Costa was slumped over the kitchen table, flicking his lead pencil back and forth, when the phone started to ring.

‘Mama,’ he groaned over the blearing from the hallway.

‘Ne, Costa, xéro!’ His mum sped through the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her worn apron before quickly picking up the phone, ‘Parakaló.’

Costa glared at his maths homework while his mother excitedly asked his Theia Vasiliki how she was doing. He couldn’t help but restlessly tap his pencil against the smudge-ridden sheet of paper. None of it had been making any sense since the addition of letters to the syllabus. In fact, it was really egging on his urge to rip it to shreds.

Costa dropped his head to the table and sneakily watched his mother from the corner of his eye. She twirled and twisted the phone cord between her fingers as she nodded along to the voice on the other side of the receiver. When she suddenly dropped the cord and frowned, Costa strained to listen in.

‘Ti ennoeís…’ His mother looked up in a panic, her eyes darting to his in the kitchen before quickly dropping back to the phone base. ‘Perímene.’

Hold on? What for? He thought. But without another word, his mother picked up the whole base of the phone and stormed into the closest room, slamming the door shut behind her.

‘Jeez…’ Costa muttered. His sister poked her head around the corner.

‘What’s that about?’ Tiah asked.

‘Does it look like I know?’ He replied, throwing his led pencil at her. It hit her square in the forehead, and she pretended to spit in his direction.

‘What is your deal? You were obviously eavesdropping, vlaka.’ She quickly dropped into the chair across from him.

He eyed his pencil that was now rolling away from them. ‘Can you pass my pencil back?’

‘You really are stupid, re. I’m not picking it up after you threw it at me!’ She kicked him under the table, and he kicked her right back. ‘Besides, you’re not doing your work anyway.’ He glanced back down at the half-answered sheet of questions before slouching further into the chair with a groan.

‘And so what? I need to at least look like I am for when Baba gets home.’

‘Please, we both know no matter what you’re doing he’s going to be pissed off at you. He’s not going to be home for at least another hour, anyway.’

His eyes darted to the bedroom door that his mother was now hidden behind.

‘I think something’s wrong,’ he said, and his sister leant eagerly over the table.

‘So you did hear something?’ When he shook his head, she snatched his worksheet from beneath his hands. ‘Spill. It.’

‘I’m telling you,’ he snatched the paper back, ‘I didn’t hear anything. She just picked up the phone and left.’

‘Malakíes.’

‘I’m not bullshitting you, she didn’t say anything. But it’s obviously serious, you know she doesn’t usually hide gossip from us.’

Costa snapped his head up at the sound of a door opening, his hands shaking and his heartrate jumping. When Phoebe stumbled through the hallway, he slumped over in relief.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ She asked, throwing off her work apron before sitting beside Tiah.

‘Nothing. How was the café?’ he mumbled.

‘Baba has done something,’ Tiah interrupted, rapid fire.

‘What do you mean? He’s on the plane home as we speak,’ Phoebe asked.

‘Not sure, but Mama and Theia Vasiliki are on a very tense phone call in the other room.’

‘We don’t even know that it’s about him,’ Costa said.

‘Clearly it is! He was at their house before catching his flight back home. Use your brain for once,’ Tiah argued back.

Phoebe scooped a handful of assorted nuts from the bowl in the middle of the table and let them drop into her mouth. ‘So?’ She said through the mouthful.

Before they could say more, Costa saw the bedroom door open. He quickly scrambled to look busy, hunching back over his homework without his pencil. He eyed his mother as she lightly closed the door behind her and placed the phone and its base back on the stand. She hovered in place for a moment before slumping sadly against the wall.

‘Yia sou, Mama… Ti kanis? I-Is everything alright?’ Phoebe asked, slowly lifting herself from the chair. Their mother straightened up and shook her head.

‘Kalá, agapi mou… I’ll be oke’ darling.’ Costa’s heart sank when his mother quickly wiped at her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to hide her tears.

