Smoke curled from dying embers, and frost crept into homes. Humanity huddled in fear, their breath misting in the frigid air. Zeus had taken fire from them, casting them back into helplessness.
Prometheus stood upon a lonely mountain, watching. His fists clenched with fury. "Zeus has gone too far."
He turned to the artifact hanging from his belt—the Lantern of Coeus, forged by Hephaestus, who hold the Titan of wisdom himself. Within its glass, golden light flickered—the power of foresight, of knowledge, of the cosmos.
Prometheus whispered to the lantern, "Show me the fire of the gods."
The lantern pulsed.
In an instant, Prometheus saw it—the sacred flame burning within Olympus itself, locked away in the halls of the gods. A fire that could never die. His jaw tightened. He would take it back.
Night fell upon Olympus, and the gods rested in their golden halls. The torches flickered, their flames casting shadows along the grand pillars.
Unseen, Prometheus moved like the wind.
He was no warrior, no thief—but he was clever. He knew where the gods' eyes wandered, when their gazes averted. He slipped through the halls, silent as a whisper, until he reached the sacred chamber.
Before him, the Eternal Flame burned, white-hot and divine.
Prometheus held up the Lantern of Coeus. The artifact hummed, its magic resonating with the fire. Slowly, gently, Prometheus guided the flames into the lantern, sealing them within. For a moment, Olympus itself seemed to shudder.
Then he turned and vanished into the night.
Across the world, humans shivered in the cold, their stomachs empty, their hands numb.
Then, a glow appeared in the distance.
Prometheus descended from the mountains, his figure illuminated by the golden light of the lantern. The people gathered, their eyes wide with awe and hope.
"Zeus has forsaken you," he declared, lifting the lantern high. "But I shall not."
With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed the fire. The flames spread like the dawn, igniting hearths, torches, and hearts.
Humanity was reborn.
And as the fire took root, Prometheus smiled, knowing he had defied Olympus itself.
The storm came at dawn.
The skies turned black, and lightning split the heavens. The earth trembled as Zeus' fury descended upon the world.
From the peak of Olympus, his voice thundered:
"Prometheus, you have betrayed me for the last time!"
Before Prometheus could flee, chains of divine lightning wrapped around his body, binding him in place. The heavens tore open, and Zeus himself descended, his form wreathed in storm and rage.
"You would defy me for these mortals?" Zeus growled.
Prometheus did not waver. "I would defy you a thousand times more."
Zeus' eyes burned with fury. With a wave of his hand, the storm carried Prometheus away, lifting him high into the sky, past the clouds, past the mountains, until—
CRASH!
Prometheus was hurled upon a lonely peak, far from man and god alike.
Zeus raised his hand, and unbreakable chains of adamant bound Prometheus to the mountain. His arms stretched, his body restrained.
Then Zeus spoke his final curse:
"For your crime, you shall suffer for eternity. Each day, an eagle shall feast upon your flesh, and each night, you shall heal—only to suffer again."
Prometheus gritted his teeth, saying nothing.
The sky rumbled. A shadow descended. The eagle of Zeus arrived.
And as its talons tore into him, Prometheus endured—unbroken.