Location: City of Ephyra, Epirus
Time Remaining: 18 Hours
Penelope found the three companions a modest tavern with a beautiful roof garden, where they enjoyed a nice meal. Odysseus dipped a piece of flatbread in olive oil and sprinkled some salt on it, “I’ll come out and ask the obvious question,” Odysseus said, “What was that place?”
“Tartarus,” Adresteia said flatly, unsure how Odysseus missed that.
“No, but… what is Tartarus? That place, that wasn’t magic surrounding us down there, right?”
“Some of it was,” Adresteia said, “Or you might as well think of it as such.”
“If the flameless lights and the upside-down rivers aren’t magic, what are they?” Penelope asked.
“Creations of man?” Odysseus said, “Or some precursor to man. If they aren't magic, then they must be technological in nature, like the navigational device Athena gave me for our voyage across the Mediterranean."
Adresteia nodded, "The lights you saw everywhere were animated by the same force that creates lightning," she created a spark in her hands for emphasis.
"So it's a place created by an advanced civilization..." Odysseus said.
"But that's odd, isn't it?" Penelope said, "I mean, they imprisoned the titans there, so it had to predate Hestia’s construction of the Constellar Palace on Mt. Olympus.”
“Tartarus is older than any of us, holding prisoners in its deepest reaches that none save Tartarus himself remembers,” Adresteia said.
"Well who on Earth built it, then? Or, him?" Odysseus asked.
"No one on Earth," Adresteia said, "As Tartarus himself tells it, he was a vessel that sailed across the stars and brought the gods to earth. The sarcophagi the titans are sealed away in were originally needed for the ship's crew to survive the long voyage."
“Cross the stars?” Penelope wasn’t sure what that even meant, "Isn't that like... crossing a ceiling?"
Odysseus pointed up into the night sky, “According to Apollo, each of those points of light is a vast fire, many, many times larger than our entire world. He told me the stars are just like our sun, but they appear much smaller because they are so much further away.”
“Odysseus,” Penelope said, “Did you not tell me once that the earth is curved and not flat?”
“Yes,” Odysseus said, “I did the math while surveying some fields on Ithaca for my father, and if you watch ships sailing out of Ithaca’s port, you can see them disappear behind the horizon.”
“The sun is round… should I assume the stars are as well?”
“Yes,” Odysseus said, “Apollo says they are all great, burning spheres.”
“But the moon is different,” Penelope said, "Isn't it?"
"The moon isn't like the stars or the sun," Adresteia said, "Artemis told me once that it is actually a very large round rock. She even claimed the rock is so massive that it affects the tides."
"Wait, how could a giant rock just hang there in the sky?" Odysseus asked, "What prevents it from falling?"
"I think it is falling," Adresteia said, "Just very, very slowly, and it's a really, really long way away, so you can't really tell."
"Why does it change shape?" Penelope asked.
"It doesn't," Odysseus said, "It just... releases light from different parts of its surface as the month goes by. During a waxing or waning moon, on a clear enough night you can see the dark portion of the moon."
Adresteia laughed, "Actually, it just reflects the sunlight. Like a silver platter positioned near a window to light up a room. The light reflected changes because of everything moving around up there.
“So, the Earth isn’t simply curved then, is it? It’s round, like the moon, the sun, and the stars,” Penelope guessed as she sipped her wine.
"Yes," Adresteia smiled, "I actually have this fantasy of one day just, dropping everything to take to the air and try to circle the world. To just fly east or west until I find myself back where I started."
“If the Earth is just a green ball dancing through the aether with the yellow ball that is our sun,” Odysseus said, “Does that mean there are other green balls dancing around the stars, too far away for us to see?”
"Well, Tartarus must call some world its home port," Adresteia said.
"That's a chilling thought, isn't it?" Penelope said as she pulled her arms in tight around herself, "There's no telling what could be out there."
"We still don't really know that much about what's down here," Odysseus said.
"We really don't, do we?" Adresteia said.
"Could we circle the world in your ship?" Penelope asked Odysseus.
"What?" Odysseus asked, "The world? In the Aegis?"
"You crossed the Mediterranean and back in a matter of months. That has to be half way around the world."
"Pretty sure that's mathematically not true."
"Well, however long it might take... I mean, instead of Addy flying around the world by herself, we could just take the boat and all of us go."
"All of us plus fifty men to run the oars..." Odysseus said.
"Greece is large, Odysseus, I'm sure we could find fifty attractive men who want to sail around the world!"
"Wait, why do they have to be attractive men?"
"Because it's gonna be a long trip!" Penelope said as she poured another cup of wine, "What do you think Addy? Want to cruise around the world with us?"
Adresteia sipped some of her own wine and closed her eyes as she entertained the thought. In that moment, her brief imaginings actually paired with the serenity of the real world in a way that brought her... joy. She was both happy in the moment, and - at least momentarily and perhaps due in part to the alcohol - hopeful for whatever adventures the future might hold. Hope for the future, happiness in the moment, and... at least to some degree... peace with the past. It was a moment of perfect contentment. Adresteia smiled quietly to herself.
"You know, we could get 50 attractive women to row the boat," Odysseus said.
"Maybe," Penelope said, "but after the first hundred miles of rowing your women would look an awful lot like my men."
"Well, there's nothing wrong with strong women..."
"Uh huh, sure," Penelope smiled.
"You know, if we did this, you two would have to actually call me captain. Otherwise the chain of command could get confusing for our fifty sexy rowers."
"We sailed to North Africa and back and I don't remember ever calling you captain," Adresteia smiled.
"You spent most of the trip as a bird," Odysseus said.
"My point stands."
