Where The Gods Sleep

Sing, O Muse, of the sorrowful night when darkness veiled the heavens, and sleep eluded my weary eyes, though my body longed to rest. Upon my humble bed, I lay restless, gazing upon the wooden beams above as if they might grant me solace. My limbs ached, and my head throbbed, a testament to the labor of daylight now spent, yet slumber dared not embrace me. The quiet breathed around me, gentle as the whispering Zephyrus, cautious not to disturb my beloved wife who lay beside me, deep within dreams, nor our infant daughter, cradled peacefully nearby. My gaze fell softly upon my wife, whose beauty outshone the bright-eyed daughters of Zeus himself. Her hair, dark as night's own cloak, shorn short in modesty and grace; her eyes, green as the lush meadows tended by Demeter's own hand, pierced through my soul each time they met mine. Her nose, straight and dignified as a marble statue, rested above lips generous and often laughing. She carried herself with the soft warmth of abundance, a figure pleasing in the sight of both mortal and divine. Truly, she was perfect, beloved by me beyond all mortal measure. Yet, O Muse, recount with sorrow the night when her heart betrayed our vows, or perhaps, more fittingly, when great Zeus himself descended from Olympus to tear our joy asunder. It was but moons ago when I returned home, weary from my labors, expecting the gentle greeting of my wife. But silence greeted me—a silence heavy, ominous, foretelling a tale of woe. I searched frantically, my voice echoing in empty chambers, her name upon my lips like a desperate prayer. Then, O terrible memory, the fates guided me into our chamber, where my eyes beheld a sight fit to shatter the heart of any mortal man. There upon our marital bed reclined the mighty Zeus, Lord of Thunder, dread king of gods, in brazen nakedness, entwined intimately with my beloved wife. Their voices rose in passionate cries, invoking desire and betrayal in one unholy breath. My limbs froze, as though bound by Hades himself, my heart raging with fiery torment, fury surging through my veins. My beloved had ever been loyal, or so she proclaimed in soft whispers beside me at night, swearing that no other could claim her heart. Even in temptation's grasp, she would whisper that I alone held her soul captive. Yet here she lay, captured not by love but by the dreadful command of Zeus himself, entranced by divine seduction. In wrath and grief unmatched, I rushed forth, grasping the sharpened dagger forged from mortal steel, and cried out with voice shaking the heavens, "Unhand my wife, vile fiend!" Zeus turned swiftly, eyes blazing like storm-filled heavens, his gaze mocking my mortal courage. His grip was swift and merciless, casting me violently upon the earth. He spoke in tones that shook the foundations of my very being, "Presume you to threaten me, mortal? Lift hand against me, and I shall reduce you to ashes!" Yet, in madness driven by mortal anguish, I rose again, charging with foolhardy bravery against the Father of Gods himself. Zeus, with a mere flick of his fingers, summoned forth a bolt of blinding lightning, which struck me with savage precision. I fell, agony searing across my flesh, blackened scars etching permanent testimony to divine wrath. My visage forever marred, a reminder of mortal impotence before heavenly might. Zeus laughed then, cruel laughter filling the room like the echo of thunder, as he turned once more to my wife. Tears welled in her emerald eyes, her form trembling like a leaf before tempest winds. Yet, her lips betrayed her, as if bewitched by Olympian enchantment, "Please, I cannot resist you, my Lord!" Her sobs broke my heart anew as she glanced my way, eyes begging forgiveness even as her form yielded helplessly to divine embrace.

Zeus, unmerciful, grasped her shoulders firmly, pulling her toward his divine form. Her weak struggles faltered beneath his celestial strength, his lips descending upon hers with consuming hunger. Their kiss, a cruel spectacle for my tormented eyes, broke what little spirit remained within me. I watched helplessly as his immortal hands roamed freely, claiming what was once solely mine. Yet, deep within mortal despair ignited an ember of divine defiance. Gathering the shattered remnants of my strength, I rose, wielding once more my humble dagger. Fueled by a mortal's righteous fury, I struck true, plunging the blade deep into the god's side. Zeus cried aloud in shock, pain contorting his celestial visage, a wound inflicted by mortal hands. "Ahhhh!" he bellowed, voice echoing into eternity, disbelief staining divine pride. Bright ichor, golden and radiant, spilled from his flesh, marking the victory of mortal bravery over divine arrogance. In rage and agony, Zeus released my wife and vanished in a flash brighter than Helios' chariot. But my fleeting triumph turned swiftly bitter. In his departure, Zeus snatched away my wife, vanishing into Olympus, far beyond my mortal reach. Her voice, calling out faintly, lingered briefly in the air before fading forever into silence. I fell upon our bed, tears hot and bitter streaming down my scarred cheeks, crying aloud to gods uncaring, my heart rent asunder. Never again would I gaze upon her face or hear her laughter. Forever, I am left with only the echoes of her cries and the cruel laughter of Zeus. Darkness took hold of my world that fateful night, and thus it has remained. Muse, tell of my sorrow, of mortal grief, and divine cruelty, so that future ages may remember the terrible price exacted when Olympians toy with human hearts.