‘Mama, tell us what’s wrong,’ Tiah said, running from the chair to her mother’s side. Tiah held their mother’s face in her hands, but Glykeria looked away.

‘Típota, oke’. You shouldn’t see…’ Failing to hold it in, their Mama erupted into sobs that shook her entire body. He and his sisters stood in shocked silence when their mother fell through Tiah’s hands and sobbed on her knees.

Costa slammed his hands on the table and the numbness spread through his palms. ‘Mama. What did Baba do?’

The rusty creak of the back door opening momentarily drowned out their mother’s sobs. Costa suddenly felt like a nest of baby spiders were crawling up his entire body.

‘Yia sas, I’m home!’

His father’s footsteps echoed down the hall. Costa’s legs gave out and he dropped back down into his seat.

He should still be in the air, why is he back so early?

Costa’s head swam as he tried to come up with an excuse for what was happening. He hadn’t done anything, but he knew his father was bound to take it out on him. Costa almost jumped out of his skin at the light touch of a hand on his shoulder. He looked up with a jerk to find his mother’s tear-stained face looking down at him with a small smile. She leant down and whispered in his ear.

‘Don’t worry, moro mou. I’ll handle Baba.’ Her lips brushed the crown of his head.

Costa looked back up when his father stepped into the entryway. He watched wordlessly as his father’s shoe came in contact with his discarded pencil, and it was flung back in Costa’s direction.

‘What the… Costa, have you been fooling around again?’ His father grumbled. Costa slowly leaned down to pick it up.

‘Sorry, Baba—’

‘Ochi, Costa. Don’t say more,’ his mother cut in. His parents stared silently at each other, and for maybe the first time in Costa’s life, his father looked genuinely shocked.

‘I’m home early, is no one happy to see me?’

His mother’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

‘Come outside, Georgios.’ Their mother stormed past their father and when she purposefully whacked his shoulder with hers Costa shared a look of horror with Phoebe across the table.

‘Yiatí?’ Georgios threw his suitcase to the floor.

‘Den perimeno, Georgios. Now.’ The back door slammed open and their father continued to protest as he followed her out.

Costa glanced over his shoulder and Tiah sped past him. She stood on the tips of her toes and slapped the doily curtains out of the way to try and see out the window. She jumped a few times before groaning in defeat.

‘I’m too short…’

‘And you called me stupid,’ Costa stood up and quickly ran past her into the hallway. ‘Come sit by the door.’ He dropped to his knees and lightly pushed the door open.

‘You’re both idiots. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping on them, give them some privacy. Mama will tell us what happened later,’ Phoebe said. Ignoring her, Tiah dropped down beside him.

‘You’re nineteen years old and you’re going to wait for Mama to sugarcoat their fight?’ Tiah said and Costa lightly slapped her.

‘Sh, I’m trying to listen!’ He whispered.

Phoebe’s chair dragged across the floor, and he listened to her footsteps walk in the opposite direction.

Costa peered through the crack in the door and his stomach lurched.

‘Who is she, eh? Little Theo heard you talking to a woman and kids! They… They called you Baba!’ His mother, red in the face, yelled at and shoved his father.

‘Ti les mori! Are you going to take the word of a child over me?’ He swiped her hands away.

‘Skáse… Skáse! Stop the lies!’ She grabbed his shoulders and violently shook him. ‘Pii eínai afti? Gianna? Emannuel? Konstantinos? Who are they, Georgios!’

Tiah gasped beside him. ‘Baba didn’t… he wouldn’t…’

Costa dug his shaking fingers into the doorframe and his nails scraped up splinters of wood.

Their father said nothing. He pushed his wife’s hands off him and walked further into the backyard.

‘Yiatí, Georgios… Why do this to me… Padia mas,’ cried his mother before chasing after him.

‘I’m going out there,’ Costa said and Tiah’s grip on his arm tightened.

