Let me tell you how it all came to be—how my siblings and I became known as part of what you now call Greek Mythology. It all began with Chaos, the primordial void. From Chaos emerged Gaia (the Earth), Eros (the god of love), Tartarus (the Abyss), and Erebus (the personification of darkness).

Gaia, without a male counterpart, gave birth to Uranus, who later became her consort. Together, they brought forth the Titans: Coeus, Crius, Cronus, Hyperion, Iapetus, Oceanus, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, Rhea, Theia, Themis, and Tethys.

After my father, Cronus, was born, Gaia and Uranus no longer wished for any more Titans to be born. To stop this, Cronus castrated his father Uranus and cast his severed genitals into the sea, from which Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was born.

Cronus, having overthrown Uranus, became the ruler of the cosmos, with our mother, Rhea, as his consort, and the Titans as his court. But Cronus was haunted by a prophecy whispered by Gaia herself—that one of his own children would rise to overthrow him, just as he had done to his father. This fate seemed inescapable, as though the prophecy had already sealed its truth. Cronus could not bring himself to defy it openly, but he believed that he could outwit destiny. So, when each of us was born, Cronus swallowed us whole to prevent any of us from challenging his rule—except for Zeus.

Our mother, Rhea, managed to trick Cronus when she gave birth to Zeus. She wrapped a stone in swaddling clothes and presented it to Cronus, who, believing it was the infant, swallowed it whole. Meanwhile, Zeus was hidden away.

Rhea entrusted Zeus to Gaia, who took him to the cave of Mount Ida on the island of Crete, far from Cronus’s reach. There, he was raised by the nymphs Adrasteia and Ida, who tended to him like a son. They fed him honey and the milk of Amalthea, a divine goat whose care nourished his growing strength. The Kouretes, young warriors, guarded his cave, clashing their shields to mask his cries from Cronus.

As he grew, Zeus often spoke with Gaia, learning of the cruelty his siblings had endured and the injustices his father had committed. The old prophecy, like a shadow, loomed in his mind, awakening his desire to free his siblings and fulfill the destiny foretold. Gaia taught him about loyalty, strength, and justice, but she also warned him that fate would never be swayed, only accepted and understood. She told him, “Your strength can break mountains, but it will not break what the fates have spun.” This knowledge weighed heavily on him, yet he could not shake his conviction that his path was just.

When Zeus was old enough, he left Crete with a mind sharpened by Gaia’s wisdom and a heart burning with the desire to free his siblings. His first stop was the river Okeanos, where he sought out Metis, the goddess of wisdom and cunning. She was known for her intelligence and beauty, both of which were said to rival even the eldest gods.

Their meeting was not as simple as one might think. Metis tested him, challenging his wit and determination, putting him through trials only the wise could overcome. Zeus, though young and fueled by raw strength, was captivated by her, and his determination to win her favor only grew stronger with each challenge. For days, he pursued her until, finally, she agreed to stand by his side.

As they spent more time together, Zeus’s admiration for Metis deepened. She wasn’t just wise; she possessed a subtle grace and a quiet strength that made her an equal. In time, they grew close, and she became his confidante and counsel, offering him guidance as he prepared to confront Cronus. She taught him strategy and foresight, seeing possibilities where he saw only obstacles, and her wisdom became a light that guided him through his darkest moments.

With Metis by his side, Zeus returned to his family. He gave Cronus a potion that made him vomit, releasing us—his children—along with the stone. We, then, waged war against Cronus, and after a long and bloody battle, we emerged victorious. The Titans were imprisoned in the Abyss, Tartarus.

Though victorious, Zeus found no peace. Gaia’s words echoed in his mind, "No strength can break what the fates have spun." He feared a power greater than strength—wisdom, the very trait he admired most in Metis. Time passed, but the prophecy never left him. It was a quiet torment, a weight growing heavier by the day.

Night after night, Zeus lay awake, troubled. He wrestled with the dread of the prophecy that foretold his downfall, casting shadows on his love for Metis. He loved her, yet his fear grew stronger than his affection, twisting his heart. No one could know, for it would reveal his weakness, so he wore a mask of calm as his heart twisted with doubt.

As the prophecy began consuming his every thought, Zeus sought the advice of wise seers, hoping to discover some way to outwit fate. But their words only intensified his fears. The seers warned him that Metis would indeed bear a child more powerful than him, one who would carry wisdom that even Zeus could not surpass.

Unable to bear the thought, Zeus made his decision.

“My brother, what is wrong?” I asked, concern creeping into my voice as I noticed his troubled gaze.

“Metis is wrong, Arethea,” Zeus said, his tone dark and troubled. “A prophecy foretold that Metis would give birth to a child greater than me… I must do the unthinkable.”

“What are you saying? You’re going to kill her?” I asked, shock flooding through me.

“I must, Arethea! It’s the only way to keep my power!” he said, his face hard with determination. I couldn’t believe it. He was willing to kill his wife over a single prophecy, one that might not even come true.

He turned away from me, his decision already made. I knew I couldn’t change his mind. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded, my voice a mix of fear and disbelief. But he didn’t answer. With a final, resolute glance, he left me standing there, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I could’ve done something—anything—to help her.

Days passed, and Metis was nowhere to be found. Fear gnawed at me, but I held on to a faint hope that Zeus might reconsider. Yet, in my heart, I knew that he had already taken his course.

Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. I went to Olympus, but the sight that awaited me froze me in place. I saw a crowd gathered around Zeus, eyes wide in shock and awe as they watched the strange phenomenon unfolding before them.

From Zeus’s head, a figure emerged—clad in armor, as if prepared for war. Athena. She stepped out, fully grown and radiant, her eyes sharp and filled with wisdom.

“Ὦ ἐμὲ…” I whispered in disbelief as she emerged completely from Zeus’s head.

The crowd around us murmured in hushed tones, but no one dared approach Athena. She stood proud, her gaze never wavering, and I saw something in her eyes—a strength that surpassed any of us.

The weight of the moment crushed me. Athena was here. She was alive. I had seen so many prophecies come and go, but none like this. I could feel the gravity of what had just occurred. This was no mere birth—it was a culmination of fear, hope, and fate. Athena was no longer just a prophecy; she was a living, breathing force. The very essence of wisdom that had been trapped in Zeus’s mind had been unleashed, and she was now standing before us, her presence undeniable.

Zeus stood frozen, still reeling from the pain of her birth. His eyes were wide, his hands trembling. His expression was a mixture of awe, fear, and regret, as if the realization of what he had done had just hit him. He looked at Athena with an intensity that made me wonder if, in that moment, he realized the true cost of his actions. Did he regret what he had done to Metis, or was he simply faced with the fact that his worst fears had come to fruition?

In that moment, I couldn’t help but feel a shift in the balance of power. Zeus might have feared the prophecy, but Athena was no mere tool of fate. She was a force unto herself.

And the world would soon know her name.