Untitled Work in Progress, Part II

It took fully two months to design and construct the vessel. Ultimately, it was not housing the Legacies that was problematic – when drawn from the body, a Legacy was no more than gray silicate dust that seemed to stir slightly on its own. The problem was that a Legacy couldn’t be relinquished against its will, and it would only allow itself to be relinquished if its current host was dead or if it had a new host lined up. Gaia dragged what scraps of information she could out of Coatlinuku about how the Legacies worked, and combined with Hekate’s sharp knowledge of their past and Pandora’s knowledge of quantum engineering, they ultimately found a way to compel the Legacies to disengage themselves from living hosts without migrating to new hosts.

Ultimately, they’d created a device that would fool the Legacies into thinking their host was dead, not by feeding them false sensory data, but by actually feeding them data from the future using quantum temporal tunneling. The final phase of their project had proven difficult because the ‘key’ Pandora had created for the box, which was a critical component of its operation. The small coin-like object was the anchor for the tunnel to the future, and although nothing larger than a quark could pass through that tunnel, the small breach in space-time created localized interference between parallel universes. In short, whoever held the coin was subject to wildly improbable events, good or bad. It was a strange side effect that had been entertaining at first, but had become a legitimate pain-in-the-ass when testing the box and key.

Of all those present, only Kronos might have been more displeased with the circumstances than Prometheus. Kronos had waited for decades to inherit the Legacy of Malanginui, the ancient Starborn who’d Captained the Tartarus on its voyage and been made king of those who’d made their home in the eastern Mediterranean, near Tartarus’s resting place. The Legacy had passed with the throne, each ruler benefiting from the cunning and wisdom that it provided. Now, after over a century waiting, Kronos would be passed over entirely.

Oranos knew that it would sit poorly with his son, but hoped that he would eventually see that their decision was just and fair. He knew that for their collective sacrifice to be meaningful, it would have to be entirely public, so their next meeting was not held in the great hall, but outside in the palace courtyard where all of the Titans of Knossos could gather to observe the proceedings. Those Legacy bearers who hadn’t been present at the meeting – Oikodos, the bearer of Pta, and Koraki, the bearer of Nabozh – had seen the justice in the decision, despite not having had a voice in the matter. Oranos intended to keep a close eye on Koraki though – he was inclined to mischief.

Pandora brought forth the jade green box and its golden key, set the box on an altar, and inserted the key into a circular inset on the top of the box. Following her instruction, Oranos summoned a spark of electricity and channeled it into the key. The gold filigreed edges of the box luminesced, and it opened slowly, like the mouth of a hungry crocodile.

“As your king,” Oranos said, “It falls to me to lead you in all things, and that responsibility is greater now that it ever has been. I will be the first to make the sacrifice,” he said, “So that there will be now questioning the sincerity of my ruling. Now, Hekate, what do I need to do?”

“Simply stand near the box for a moment and then exhale into it,” Hekate said, “the device will do all the work. You’ll feel nothing more than a slight itching in the throat as the Legacy leaves your body through the respiratory membranes.”

Oranos did as he was instructed; resting his hands on the altar, he took a deep breath, and then leaned over the box and exhaled. A swirling grey dust poured forth from his mouth and settled into the box. Oranos coughed slightly afterwards, but showed no ill-effects.

“How are you?” Gaia asked quietly.

“I am less than I was,” Oranos said, “I have only one voice in my mind now, and I feel… tired… but I am relieved to be free of the burden.”

Thanatos went next, having been willing to rid himself of the Legacy from the beginning. Pontus went after him; his incredible command over water made him second only to Oranos in power, and he knew that it would reassure their fellow legacy bearers if he gave up his power without reservation.

Prometheus watched as, one-by-one, the Legacy bearers sacrificed their power for what they imagined to be a safer future. At last, it came down only to himself, Hekate and Pandora. Hekate gestured for Prometheus to step forward, “Fire bearer,” she said, “your time has come.”

Prometheus experienced an intense feeling of déjà vu – Hekate’s posture, her voice, and her words, immediately seemed familiar. It was as if he’d heard her speak them before, but in a different form. For the barest flash of an instant, he saw her not as she was – olive skinned and black haired, wearing a loose black garment and considerable jewelry. Instead, he saw a woman of incredibly fair skin, with red eyes and pale blonde hair beneath a golden helmet. She wore an aegis across her shoulders, a shield with a grotesque visage on her arm, and in the hand stretched out towards Prometheus she clutched a bloody spear. Prometheus took a step back; the flash of insight was a memory of his successor’s future, he was certain of it.

“As it was your idea to do this,” Prometheus said, “and I was the only one to maintain objections, I think it would be appropriate if I went last.”

Hekate’s face twisted with annoyance that she struggled to suppress, “Pardon? You’re refusing?”

“Why shouldn’t you and Pandora go before me?” Prometheus asked.