‘No Costa, you shouldn’t,’ Tiah urged, fear shining in her eyes.

Costa shrugged her off and shouldered the door open. He took a shaky step forward and swallowed down the bile in his throat.

In his loneliest nights where he’d slept cradling a bruised wrist or laid with a frozen pack of peas on his stinging cheek, he’d clutched onto his stavro and prayed to God for his father to disappear. For someone or something to take him away. He’d even relished those long months where he had stayed away longer for work, but now… Tears welled up in his eyes, and he crumpled against the side of the house. It’s my fault, I prayed for this. How could he do this to Mama?

‘Tin agapó, oke’! Is that what you want to hear? That my children with her were born out of love! That she’s pregnant as we speak! You may be my wife under God, but Gianna is… karthia mou. Let God punish me if he must, but I have no regrets.’ The sound of his mother’s sobs grew louder.

‘I left all I knew behind. My home… kai ti zoi mou, all for you. I thought you my winged Ikaros when you flew me to this new sky. Se perimena edo… but you only burn me!’

Still half hiding behind the corner of the house, Costa gathered his courage and quietly snuck up behind them. His mother was sobbing on her knees in front of their fishpond, clawing up fistfuls of dirt and grass between the decorative rocks.

‘Eisai i agapi tis zois mou! You hear, the love of my life!’ Georgios said and Costa’s mother wept. His father leant unbothered against their outdoor table and Costa’s nails dug into his palms. You think you’re so untouchable in your little pilot uniform…

‘Oh, don’t be dramatic. We both know you love our children more than you ever loved me, Glykeria.’

Georgios grabbed her by her hair and kicked her like some stray on the street. Costa’s breath caught in his throat. Costa’s entire body exploded with adrenalin and his eyes darted around for something, anything he could use to get him off her. Encrusted with dirt and withered weeds, his mother’s gardening sickle sat abandoned on the table that his father had leant against.

Costa snatched it up by the handle.

He pointed the blade toward his own father.

‘Let. Her. Go.’ The words trembled out of Costa’s mouth. His mother’s gaze lifted to his and her eyes widened, full of fear and dread.

‘Costa—’ she started, but his father threw her roughly to the side. Costa’s body shook uncontrollably. His father glanced lazily at him over his shoulder.

‘My young son. What do you think you’re doing pointing that at me?’ He chuckled and Costa spat at him.

‘Poutanas ios! How could you do this, Baba?’ His father’s smile dropped into a scowl.

‘Watch your mouth,’ his father replied, turning to face him completely.

Costa jumped a step forward, jabbing the blade toward his father. Georgios laughed again but still took a step backward. ‘Do you really think you can hurt me?’ His father leered.

Costa knew how pathetic he looked. He was shaking and hyperventilating like the rabbits they hunt at their shack on the regular. Everything felt too intense. Even the stars and sky above him seemed to press down on him, almost like he and his father were squished neck and neck together in a tiny linen closet and he was deathly claustrophobic.

Destroy him and take what is yours, a voice that seemed to whisper to only him begged eagerly. It made his skin crawl and the hairs on his neck rose… But maybe it was right?

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before tightening his grip on the handle.

‘You think because Harry and Yianni aren’t here that you can get away with this shit? How dare you even touch a hair on Mama’s head after what you’ve done. What will people say and think now! What kind of man jet sets around the world only to whore himself out the moment he’s out of sight?’ He took another step forward and jabbed the blade again.

‘How dare you!’ His father bellowed, going to take a step forward before backing up at the sight of the blade.

‘You are a coward, Baba. A selfish, spineless coward who hits his wife and children, and I will never take another beating from you. This ends now.’

‘Moro mou, stop!’ His mother screamed.

Costa’s body moved instinctively, and he sliced upward in an arc. The curved blade slashed his father from his waist to his shoulder and the older man cried out in pain. His father stumbled backward, and blood trickled through the elongated cut in his uniform. Costa’s lips tugged up into a thin smile.

