Spite

Humanity had raged its war against the gods and had taken taken Olympus. Millions had died, but they had taken the mountain and slain the Gods. They were no more. They were gone all...save me.

I was left. I was mortally wounded! Oh those words! Those strange, strange words. A god is mortally wounded! Yet, it was true. My end was nigh. I would soon cease to be. Not merely imprisoned or sent to the void, but ended. And when a god ends, there is no afterlife. We do not have shades that move on and linger eternally. We are the eternal. And when that ends, there is no more.

I have some life spark left, even as it flickers and fades. I might stretch my moments, my god-like moments, for another century, but eventually my soul would leak away, dying, bleeding out and leaving...nothing. Not even bones that might an impression in the sediments of this world.

The a god's eternity is their life and life alone.

Yet these Humans could not appreciate it. They could not appreciate what we did in our eternal life was all we had. We could not leave greatness behind as marks upon the world because some other deity would come and erase them entirely. In this, we envied mankind.

And we hated them.

And we wrecked havoc and played with them as toys in our jealousy.

And mankind rose up and destroyed us.

I saw Zeus slain by an army. Fanatical humans. Hundreds of thousands died bringing him down. Ares would have been delighted had he not been already slain. Athena would have approved their strategy had her corpse not already evaporated into the aether.

When I saw the Father of the Gods die, I fled.

I was already pierced and doomed, but I did not want to fall then. Fall forever with no hope of vengeance.

I fled Greece for Mesopotamia. I stood upon their great tower and focused. I gathered my magical soul, the last bits, the sole magic I had left and crafted, weaved and cast my spell.

Never again would Humanity be able to rise as one against anything. Never again would Humanity have the power of solidarity. Never again would Humanity know peace. Neither would they remember their ultimate moment of victory. Their ultimate success. And neither would they ahve a common tongue.

I cursed humanity. I cursed them from their damnable Tower of Babel. I curse them with Discord. And it would be ever lasting.

And this would be my vengeance, my legacy, that no deity could undo. I had found my immortality past my eternal life.

And as I faded away, my soul spent in my triumph, I, Eris, was well pleased.