Humankind did not keep the gods above waiting long.
Under Prometheus's personal guidance, they very quickly completed all preparations.
The sacrificial ground was in perfect order, the rituals clearly laid out; voices of praise and prayer rose and did not cease, carried by the wind up to the clouds.
Prometheus drew a deep breath and once more flew to the cloudline to report to the God-King.
At that moment the gods' discussion of the divine roster was in full blaze.
Seeing Prometheus ascend, Zeus lifted a hand for the others to pause their talk.
Prometheus stepped forward and reported respectfully, "Honored Majesty, humankind has finished all preparations. Please, Majesty, receive the offerings with the gods."
Zeus nodded with a smile and merely said, "Begin."
As His words fell, His body did not move.
He still sat enthroned in the highest seat upon the clouds, making it clear He would view the rites from heaven.
Mortals were not worthy for Him to condescend and set foot upon the dust.
And the divine throne shaped by mortal hands was in no way fit to seat the Supreme God-King.
The symbolic meaning of this was immensely serious.
The farther mortals stand from gods, the more reverence fills their hearts.
The closer they stand, the easier irreverence may sprout.
The distance now was the correct symbol of divine authority.
Prometheus only hesitated a heartbeat before bowing and answering, "Yes."
In his heart, he felt both a twinge of regret and ache that the exquisite throne his children had poured their hearts into would remain without a god to descend and sit upon it, and a secret relief.
Since the gods all remained in the highest heaven, perhaps… they would not see certain "details" on the ground.
Only, ever standing in a bow, he failed to catch the meaningful glint of amusement that flashed through the God-King's eyes.
What humankind would gain, and what they would lose—
what watering the seeds growing in their hearts would receive—
all would depend on how their greatest teacher led by example.
After Prometheus descended again and saw the mortals waiting in reverence below, he drew a deep breath and used his divine power to carry his solemn voice throughout the grounds:
"His Majesty's divine might is colossal, most good and most fair! Out of pity for mortals, lest they be harmed in body or soul by gazing upon His true form, He has graciously chosen to receive your offerings from the high heavens!"
"Begin! Offer your most devout faith to the supreme and eternal Sovereign, all-good and all-fair!"
In the end, Prometheus could not bear to see the throne his children had created with such care be ignored and their effort and expectation wasted, so he gave them a comforting reason.
He had deftly found the perfect explanation for Zeus's remaining aloof above.
It both soothed human disappointment and, without fanfare, flattered the God-King a little.
Thinking of the critical step soon to come, he felt some guilt.
But once he fixed his mind on something, he would never give it up lightly.
The over three thousand human delegates standing in orderly ranks roared assent at his words.
Then each went to his or her place and drew open the curtain on this first, historic, and most holy rite between gods and mortals.
In sheer scale it would not be the grandest sacrifice in history; in significance, not necessarily the most weighty.
But it would surely be the most unforgettable sacrifice in the memory of humankind.
Around the temple, the tall ash branches were set aflame, rising with the sacred fire the gods had bestowed.
One hundred sixty-eight purest maidens, clad in gowns woven from white cloud, with flowers crowning their heads, flowed out like living light and stepped in line onto the twelve-tiered altar.
From the first to the eleventh level, each tier held twelve maidens at the four corners.
The topmost tier, closest to the gods, held thirty-six.
They stood solemnly in the exact positions and sacred postures Prometheus had taught them.
These maidens were the brightest essence among second-generation humans—the most intelligent and most beautiful.
Their bodies were pure and healthy, without the least blemish or flaw; their characters simple and kind, charming and sweet.
The garments they wore had been "illicitly" made by Prometheus, who had personally gathered white cloud from heaven to fashion clothing for them.
Humankind needed Beauty itself to move the hearts of the gods.
After all, it would truly spoil the sight to dance a sacred rite in coarse animal skins.
To preserve the sanctity and beauty of this sacrifice, preparing some pretty garments to cover these lovely maidens surely did not count as cheating, did it?
If it looked too ugly, they might as well not wear anything.
But if they wore nothing… that would be all the more improper!
For the watchers in heaven were not just His Majesty the God-King!
Though second-generation humans were inferior in constitution to the first generation, they were still worlds above common mortal beings.
