Page 111 of Styx

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,