Page 215 of Styx

this late in the night,

something was wrong.

The Darkest Day

As I had been taking care of my own children,

I had not come to the aid of my brothers

in some time. Zelus was older now

but Nike and Kratos were still young enough

to need their mother. To grow into godhood,

the progeny of Gods need a few years.

My children, born as they were during a war,

did not have the luxury of a peaceful upbringing,

and so, as a mother, I did all I could

to shield them from the brutality,

including keeping them in chambers

within this palace where they did not see

their uncles carrying severed heads

and limbs about, bleeding across marble floors.

My mother had only spoken to me once

when she had asked me for more help with the wounded

and I had told her, ‘I helped you birth them.

It is your turn to mother them. I have my own

children to think about and tend to.’

But now, as we gathered once again

in Oceanus’s grand hall, which was

once known for feasts and now had become

an infirmary where the River Gods healed,

I finally saw the depth and breadth of these attacks.

Once we were all within the hall,

every Oceanid, all the Potamoi,

my father raised his withered old hands.