1.02: The Sky-Father's Court

King Oranos, bearer of the Legacy of Malanginui, listened quietly to the arguments bouncing back and forth around the room in the Titans’ ancestral language. The debate would have been difficult for mortals to follow – just as humans complemented their spoken word with facial expressions and body language, Titan’s used their shape-shifting abilities and telepathy to add context, connotation, and emphasis to their words.

Oranos reached out to Gaia’s mind, the equivalent of resting his hand on hers to get a sense of her tension. His queen was nearly as calm within as without, though Oranos knew her temperament could shift quickly; Gaia’s telepathy was far more advanced than his own, allowing her to sense the whims and fears of living things for miles around, and sometimes that made her cantankerous. More often, though, it made her compassionate and empathetic, and Oranos could sense that those two virtues were now digging at her conscience – they’d come to this meeting from a discussion of their own, an argument about their children’s future and moral well-being. Gaia had won the argument, but she seemed rather unhappy with that outcome.

Oranos decided it was time to bring a little bit of order to the chaos in the room, and cleared his throat loudly. The vocalization got the point across, and the room fell silent.

“The throne calls upon Lord Thanatos, bearer of the Legacy of Mictlanggun, and Lady Macaria, bearer of the legacy of Alakhthon, to state their concerns.”

Thanatos and Macaria stood up from their seats at the edges of the round room and stepped a bit out into the open. Thanatos and Macaria were the custodians of the underworld, a title that gave them a fearsome but ill-deserved reputation. Both were very dangerous and their marble white skin and blue eyes made them look quite ghoulish, but they happily stayed underground because they were simply uncomfortable with and disinterested in interacting with anyone but each other. In another era, they might have been described as a ‘bookish’ couple.

“Lords and Ladies of Knossos, fellow descendants of the Starborn,” Lord Thanatos said, “We have encountered a fault with the Legacy of Mictlanggun.”

Gasps and hushed exclamations rippled through the room – it was the most subdued panic Oranos had ever seen.

“Lord Thanatos, what is the nature of this fault?”

“Despite Lady Macaria’s most earnest efforts, and the wise counsel she receives from the Legacy of Alakhthon, we… I have been unable to conceive a child.”

“And you believe this is the fault of Mictlanggun?” Oranos said, “Isn’t it more likely that the fault lies in your body? The Legacies have never encountered such problems before.”

“Even if that were true,” Thanatos said, “the Legacy of Mictlanggun should have corrected any innate infertility, as it would any other malady.”

“Phanes, bearer of the legacy of Makeamun, have you anything to add?” Oranos asked. Phanes was the closest thing they had to an expert on fertility. Makeamun himself had been a botanist, but his successors had studied husbandry and reproduction in plants, animals, Titans, and even humans, each generation contributing to the Legacy A.I.’s knowledge base.

“King Oranos,” Phanes stood and acknowledged his regent, “I am not gifted with extensive knowledge about the Legacies, so I could not tell you why a fault has occurred now, but I can confirm that the problem affecting Thanatos is directly attributable to the Legacy of Mictlanggun, and the problem cannot be addressed without extracting the Legacy.”

There was more mumbling and some shaking of heads. It was a bitterly ironic situation – traditionally, a Legacy Bearer passed his Legacy onto a younger Titan who showed similar aptitudes and abilities to the current bearer. This often resulted in the Legacy being passed from a bearer to his son or daughter, or a very close relative.

Macaria had inherited the Legacy of Alakhthon from her father, the previous custodian of Tartarus, because she’d shown the same aptitude for manipulating plants and channeling their abilities that he and his grandmother had possessed. Her husband and cousin, Thanatos, however, had been chosen over any of her brothers or sisters to host the Legacy of Mictlanggun (previously born by Macaria’s mother) because he alone among their generation had inherited their grandfather’s ability to manipulate the metabolic processes of cells. Unfortunately, none of their nephews or nieces had manifested the abilities that would indicate a compatibility with the Legacy of Mictlanggun, suggesting that key genes had not been passed onto them – the best chance to produce a suitable heir to the Mictlanggun legacy was for Thanatos and Macaria to have children themselves, and that now seemed impossible.

Prometheus raised a hand and Oranos recognized him, “Prometheus, bearer of the Legacy of Mbomxolodur, you have something to say?”

“I don’t wish to be insensitive to Thanatos and Macaria’s situation, but I’d like to know whether this is a one-off occurrence, or something we may all be facing sooner or later?”

“The nature of the problem is specifically tied to the Mictlanggun Legacy’s enhancement of Thanatos’s particular abilities,” Phanes said, “While Thanatos is able to control his cellular metabolic manipulation quite well, it seems that the Legacy is causing his body to attack itself or, at least, to attack his seed. That shouldn’t be a problem for any of us outside his familial line, unless our Legacies spontaneously cause us to develop that same power.”

“Hekate, bearer of the Legacy of Morgania,” Oranos said, “You understand the Starborn Legacies better than any of us alive; is that likely to be an issue?”

