In the beginning, there was only darkness. From the black sky emerged Eros, the god of love, Uranus the sky and Gaia the Earth. With the help of their brother, Gaia and Uranus fell in love and bore the mighty Titans, Cyclopes, and the Hundred-handed Giants.
Uranus despised his offspring, and kept them prisoner deep in Earth’s belly. Hatred grew in Gaia’s heart for her husband. Day in and day out, she heard her children’s cries for help from within her. But Gaia had a plan.
“My poor children,” she said, tears streaming from her eyes. She was holding Hyperion’s head as she slowly fed him bread and water, “I cannot defeat him on my own. Only together, can we finish him.”
Her children remained silent, unmoved by her willingness to free them.
“Surely, you don’t wish to remain here, trapped for all eternity?”
“His power is too great, mother,” Phoebe said in a low husky voice, “He’ll strike us down before we get close to him. It’s of no use.”
Gaia looked at her children. They were weak and broken. How could they lose hope so fast? she wondered. As she walked away from them in silence to make her way back to the surface, a voice came from the corner of the cell.
“I will help you, mother,” Cronus stood, leaning against the cell wall to keep his balance. Cronus stared at his siblings in disgust, nauseated by the fear they had for their father. “With me by your side, all will be right with the world. I promise you.”
Gaia embraced her son and reassured her other eleven children that they would soon be free of this hell. She looked into Cronus’ eyes and smiled,
“Shall we begin?”
Gaia and Uranus were fast asleep as Cronus crept into the room. The sinking feeling of doubt crept into his mind as he made his way through the darkness. What if his father was just pretending to be asleep? What if he knew what he and Gaia had planned? In the midst of all his worrying, the young man knocked into the table that was closest to the bed. Everything was in slow motion as he watched the vase that sat atop the table fell to the ground. BANG!
Uranus mumbled in his sleep. Cronus held his breath, backing himself into the corner of the room as quietly as he could, just in case his father rose from his slumber. Unwrapping his arms from Gaia’s body, Uranus rolled over, his body facing Cronus. Cronus let out a sigh of relief when he realized how heavy of a sleeper his father was. Cronus stood over his parent’s bed, rocking the sickle back and forth in his hand, yet he couldn’t bear to raise it. His father was in the most vulnerable position, but the fears that Cronus’ siblings had expressed days prior began to worry him. If he failed to kill his father, the fate of everyone that conspired against him would be one worse than death. He shook the negative thoughts from his mind and raised his sickle. He swung it down, separating Uranus’ genitals from his body.
Uranus rose, howling in pain, cursing his ungrateful children. He charged at Cronus, eager to get back what was his, but Cronus threw his father’s man hood into the ocean. Cronus and his sister Rhea took the throne on Mount Othrys, where they lived and flourished, happily. But Cronus was too much like his father.