Prometheus's Gift

Sometimes, when the sun was highest and the birds were at their hungriest, Prometheus half regretted stealing fire for the sake of humanity. Sure, the mortals had made good use of it. They’d told the greatest stories by the fire’s light and created the finest foods with its heat. In fact, the more time that passed, the more the humans became Gods onto themselves, all aided by his gift. But for every amazing creation, they made fifteen terrible ones. First, they burnt people, then they burnt villages. Then humanity discovered gun powdered and nothing was the same again.

Still, given the option, he didn’t think he would take it back. Humanity’s adventures kept things interesting after all. He was a God, a prince of fire and trickery. His existence was supposed to be one long, magnificent myth. Instead, he was stuck tied to the same old rock, tormented by the same old birds. At least, he thought they were the same birds. It was impossible to tell for sure.

In the end, it wasn’t the business with the birds and the liver that wore him down. It’s only natural for a person, even one as powerful as him, to tune out pain after a while. A few hundred years was more than enough time to stop caring. No, it was the monotony that really got to him. The same thing day in day out. Even watching the humans started to grow tiresome after a while, as they divided themselves further and took longer to change. Immorality was an awfully long affair, even for those who were afforded the luxury of movement. No creature was meant to be bound to one place for as long as him. So, when he saw something new for the first time in over a thousand years, he was equal parts surprised and relived.

The gift giver was not a God, nor was she really a human. If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t really sure what she was. Which was a little troubling because he made a habit of knowing everything about everyone. It wasn’t like he had much else to do with his time. He’d first seen her with the humans, wandering across the settlements, offering her services for high prices. Wealth in exchange for their beauty, beauty in exchange for their love, love in exchange for their voice. Some accepted, many more than would openly admit it, but others were quick to cast her out as a sorcerer and a threat. It wasn’t long before they tried to destroy her with the gift Prometheus provided. 

She survived, of course. She always did. It seemed to Prometheus that no matter that they threw at her, she found a way to make it through. So, having left the humans alone and forever ungrateful, she made her way up the tallest mountain, towards the Gods. Towards him.

“It’s a pitiful affair isn’t it? You being all tied up like this.” She croaked as she reached his side. She waved her hand and the vicious birds took flight, leaving the pair alone among the rocks. Prometheus couldn’t quite see her face, it was covered by a black hooded cloak, but he could tell she was pale and wrinkled.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Prometheus snapped.

“That’s no way to talk to an old woman.” She chuckled. “Who cares who I am or what I want? It’s what I do that matters.”

“I’ve seen you among the people. I don’t know what your game is, but it won’t work up here. Mortal tricks rarely work on Gods.”

“Rarely.” The old woman smirked. “Don’t be so closed minded, Prometheus. You know I’m no fraud. If I was, you’d be able to understand the trick.”

Prometheus considered this. It wasn’t as if he was blind to her work. He’d watched her closely since she first started making waves in Athens. No matter who closely he observed, he could never quite understand how she worked (though part of that might have been because of how distracting the birds’ wings could be). But whatever she was doing really worked. Those who made a deal got exactly what they asked for and lost whatever they opted to give up.

“Fine. Then why have you come to me?” He scowled.

“Because of all the Gods on this mountain, you’re the most in need of a special gift.”

“You…you can let me go? I can be free?” His eyes widened at the concept. After all this time, all the things he could do.

“I can bring your suffering to an end, yes.” She nodded.

“I’ve seen what you do though, there’s a price for it isn’t there?” 

“Of course, there is. Nothing is free, young man.”

The cheek of her. He was no young man. He was no man at all. If it was up to most Gods, the woman would be struck down just for her nerve. Still, Prometheus was hardly in a position to protest. He wasn’t going to gamble with his one chance at freedom.

“Alright, what do I need to give you?” He asked.

“Your immorality.” She said firmly.

“What? Why?” He exclaimed.

“I’m disobeying the Gods here, interfering with their punishment and all. So, our exchange should be worth the risk.” She chuckled.

“Besides, they’re bound to be angry when they find out what I’ve done, not just at me, but at you. Just imagine how much worse your second punishment will be. It’s probably best that they don’t have all eternity to find you.”

It was true. Anyone with even half a brain, both God and mortal, knew there was two things you never wanted from Zeus: his love and his rage. Sometimes, they may as well have been the same thing.

“So, I’ll be mortal…but it’ll be over?”

“That’s the deal.” The woman agreed.

“Okay. I agree.” Prometheus nodded. “How do we do this?” 

The woman reached into her cloak and revealed a long, silver dagger, engraved with tiny letters Prometheus couldn’t understand.

“Give me your hand.” The woman ordered.

“Oh…I…I actually can’t.” Prometheus smiled awkwardly, signalling to his chained hands with a nod of the head.

“Of course.” She laughed. “Never mind, I’ve worked under the strangest circumstances. We can make do with what we have.”

She dragged the blade against his bare arm, drawing blood. It stung a little, but not enough to bother him. It took an awful lot to bother him these days. She then turned the dagger on herself, leaving a deep gash on the palm of her hand, before putting the weapon away.

“Now repeat me after me.” The woman instructed. “I Prometheus.”

“I Prometheus.”

“Relinquish my immorality.”

“Relinquish my immorality.”

“For an end to my punishment.”

“For an end to my punishment.” As soon as the words left Prometheus’s mouth, the gift giver pressed their cuts together, letting the blood from both of them drip to the floor. Prometheus winced. The wound stung more now, like the sting of an angry wasp, and his chains seemed much heavier. The deed was done.

“There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” The woman smiled.

“So that’s it?” Asked Prometheus.

“That’s it.” She confirmed. “From now on you’re on your own.”

On his own. He’d always been on his own. It had just been him and the birds almost as long as he could remember. But the words seemed to hit like a rolling boulder. Now he would have to become a whole new person, a whole new mortal, alone.

“Just one last thing.” He said.

“What is it?” She sighed.

“Who are you?”

“Does it really matter?” She grumbled.

“Please, I need to know.”

“Consider me a friend of a new God. Well, an ex-friend.”

A new God? How was that possible? How could he have not noticed? Still, perhaps having the friend of God he hadn’t had the chance to annoy yet onside would help him with his new existence. The weakest creatures prospered from strong allies. Still, an ex-friend often meant current enemy, was perhaps it was better to be alone.

“Take from someone who knows. It’s not about who you are. It’s about the deals you make.” She laughed, turning to walk away.

“Wait, aren’t you going to untie me?” Prometheus called after her.

“And why exactly would I do that?” She smirked.

“Because that was the deal. You said if I gave up my immorality, I’d be free.”

“No, Prometheus. I said that your suffering would end.” She waved her with a chuckle, signalling for the birds to return. She walked down the mountain with a smirk, knowing another deal had been secured. She paid no mind to the screams, as the hungry creatures swooped down for the final time.