GREEK CATACLYMS • original

prologue.

I remember when Genesis was born. The sun was beginning to set behind the ash-coated mountain, the sky washed in molten steel, titanium, copper, and gold as my mother, Jessa, began howling profanities, all words I shouldn't have heard by the age of five. I didn't have the ability to fully comprehend what was happening, nor why she'd shoved me away and into the mud puddle when I'd tried to follow her into the birthing tent. The cold muck quickly seeped into my thin clothing, bumps prickling my skin as I watched my father trail in behind my grumbling mother, the trio of nurses squawking at him to get out. Dad eventually stumbled out like a scolded dog, humidity-waved locks swaying as his head hung low.

As Jessa began the hours-long process of labor, my father and I settled outside on a tarp laid beside the tent. Dad began trying to explain why my mother was shrieking like she was being burnt alive, but he was never good with words. He scratched at his beard every time he paused to think, a look of deep pondering contorting his features--Genesis would later learn to mimic that look perfectly. When he finally managed to form the words, he told me that the thing inside my mother was not a thing, but a person. That person that would be my sibling--didn't know what a sister or brother was; neither one of my parents ever went into the subject, as it always infuriated Jessa and Dad would tear up, demeanor turning serious. I didn't press the subject farther than asking what its name was to be, and again, he fell into an uncharacteristic silence. He hummed gently, my eyes glued to his face as he stilled, a muscle in his jaw flitting before he silently decided to leave my question unanswered, his hand sifting through the dust beneath the tarp.

As the night got darker, I'd fallen asleep in his lap, my eyes fluttering open with the shrill call of my father's name, the silver sunlight irritating my still-adjusting pupils. I couldn't stand up myself yet, my father taking it unto himself to pick me up and carrying me into the tent only for a raven-haired nurse to pluck me from his arms. I remember feeling the jut of the ground against my feet as she'd practically dropped me, forcing me to find my balance. She'd grabbed my arm to drag me to the foot of the pile of cushions my mother rested on, a bundle in her arms. Dad walked up behind me, his hand pressing against my back in gentle encouragement.

Never having seen a baby, I rushed to mother's side, startled by her arm swiping the small thing away from me, her lip curling into a scowl. My eyes darted back to my father, a vague look of apology on his face. My gaze fell to the fabric beneath my feet, listening to my mother's thunderous voice in comparison to my father's gentle one.

"A she. Name her." For a woman fresh out of labor, she still held that coldness to her.

"I named Gae-" he'd begun, my ears picking up the sound of the shifting of his feet.

Her voice holds the sharpness of a blade. "Name her, Cyrus." Jessa had a way of saying his name like it was an insult. Dad shuffled over, my line of sight moving to his figure. Even as a child, I detested looking at Jessa; her face reminded me of a viper. I remember him looking down at the swaddled infant in my mother's arms, a smile gracing his lips. A grin pulled at my own mouth at the sight; he'd looked so happy. But as she did with everything that brought any sort of joy, she'd ruined the peace of the moment, snapping at him. "CYRUS."

A wince wracked my body, my head snapping down to the ground once again. Her voice was one that could make soldiers frightened and scared me so terribly as a child that when she spoke, my heart began beating wildly in my chest. I could hear the faint murmur of my father saying the name, but the only sound that filled my ears was the pounding blood.

I'd startled when Jessa's arm had suddenly whipped out, fingers curling around my shoulder like talons as she yanked me close to her laying place. I felt like a mouse in a hawk's grasp, my eye widening in panic. My gaze flickered down to the bundle in her arms, Jessa hissing words I'd never be allowed to forget while she and I lived. "She is Genesis. You will protect her, care for her, teach her. You will train her," Jessa's hand caught my chin between her fingers, forcing my gaze to her iron expression. "She is to be put before everything. Should it come down to your life or hers, you choose her." Her volume lowered, breath hitching in my throat as I moved my line of vision to my father, the expression of horror on his face scaring me as my mother spoke. "And if she dies, Gaea, if you let her and this world die, I hope you last long enough to burn with the Earth."