see if you can learn your lesson. Perhaps you will see another quality, empathy, and find its worth."

Behind the Primordial and Progenitor, where the Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires hung from the walls, was a single spot of earthy dirt. Where Gaia had once stood, moisture from her tears over her children's banishment mingled with the new tears of Ouranos, who cried for his lost throne and manhood.

Ever so slowly, a tree was taking shape in the Realm of Tartarus.

Blessed by Tartarus and Erebus, grown in the dirt of Gaia. Watered by Ouranos and Gaia, a tree would grow intended for the King that Chaos mentioned. Until that day, the Realm of the Underworld would be watched over by the first death: Ouranos. There, he would remain for his crimes of hubris, though most would not know of his crime of trying to overthrow Chaos. He would be remembered as the King who endeavored to defy the Fates.

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In the vast expanse of the sea, where Ouranos' dead body floated, his blood oozed out, leaking into the salty ocean. The life-giving waters united with the tumultuous waves.

The yellowish red ichor lost its golden luster, pooling into crimson, then burgundy, before settling into black ooze. The sea, once serene, churned with an otherworldly energy. From the depths arose three majestic figures, their forms metaphysical yet formidable.

They were clothed in garments as dark as the night sky, with eyes that gleamed with an unyielding intensity. Their countenances reflected the pain and suffering of the world, and their voices echoed with a harmony of haunting resolution. They were black and red with wings. In times yet to come, they would be called the Furies, enigmatic beings who yearned for justice and retribution.

As one of the Furies faced another, she smiled menacingly. "Come, sisters! The Realm is ours!"

"Yes!" Cried the other two.

While they flew away, the sea-created foam blended with the fluids of Ouranos' testicles. It pooled and swirled until a radiating goddess with golden hair and a body of perfection emerged. She did not crave violence or death and cared nothing for justice. Rather, she felt the desires and lusts of her father, Ouranos. She craved affection, adoration, wonder, joy, and sex. For her, everything could be a new experience of pleasure. Where those Furies could embody justice, retribution, and strife, she was a force for love, unity, and passion.

"Aphrodite," she mused, naming herself. She would walk into the Realm of Greece naked, her body a gift to the Realm. They could see her, but the immense Titanic might within protected her from being taken against her will.

The Realm of Greece was changing. These were the beginning days of Olympus, and what happened here would reverberate throughout the world.

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