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I remember the day it happened. The day the world ended. The flames, the scorching heat of the flames washing civilization down, washing us down. There was no visible trace of us in the city, yet we were there. In the crevasses between the stones in the walls, in the whispers of old legends, in the way people laughed, cried and went on about their daily lives. Everything burned. There were no more crevasses, no more whispers, no more laughs and cries or even people. Constantinople had fallen.
There is a mortal saying. To be loved is to be changed. Or “to survive is to change”, or “don’t stay in the past, or you will leave your future self behind”. Thousands of these quotes saying the same thing over and over again. Change is needed for the human experience. I guess that is why we don’t change. My brothers, and especially my youngest brother, may try to pretend that he is modern, dress in a suit, shave his beard, but alas, his eyes betray him. The rage in his eye is the same. The same hatred for everything, the same addiction to power. I am the goddess of the family, but my family is not even dysfunctional. It’s the truest reflection of humanity. Rapists walk free, the king is corrupt and mostly motivated by hedonism, men cheat on their wives. They steal, plunder, murder and wreck carnage. But none of it is their fault.
“Did you make mankind after we made you?”
Gods don’t feel. Mortals like to humanize us, pretend they’re just like us, but it never ends well.
If I had a stomach, maybe then I would feel sick to it if I ever truly realized in what situation I am, but I don’t. I don’t live, I don’t even survive, I merely exist. My existence, my soul is living through the minds of humans.
And that is the one thing my brother never realized. We are not our masters. You are.
When the world ended Poseidon came to me. I remember his chapped lips, sunken eyes and heavy feet.
‘What will happen now?’
As if I was supposed to know.
‘We go on,” I said.
‘That isn’t enough.’
‘It has to be.’
He plucked a flower from the beach we were standing on. ‘I am afraid of what we will be reduced to. I don’t want to be like them.’ He sobbed. ‘Is that bad, Hestia. That I like power?’
He proposed to me once. In the olden times. However now he was married, forever disloyal to his wife. A shame, really. Amphitrite was murderously hauntingly beautiful.
‘They made you this way. Why wouldn’t you like power?’
He sat next to me.
‘I wish they didn’t. Why couldn’t they make me like you?’
‘You’re not me, Poseidon.’
‘I don’t want to be you. However, I shall never understand why I am not gentle. Isn’t this pleasure? Isn’t this heaven?’ he gestured at the sea. A gentle salty breeze ruffled my hair. The warm sand and the bright sun caressed my blistering skin.
‘Don’t let yourself be caught talking about heaven. I don’t know how Zeus would react.’
‘Don’t avoid the question, dear sister.’
I sighed, a heavy weight on my shoulders. I heard of a thing they made in the east called acupuncture. It’s supposed to relax you. I really need to visit a place that does that.
‘How many bodies did your waves claim?’ I said. ‘There’s your answer.’
He shook his head. ‘Then why are you like that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Hearths burn homes down; families are rarely without disputes. Abuse and neglect aren’t uncommon.’ He frowned. ‘But really, how are you like this? Forever gentle, oh, goddess of the family! Your own family is…’ he laughed, as if thinking of a funny inside joke I wasn’t a part of, ‘a mess. Shit. Utter disgusting shit, soaked in piss and mud. In a ditch. Betrayal, backstabbing, war and destruction. That is your family. Yet here you are. Perfect.’
My lips trembled, hands shaking, and if I had sweat, there would be buckets of it.
‘Poseidon, I think it’s better if you went away. Console your wife.’
‘Actually, I never really thought about it. How are you perfect? You’re the representation of us.’
‘Poseidon!’
He grabbed my throat, I started feeling dizzy, even though I don’t breathe.’
‘Perfect, perfect Hestia. A virgin, so pure. Not a sprinkle of dust, not a fleck of black!
‘Poseidon, let go of me!’ I cried. My heartbeat was in my head, his scorching cold hands around my throat, choking me.
‘I am destruction, I am volcanoes and earthquakes. People shout my name out in terror when their ships sink.’ He screamed into my ear. ‘I am terror! I am rage. All of us are.’
I wanted to say something back but couldn’t. The words died in my throat. I felt my knees hitting the scorching sand. My vision gained black spots.
‘You are family, you are us! And yet you’re whitely pure!’ his words started to leak spit unto my face. His breath felt sharp against my skin. ‘What are you?’
It isn’t widely known, but if the west is collapsing, the gods start to collapse with it. Istanbul was still hot from our ashed bodies, and here was Poseidon, losing his fucking mind.
‘Poseidon.’ I pleaded. He wouldn’t let go. I felt his last meal, my vision was inky black, my throat was sandpaper. ‘Posedawone,’ I whispered. ‘Please.’
His eyes widened in shock. His breath stumbled and he let go. My knees hit the hard grains, embedding into my skin. I wheezed for air, laying on the ground. My heartbeat was about to jump out of my head, it just needed to crack.
‘What the fuck, what the fuck.’ Poseidon stumbled backwards. ‘You weren’t there, Hestia. You weren’t fucking there. How…How do you know?’
I coughed into the ground, my veil and robes twisted in between my legs. I looked up. My eyes met his.
I promise I couldn’t control it this time. All my life I could but not this time. My eyes shone through.
I’d remember his expression forever. I forgot decades, centuries, but this moment I’ll never forget. The utter horror on his face. The betrayal.
‘…Hestia?’
The only thing I could hear was my breathing.
‘You look like Father.’
I was his favorite daughter, wasn’t I?