Their bodies were clear and pure, their forms light and supple, their skin as fine as porcelain, fairer than snow.
Most remarkable were their eyes.
These were pairs of utterly clear, pure eyes, unstained by any worldly filth.
Within them there was only innocence and wonder, and the truest reverence and awe toward the gods.
And that sense of pride and resolve that came from shouldering a sacred mission of their own.
Eyes like these would be hard to find in merely one or two more generations.
Together with these 168 holy maidens came 168 of the strongest and bravest warriors selected from the first generation of humankind.
They were bare-chested, showing seasoned, sturdy muscles; with animal-hide skirts around their waists, heavy bullhide shields in one hand, and sharp obsidian axes in the other.
With the most respectful, steadfast, and high-spirited bearing, they stood rigid at set positions around the altar's four sides.
"Boom—! Boom—! Boom—!"
With a series of deep, thunderous drumbeats, the dance offered to the God-King formally began.
These great drums had been made after the Muses modeled them on their Father-God's majestic thunder.
They had passed the making of them to humankind, so that this sacred sound might shake the hearts of mortals.
And Prometheus, following this holy drumbeat, had created for humankind this solemn sacrificial music.
For a dance offered to the Lord of Thunder, no accompaniment could be more fitting than this drumbeat like the God-King's own heartbeat.
Around the altar, the mighty warriors began a fierce war-dance.
They stamped the earth, swung their stone axes, and roared "Hng!" and "Ha!"—their voices merging into a primal and mighty war-song.
On the altar above, the pure and lovely maidens danced a gentle devout dance.
They unfurled flowing sleeves, their bodies swayed like willow, and from their red lips they sang softly the sacred hymns to the gods.
Iron and blood and tender feeling, force and gentleness, the yang and the yin…
These two utterly different yet perfectly blending dances were, in that moment, offered together to the supreme God-King.
The warriors, by their deeds, pledged to the gods that the strength in their hands existed to guard what is more beautiful; that they would use their power to defend human purity and order!
Thus they proved they would forever faithfully uphold His Majesty the God-King's most beautiful and kind Sacred Just Order!
As the grand dance began, another 60 children—innocent, clever, and lively—entered in ranks on each of the altar's east and west sides.
These children were at most ten years old.
On each side they arranged themselves in six neat rows, and, following the tune Prometheus had taught them—the "Hymn of the God-King"—they sang in unison, in voices still tender but earnest.
Though their pitch was not yet mature, their sincerity was as pure as a spring.
In the high heavens, even Zeus Himself, when He saw this ceremony that joined "middle, youth, and young"—three generations of humankind—offering their fearful yet full-hearted sacrifice to Him, could not help but wear a satisfied smile.
These dear children, innocent and pure, sharp and clever, would charm anyone.
The maidens' simple brightness stirred the gods' admiration; the warriors' valor and striving drew their approval.
This Prometheus, though ever fond of little schemes, truly had ability and had indeed put his heart into this work.
Though… he certainly had used that little cleverness too freely.
Seeing all this, Zeus quietly decided: Very well. In view of this "performance" being worthy enough, Prometheus's next little maneuver may be granted a touch of indulgence.
Nor was Zeus the only one pleased by the sight of the ceremonial dance.
Many gods watched intently and took a real liking to it.
At first, some had looked down coldly on the goings-on of the mortal dust.
But once the drum and song resounded at the cloud tops; once they saw the warriors' hot blood, the maidens' innocence, and the children's hymn, many a god's face softened despite themselves.
Human actions were still clumsy, yet their honesty more than made up for it, truly touching some gods' long-dormant feelings deep within.
The gods' view of humankind only improved.
This newborn intelligent race truly could make the gods' eternal and monotonous existence more lively and bright.
Among the Olympic gods at present, though most had their own faults and loves,
on the whole, the vast majority still belonged to the lawful and just.
Those fond of destruction and slaughter, violent and wanton, were not truly present yet.
So when they saw such obedient and devout humankind, they naturally felt goodwill.
Especially since humans' form closely resembled the gods' default divine bodies.
This likeness in appearance made them feel, from the outset, all the more familiar and close.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.