“Not at all,” Hekate said, “We do have reason to believe that all of the Legacies were derived from a common source on our ancestral homeworld, but by all appearances they began altering themselves the instant they were grafted into their first hosts. Since then they’ve diverged like branches from a central trunk – one of us manifesting that precise power spontaneously at this point would be statistically improbable. Extremely improbable.”

That at least was good news. “Can you fix it?” Oranos asked.

Hekate laughed at the notion, “I’ve spent a great deal of time learning to understand the Legacies, but the last person who would have possessed the knowledge to alter one deliberately would have been Coatlinuku or… Tiamat? I believe they worked together to create the Legacies, did they not?”

“They did,” Gaia said, “but Tiamat and her consort Kasios have remained imprisoned on the Tartarus for a reason; they cannot be trusted to help with this. Unfortunately, the Legacy of Coatlinuku tends not to be forthcoming about the nature of our ancestors’ Legacies. I know that she knows them intimately, but she has withheld the knowledge from me just as she withheld the knowledge from my mother, grandfather, and great grandmother.”

“That’s fine,” Thanatos said, “Because I already know what I want to do – I’ll gladly relinquish the Legacy of Mictlanggun in order to father children.”

“But who will you relinquish it to?” Aether, bearer of Virachimga, spoke out of turn but Oranos didn’t reprimand him; he was only voicing out loud the question that everyone could hear each other thinking.

This situation had never arisen before – Thanatos would have to choose a successor who did not show signs of affinity for the Legacy of Mictlanggun. Not only did that make it harder to justify the choice to those passed over, it would be dangerous for the one to whom the power passed – a failure to manifest the powers wielded by the previous Legacy bearers suggested a genetic incompatibility that might cause problems. The Legacy would still be able to graft to its host, but the scale of the changes it would have to make to its host’s DNA and nervous system in the process could – theoretically – cause serious problems.

Nyx, bearer of Orcynyes, quietly went to the chamber’s doors and closed them securely. With a gesture of her hand, a shroud of darkness surrounded them – Oranos could see everyone in the room quite well, but could not have seen the wall three feet behind him. Nyx didn’t like to worry about prying eyes.

“I suppose the time has come to speak frankly then,” Gaia started, “As you all know, Oranos and I have retained our station well beyond the normal term…”

“You have grandchildren,” Prometheus said, “Why have you not passed on your gifts to your children? Every day that goes by, you sit on those thrones without ageing while your sons proceed towards their mortality. More slowly than the humans, certainly, but inevitably.”

“I have concerns,” Gaia said, “Oceanos has shown an aptitude for hydrokinesis, making him a good candidate to host the Legacy of Isanagy when Pontus is ready to relinquish it, and Kronos has shown an aptitude with electromancy, making him a good candidate to host the Legacy of Malanginui once his father relinquishes it. Oceanos is a good man, and Kronos is too, but… Kronos… I love my son, but I’m afraid that this sort of power will bring out the worst in him. I do not believe he should possess his father’s Legacy, and I do not wish for his brother to inherit a Legacy while he does not. They have been the closest of friends from the moment Oceanos was born, and such a decision would drive an irreconcilable wedge between them.”

Many of the Titans in attendance murmured in understanding – some had found themselves with two or more children with equal aptitudes, making any choice contentious, and many simply felt as Gaia did, that the succeeding generation could not handle the power as they had.

“So, what, you’re just going to wait them out?” Prometheus looked around the room, “Watch your children age and die, so that you can pass the Legacies onto your grandchildren? What happens when none of them meet the bar you’ve set?”

“That’s not an option anyway,” Oranos said, “Kronos has placed all of his children in suspended animation in Tartarus to discourage us from passing him over – we don’t know if any of them even have the aptitude necessary to bear the Legacy.”

“I can see why you don’t want him to be king,” Aether said.

“I still believe Kronos could be a good king,” Oranos said, “but… I think we need to take this opportunity to question what we’re doing with the Legacies. The protocols established by our great, great grandparents when they came to this world are… impractical. The number of Legacies that can be hosted remains constant, while our population grows with each generation. We’ve become a stratified society – the people in this room ruling at the top, and our brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews who weren’t blessed to be compatible with one of the Legacies, live at the bottom.”

“Actually,” Prometheus said, “I think the humans are the ones at the bottom, being slaves and all.”

“They aren’t our slaves,” Pontus said, “They worship us.”

“Not as many as you think, and either way, slaves who don’t know they’re slaves are still slaves,” Prometheus said.

Oranos held up a hand to silence them, “Millennia ago on a faraway world, our ancestors discovered the means to edit their own genes using what they called ‘nanotechnology.’ That discovery led to an era of miracles and wonders, but it also led to a world much like the one we’re creating, where those with the best enhancements lived at the top, and those with the poorest enhancements lived at the bottom. The result of that separation was a civil war that killed half the planet’s population, followed by a mandatory treatment to homogenize the surviving population. Our ancestors were exiled from their home world because the artificial constructs which conferred and regulated their powers thwarted all attempts to strip their hosts of their powers.”

