90. A Revelation
A Revelation
Gods believed in prophetic dreams
the way the ocean believed in its waves.
For us, prophecies were a gift and a curse,
the dark knowledge the future was
always advancing upon us.
There was a sort of strangeness
that had descended upon Oceanus’s palace.
It appeared that most of the River Gods,
and the Nymphs too, were being visited
by dreams that spoke prophecy.
Each one was the same.
Kronos, the God-King,
standing in front of a door.
When the door opens,
a wailing infant Godling
is handed to him by unseen hands
and he cradles the child. Coos to it.
As the baby wriggles in his arms,
He lifts the struggling infant
to his mouth
… and devours it whole.
Over and over again,
even the least of the divinities
saw it happen. And then, we heard
it was Kronos’s mortals who began to feel
and see these same dreams.
This was deeply unusual.
Kronos’s mortals were a docile sort,
and as unhappy as he made the divine,
he liked to keep his mortals happy.
These dreams were a disruption.
Metis one day came to me,
her hands clasped before her,
clever golden eyes worried.
‘Asteria,’ she whispered softly,
‘do you think it is true?
That Kronos is devouring
his children?’ I gently held her hand.
‘I think it is true, beloved.
But you need not worry until
we are told by our parents.’
When the news finally came to us,
that Kronos had devoured
four of his children thus far,
Metis locked herself in her chambers
and wept and wept.
When Leto and I tried to comfort her,
all she sobbed was ‘Poor Rhea.’