"I'm not calling you captain," Penelope said.
"Well, the other option is basically, 'master'," Odysseus said.
"Oh, hell no," Adresteia said.
Penelope raised her wine cup to Adresteia, “Well said my friend. We need no masters!”
“Shall I remind you of that when you put me to work in the kitchen?” Odysseus asked.
“I mean, we women need no masters,” Penelope said.
They laughed for a while, trading various barbs about gender and species, until Odysseus, soaked with wine, became somewhat somber and changed the topic, "So much of Tartarus was nothing like I imagined, but then that place they were holding Prometheus - it was exactly like what the stories described. But it wasn't real, was it? It was like some sort of dream."
"How else would the gods create personal hells for every prisoner they sealed away down there?" Adresteia asked, "Except by trapping them in nightmares."
"If the sleeping Titans are imprisoned in strange places like that, what of all the men and women the gods are keeping down there?" Penelope asked, "What torture must they be subjected to?"
"Perhaps none," Odysseus said, "If the realms of Tartarus exist, then so to might the better afterlives. Perhaps the virtuous still live in Elysium, and the innocent in Asphodel?"
"Perhaps," Adresteia said, noncommittally.
"Prometheus was being tortured by a great bird," Odysseus said, "larger than a man."
"Like a large ostrich?" Adresteia asked.
"No, but I didn't recognize what it was. It looked like a combination of a vulture, a raven, and an eagle. Black as night. And when I confronted it, it changed form - much like you do - into the shape of a statuesque woman."
"Statuesque?" Penelope quirked an eyebrow, "To me, she looked more emaciated than anything."
"Emaciated?" Adresteia asked.
"She did try to eat us," Penelope nodded.
"She said that she was Nyx, the titaness of night," Odysseus explained, "But Zeus had captured her, imprisoned her with Prometheus, and cursed her to feel eternal hunger."
"That's a cruel fate," Penelope said, "Now I feel rather badly for her."
"Zeus is cruel," Adresteia said, "but that is exceptional, even for him. What did she do to earn his ire?"
"Apparently, she was his stepmother. She courted Kronos sometime after Zeus and his siblings were born, and sired another heir to his throne."
"Well, not an heir," Penelope said, "he or she wasn't born first..."
"Zeus wasn't either," Adresteia said, "Kronos conceived six children in his arranged marriage to his sister, Rhea, but had them all imprisoned in the underworld. With the last of her six children, however, Rhea somehow managed to fool Kronos, sending someone or something else to the underworld in her son's place. She had him raised in secret, until he was strong enough and cunning enough to usurp his father, Kronos."
"So Zeus took Kronos's throne, despite being the youngest of the six?" Odysseus asked.
"Yes. Hades claimed the underworld for himself, and Poseidon took their uncle's sunken palace and the domain it overlooked. Crete was already on the verge of collapse as the result of the titanomachy, and when a number of closely spaced natural disasters ravaged the island, Zeus and his new wife, Hera, had their sister, Hestia, create the Constellar Palace."
"Moving the throne to Olympus, and becoming the Olympians... You remember all of this?" Odysseus asked.
"The Titanomachy was before my time," Adresteia said, "but I faintly remember Crete."
"So, if they completely ignored the traditional rules of succession, then the child of Nyx and Kronos might have as legitimate a claim to the throne of Olympus as Zeus."
"If Nyx and Kronos were married, yes," Adresteia said, "The titans of Crete practiced very formal polygyny; the children of a second marriage were entitled to an inheritance just the same as those of the first, although ordinarily birth order still mattered. It's a bit of a stretch, but it's probably close enough that Zeus would have killed the child immediately."
"I don't think he did, Addy..." Odysseus said hesitantly, "Nyx said they cut the child from her before it could be born, and took it from her. Not killed it. Took it."
Adresteia had a feeling she knew where the conversation was headed. "So there could be some challenger to the throne locked away in Tartarus somewhere," she deflected, "Perhaps I will return to Tartarus and see what I can find out."
Penelope, though not at all sober, could sense that it wasn't a matter Adresteia wanted to discuss. She stood up and pulled Odysseus to his feet with her, stumbling slightly. "Say good night to your friend, Odysseus, and follow your mistress down stairs. We have a marriage to consummate. Adresteia…” Penelope paused for a moment and studied the goddess while biting her own lip with a mischievous smile, “Maybe another night,” she winked.
"What?" Adresteia asked confused, "Another night for what?"
The mortals had made the mistake of trying to match Adresteia’s drinking, and would surely pay for it the next morning. For now, though, they clumsily descended the stairs to their room, giggling and whispering.
Adresteia sat alone on the rooftop and considered Odysseus's musings. A child of Kronos and Nyx would be powerful. Potentially just as powerful as Kronos's children by Rhea. If that child were raised ignorant of its birthright, raised from the very beginning to be unquestioningly loyal to Zeus and Hera, it'd be a powerful asset to them.
Athena had said that Adresteia had parents, that Zeus had killed her father and imprisoned her mother in Tartarus. Given the savagery and treachery of the titanomachies, that hadn't narrowed the field much, but how many children could have been born right at the end of the final titanomachy? And if Odysseus and Penelope were to be believed, Adresteia and Nyx shared more than a passing resemblance.
Adresteia's happiness washed aside as she realized the full implications of that; her mother was not only imprisoned in Tartarus, she'd been subjected to especially cruel conditions. Athena had sent them to rescue Prometheus from his own eternal torment - they could easily have helped her mother, as well. They could have broken the curse, at least, but they'd missed their opportunity because Athena hadn't shared what she knew.
What other secrets did Athena jealously guard?
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