“An interesting history lesson, Lord Oranos,” Thanatos said, “but I’m not sure I see the point?”

“Our ancestors could have relinquished their constructs voluntarily and allowed themselves to be stripped of their powers like everyone else on the planet. We could have been born and raised on that planet, enjoying the gifts of culture and science that we only dimly recall through our Legacies. Instead, they came here, so that we – their descendants – could make a living scraping by in the mud.”

“Lord Oranos,” Lady Macaria said, “I can assure you, the Tartarus is in no state to return home, if that’s what you have in mind.”

“No, no,” Oranos said, “Here is where we are and where we will be. We need to make the best of it, but I believe part of that is learning from our mistakes. The society we’ve created is on a dangerous trajectory, and we need to correct course now.”

“And how do you have in mind to do that…?” Prometheus asked. He was genuinely curious - he'd been the bringer of grim tidings for centuries, and consistently ignored. It was interesting to see Oranos finally sharing - openly - his reservations.

“We could all relinquish our Legacies now,” Hekate volunteered, “Make the choice our ancestors did not, so that we may be ruled by wisdom and will, not by exotic powers.”

“But who would we relinquish our Legacies to?” Gaia asked.

For the first time that afternoon, Pandora, bearer of the Legacy of Lauma, spoke up, “No one,” she said, “Let us create a vessel to house the Legacies for posterity, and live as mortal Titans, just as Thanatos intends to do.”

There was a tempestuous mix of responses, polarized between very supportive and very resistant.

“It’s far from a miracle solution,” Oranos said, “But it might be a good first step.”

“Or it might be foolish,” Prometheus said, “Incredibly foolish. The Legacies don’t just enhance our innate powers, they furnish knowledge and wisdom. You’re so worried about your children being prepared to handle the responsibilities of leadership? Passing the gift onto them is how they get prepared, and why it should have been done decades ago. Do you really believe you were so different from Kronos before the Legacy was grafted to your nervous system?”

“I know I was better,” Oranos said with certainty; Prometheus simply shook his head, stunned by the king’s conceit.

Oranos surveyed the room, “How many of you would be willing to give up your Legacy if everyone else gave up theirs as well?” The Titans would still be blessed with power and longevity far beyond those of their native worshippers, but no one would wield the god-like abilities conferred by the Legacies.

A lengthy argument ensued with Pontus, Aether, Nyx, and Prometheus being the holdouts. Pontus and Aether eventually relented, and Nyx acknowledged that she would ultimately do as her king commanded, leaving Prometheus the lone voice of dissent.

Prometheus’s advice in most things was indispensable. The Legacy of Mbomxolodur enhanced his natural power to manipulate the heat energy within matter, and made him the only one among their race who could handle raw iron safely, but those gifts were almost trivial next to the oracular foresight the Legacy gave him access to. 

“Have you foreseen anything that should concern us?” Oranos asked pointedly.

Prometheus sighed, “I cannot see the future of my own term as the bearer of Mbomxolodur’s Legacy, I can only glimpse the experiences of my successors. What I can tell you is that the next person who bears the Legacy of Mbomxolodur will have no recollection of inheriting it, and he will live centuries before he discovers it.”

“How is that possible?” Gaia asked.

“All I can imagine is that it will be conferred onto him at an extremely young age,” Prometheus said.

“And when will this happen?” Oranos asked.

“I do not know… it seems that neither he, nor any of those who come after him will know very much at all about us. Though he has no recollection of knowing you or your son, I think he will be your great grandson, King Oranos. Given the longevity of our people, though, and given that your living grandchildren are in suspended animation… it’s impossible to make guesses about the time that will lapse between now and then.”

“What of the other Legacies?” Pontus asked, “Will they be brought back into the world as well?”

“I believe so,” Prometheus said, “But my successor knows little more than that, and… when I attempt to access the knowledge of his successor... none of it makes sense.”

“It would seem,” Hekate said, “That the only certainty is that our descendants will eventually resume use of the Legacies. The only way to prevent that would be to destroy them, but without knowing why our descendants reclaimed them, that would seem unwise.”

“Indeed,” Oranos said, “But it also sounds like our decision to relinquish the legacies would do no serious harm. The world Prometheus has foreseen spins on. People live and work as they always have, do they not?”

Prometheus shrugged, “I think we should be more concerned with what we do not see ahead of us than what we do…”

“Your opinion on the matter is noted,” Oranos said. The Titan king knew that despite Prometheus’s power, the young Titan didn’t have the temperament to outright rebel against the decision, and would ultimately acquiesce to the will of the group. “Gaia, Pandora, and Hekate will create a vessel to safely house the Legacies, and once they are relinquished, Lord Thanatos will secure them in Tartarus’s vault and Lady Pandora will keep the key.”