Odyssey

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For a million years he had created machineries and wonders that spanned the stars and placed his masters at the pinnacle of all life in the universe. The masters were long gone now, cast down and torn apart atom by atom, and he had spent the last thousand years tearing apart everything he had once built.

Hephaestus could no longer remember why he had built these things – threads that drew energy from one star to another, bizarre artworks that hung between asteroids, discs of gold that encircled whole systems – nor could he remember why he was destroying them now. It no longer mattered to him. The universe was cold and barren, and soon nothing would be left. Then he could die.

The last vestige of life stood before him: humans. They were insignificant things, barely worthy of contempt. He cared only that these fragile, pathetic creatures carried in themselves something he needed – hungered for – and that his brothers and sisters would not steal his share

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