Gaea's Blood

The blade slid through muscle and bone easily, blood flowed freely to the Earth. Spurts gushed and trickled down the pallid corpse as the gurgles and sputters of last breath echoed off of the cavernous walls. The thick crimson liquid ran into the carved grooves of the stone altar. The altar glowed, and the room trembled, dust and debris fell from the ceiling of the temple ruins, the Doric columns swayed with the Earth as if they cheered and hailed the sacrifice only to slowly come to a halt and a silence that pursued the remnant ritual. 

A smile quirked the edges of Rhea's lips as she brought the blade to her lips. She ran her tongue along the length of the blade. Tasting the unharnessed power simmering within her victim, she gripped the elder god by his dirty blonde curls and yanked his head back to stare into his eyes. Lifeless, they now glowed. Flecks of fire danced beneath the surface. 

A gold light emanated from the man's muscular form, an aura of power whirled around him like a storm wind. Rhea threw her head back in a menacing cackle. Holding her arms out to her sides, she basked in the free-flowing power. The light flowed to her, entered her eyes, mouth, nose. It consumed her. She was fire; she was light. Electricity sizzled between her fingertips.

She released the corpse, and it crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Rhea stepped over the body and stood before the massive wrought-iron gate that occupied the northern wall of the temple. Through the gate dark depths awaited, and in the darkness a beast roared. She tossed her auburn curls over her shoulder and turned to address the dead man.

"Zeus, how the mighty has fallen. My son." She raised her arms and focused on her energy. A large bolt of lighting formed in her right hand. She prepared to launch the bolt. The bolt struck the large lock in the center of the gate. A thunderous roar echoed throughout the building. The gate groaned and shuttered, then finally swung forward, opening an inch.

A smirk played at Rhea's ruby lips. She stuck her head through the opening in the gate.

"The time reclaim our kingdom! Join me, friends. You are free." The winds whistled through the cavern. In the distance, eyes glowed. Many sets of golden eyes approached until finally Rhea saw the muscular man standing in the cave's entryway. His brown curls were long and unruly, his beard showed months of growth. His chiseled form glowed with power.

"At last, my love." The man spoke softly, reaching a hand toward Rhea. She smiled and ran forward, throwing herself into his embrace.

"Cronus, we are free." She sighed in delight, her lips reaching to meet his in a joyful kiss.

"It is time." Cronus announced. More figures stepped toward the light. All dirty and overgrown, the form of the Titans was clearly visible. They stepped forward, into freedom.

The incandescent moon illuminated the night sky. Stars shone brilliantly, unimpeded by lights. The crisp evening breeze blew across the mountainside, near a temple in Northern Greece. Torches illuminated the hypostyle hall, shadows danced off of the Corinthian pillars. Twelve figures lounged on lavishly cushioned benches with goblets of wine in their hands. Cronus seated himself on a golden throne, placed at the Northern head of the temple. The other Titans were reveling in their newfound freedom, enjoying the crisp night air.

"It is time, my friends, for us to reclaim our rightful place." Cronus announced, his voice booming throughout the open room. The Titans paused in their conversation and immediately sat at attention. Rhea strutted forward, her hips swaying as she stepped. She draped herself across Cronus' lap.

"Those Olympians have held our power long enough. I want them to bleed." Rhea purred. Cronus gave a patronizing smile and patted her cheek. He gestured with his hand, and a doulos — slave — girl wearing a thin chiton emerged from the back rooms of the temple. She carried a large, intricately carved bronze box on a velvet pillow. She paced, her shoulders slumped, and she trembled. This girl was from the local village, the one that maintained the temple to Rhea, which they currently inhabited. Cronus took the box from the young girl as she came forward. She scurried off again into the darkness.

"I have saved this for millennia, but I believe this is the perfect occasion to use it." He removed the lit from the box, and a crystal vial rested in the center of a large pillow. Delicately, he lifted the vial and held it up to the light.

"Is that…?" Rhea gasped; from his lap. She also examined the vial. Cronus' lips quirked up in a cruel smile.

"Gaea's blood." The crimson liquid settled in the vial's bottom. It was dark and rich, like the Earth Goddess it came from. "We will use this for the binding ritual. It is time the Olympians knew what it is like to be caged for millennia. They will go without their home, their full powers, they will have insatiable hunger, and they will walk amongst the mortals they were once worshipped by." Cronus removed Rhea from his lap and strode to the center of the room.

  He gripped the wax seal on the top of the vial and broke it open. Tipping the vial over his finger, he let a single drop of colour from his fingertip. He strode to the raised altar on the North side of the building. Upon the altar he drew a circle in the blood on his fingertip. Within the circle he inscribed the names of the twelve Olympian gods: Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Ares, Hestia, Hermes, Athena, Apollo, Hera, Artemis, Hephaestus, Aphrodite. Next to their names he wrote "I bind thee". And spoke the words aloud.

"By this sacrifice I bind thee to the darkness. I bind them to hunger. I bind them to the mortal plane and leash their powers. With this blood I command thee, until they have learned that which it is to suffer. So, mote it be." He tipped the vial and dripped the offering of Gaea's blood on to the altar.

The blood welled, simmered as if boiling. Steam rose from the circle's edges. He nodded to the Titans surrounding him. One by one they stepped forward, taking the ritual dagger Cronus held and slashing at their palms dripping blood onto the altar. Shadows coiled from the blood, rising above the altar. Diaphanous figures with demonic faces and fangs emerged from the shadows, their ghastly forms darted out of the temple, into the night. The air sharpened, the atmosphere was tense.

Thus, the gods were cast down to the Earth. It chained them in their powers, unable to take their immortal form. Their mortality guaranteed, but they remained ageless. They wouldn't escape a gruesome death at old age. Hungering immensely, never satiated, always parched. They required the blood of their victims to sustain their power and form. Cursed to walk the Earth for eternity, in the darkness. 

They and all of their descendants would be cursed thus. The Titans invaded Olympus, subjugated the rest of the minor gods, and watched the suffering unfold. Thus, the first vampires were born. The gods created descendants to follow and protect them. Families that stood together through time. They would always be hunted, by each other, and by the descendants of the Greek heroes, seeking to eradicate the scourge on Earth and some to steal the power of the gods. And so, the millennia passed…