‘You’re a good for nothing brat, Costa. And if you ever have kids, I pray that they’re just as pathetic as you!’ His father panted, pointing a bloodstained finger at him.

Costa’s eyes blurred over with tears, and he lifted the sickle, preparing to slice again. His father, cowering away, stepped backward into one of the ditches of dirt his wife had been clawing up in her despair. His father’s ankle made an ugly snapping sound, and he tumbled backward toward the pond. The howl of pain he let out was quickly extinguished by the wretched crack of his neck colliding with a rock.

‘Georgios!’ His mother shrieked fearfully as water splashed up around his father’s limp body.

The blood drained from Costa’s face and the rest of his body felt like it was melting down into the ground with it. Straight to Hell where murderers go, he imagined fearfully. His grip on the handle weakened until it fell to the ground. He collapsed to his knees, trembling and grasping at the grass and clutching his Stavro, begging for God to forgive him. His father’s blood leaked into the pond and diluted it red, sending the fish swimming as far away as they could from his body in erratic circles.

Glykeria stumbled over and scooped her husband out of the water and checked his pulse.

‘I… is Baba…’ He couldn’t even say it.

His mother’s wide eyes snapped to his. ‘Kaléste éna asthenofóro! Now, Costa!’

Right… an ambulance…

Costa shakily got to his feet and ran inside.

*

Gusts of swirling storm winds lifted the sweat encrusted hair from the base of their neck. They squinted, trying to blink through the dust but it was no use. It stung a thousand tiny pinpricking bites at any and all exposed flesh on their body, like they were covered in an army of ants. Every breath they took coated their tongue with yet another inescapable layer of earth. The flavour mingled with the bitter, metallic taste of their power, leaving an aftertaste reminiscent of the ashy smoke of an offering.

They clenched their jaw, and grains of dirt crunched beneath the weight of their molars. The plains quaked erratically beneath their feet with every new boulder that fell from the hundred-handed grasps with the impact of tumbling asteroids upon their enemies. The bolt dug into their palm, sending tingling shockwaves through the branches of nerves in their fingertips. Their heels dug into the dirt from the weight of raising their arm and lifting the bolt above their head. Taking a deep breath, the pit in their stomach loosened. Sparks crackled and the welcome smell of burning ozone filled the air. Fuelled by a fury so searing, a heatwave spread across the battlefield as they slowly wound their arm backward.

They hurled the bolt forward with all their might. A dazzling shooting star, it flew across the Heavens engulfed by a shower of whirling blue and silver flame. When it crashed to the Earth, a soul shattering thunderclap rang true, and Gaia’s surface cracked open. The sky erupted in a blinding white light and the blistering heat intensified, their skin itching with power.

The Earth finally surrendered, exhaling a wet death rattle before crumbling to give way to the dank shadows below. There Cronus laid in his chamber, reeking of defeat.

They slashed down with the blade.

Gold ichor burst across silver steel.

Again and again, they sliced at the fallen Titan.

Limbs laid unmoving in the barren dirt.

Yet… it was still not enough.

Not the taste of their Father’s splattered lifeblood that seeped into their chapped lips now, nor the aroma of the kótinos that had adorned the conquered kingdom of golden splendour they had seized. The Titan deserved eternal punishment more severe than being merely shackled to Hades’ decaying realm, feeble and overthrown. Nothing would satiate the hunger that had grown cancerous and biting in their gut after all those years suppressed on that tiny island, scuttling in that cave like a starved rat.

They reached down and plucked the ever-beating heart from beneath piles of cracked porcelain bone and severed veins.

Yes, what Cronus deserved was to be reduced to the pitiful mortal trappings of death and decay.

They would find a way to sever the threads that tied their Father to his immortal soul and dispel his essence from the very sinew and tendons that contorted the Heavens.

*