“You said yourself that you objected to this,” Hekate said, “What if we give up our powers and you renege? If you were the only one who retained his Legacy, you could easily take dominion over this entire kingdom.”

“And I could say the same thing of you,” Prometheus said, “But I give my word, that if you and Pandora give up your Legacies, I will do so without further protestation.”

“Your word?” Hekate blinked, “That’s all you have to promise?”

“Does anyone here have cause to doubt my honor?” Prometheus said, “Have I ever, in all of our years, broken faith, failed to uphold a promise, or in any way gone back on my word once it was given?”

Everyone shook their heads – Prometheus had never been the most powerful among them, but he’d always been respected for his trustworthiness.

“Well… I give my word that if you give up your Legacy, I will give up mine next. And isn’t my word as worthwhile as yours?”

“Perhaps, Hekate,” Oranos interrupted, “but Prometheus 'gave his word' first, so let us please move on with the proceedings?”

Hekate looked at the King with something between scorn and mirth, raising a hand as if she were going to gesture for him to remain silent. Her face seemed to want to contort into one of anger, but she tried to maintain a look of calmness that ended up compromised by a bit of a smirk. Oranos giving her orders? It was a bit late for that.

She let out her held breath, trying to vent her frustration calmly, “Well… this is not how I planned it, but when one lacks your foresight, Prometheus, one does have to be ready to adapt, doesn’t she?”

Hekate tapped the green gem on her black leather choker and sang. Before anyone could react, the other Titans – all save the three remaining Legacy bearers – were transformed into stone.

Prometheus’s hands heated up, igniting the air around them as he reached out mentally trying to find a pocket of hot gas or magma to use against the witch.

“Cool it,” Hekate said calmly, “I really don’t want to fight you.”

“Of course you don’t,” Prometheus said, “You’d lose.”

“Are you so sure about that?” she smiled and gestured to all of the petrified men and women around them, “You didn’t see that coming, did you? So you should probably be asking yourself what else I can do you didn’t know about, shouldn’t you?”

“Also,” Pandora said as she closed the box and pulled the coin out of the lock, “This gives one a bit of an edge.” She handed the coin off to Hekate, who rolled it casually in one hand.

Prometheus gritted his teeth, “You murdered our family and friends…”

“Pfft,” Hekate waved dismissively, “They’re fine, or at least, they will be once I’m gone. Of course, if you start throwing around exploding fireballs and streams of lava, someone is likely to get damaged, and then that will be very ugly when my spell ends, won’t it?” Hekate emphasized the point by laying a hand on the shoulder of one of Prometheus’s nieces, “Stone seems so strong until you see it break like glass.”   

Prometheus lowered his hands – Hekate held all of the cards, “What did you do to them?”

“Like you, my greatest gift doesn’t come from the power that my Legacy gives me, it comes from the memories. While you have the ability to recall some of your successor’s experiences, I can recall all of my predecessor’s experiences, in far greater clarity than any of the rest of you ever could.”

Prometheus weighed the implications of that, “Am I speaking to Hekate right now, or Morgania?”

“There’s not really a difference, is there?” Hekate said, “Anyway, Morgania was not the gifted scientist that Coatlinuku was; she was a soldier, a general in the war that Oranos only dimly recalled for us in that meeting. What the rest of you know as lore, I know as experience, and I remember the science and technology of our home world well enough to apply it to enhancing my abilities. This little device,” she tapped the choker, “is simply an oscillator that vibrates at a very specific frequency. Combined with my natural vocal ‘talents’, the choker triggers a subconscious defensive instinct that exploits our species' polymorphic abilities.”

“Causing everyone to shape-shift into stone,” Prometheus understood.

“Everyone who doesn’t have an artificial intelligence grafted to their nervous system, yes. But as I said, it’s only temporary. Once I depart they will all be fine – these few moments between us a blank spot in their memories.”

“Then leave; take your prize and go,” Prometheus said.

“You’ve upset my plans a bit, dearie,” Hekate said, “And there’s nothing to stop you from coming after me eventually, is there? You’re the only real threat left. Now, I could coerce you into giving up your Legacy, but I have a feeling I’m going to need you to keep it for now. ”

“You say that as if I’m going to help you at some point,” Prometheus said, “That’s not going to happen.”

“Not right away, no,” Hekate said, “But if you love the humans as much as you say you do, you will eventually.”

“What do they have to do with it? Why are they your concern?”

“My concern? Honestly, I don’t care one way or another about them, not as nearly as much as you, anyway. But if what Pandora’s told me is true, then it seems that the humans suffer under our people’s rule more than even you realize.”

“What?” Prometheus looked to Pandora, “How?”

“It’s not really the time for a lesson in Titan physiology and quantum physics, is it?” Pandora answered as she began to calmly walk away with Hekate, “But ask Tiamat how we sustain our remarkable abilities sometime, and you’ll begin to understand.”

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