Chapter 54: Helios—Phaethon (2)
The journey that had seemed so perilous turned out to be smooth, as though blessed by the gods themselves.
“Whew… so that’s the Palace of the Sun God.”
Helios’s palace shone like a vast, radiant sun.
There, aside from the Horae who guarded the main gates of Olympus, dwelled the goddesses of the day and of light. Above the palace, the gods of the seasons flitted busily through the air.
As Phaethon took a deep breath and approached the grand doors of the palace, boom—they opened on their own, welcoming him inside.
Nervous as he was, Phaethon felt his heart lift at this sign of welcome and slowly made his way toward the highest seat, where Helios himself sat.
Before Phaethon could reach him, Helios leapt from his throne and swept his son into a warm embrace.
“Oh! To see my son grown and standing before me—what a truly fortunate day this is!”
All of Phaethon’s worries melted away. Helios’s enthusiastic welcome was everything he had hoped for. He had feared his father might reject him, but those fears had been for nothing.
“So it’s true… I really am your son.”
“Of course. If you were not my son, then who else could be?”
“But… no one else believed me.”
“Phaethon, pay no heed to the words of fools. They are blinded by jealousy, nothing more.”
Helios held a grand feast, introducing his son to the other gods, brimming with joy.
When the celebration ended, Helios turned to Phaethon and said:
“I know why you have come. I swear by the River Styx that I will grant you one request—whatever you desire.”
Helios assumed that his son would ask for something simple, like proof of his divine heritage—a seal or emblem, perhaps.
Zeus, who had urged Moros to fan the flames of pride in the boy’s heart, expected the same.
He wanted Phaethon to grow arrogant and reckless in the certainty of his divine blood. And when that recklessness led to disaster, Zeus would appear magnanimous by stepping in as a merciful savior—a strategy as old as it was effective.
“Then please… let me drive that golden chariot.”
“What?!”
Helios’s eyes widened in shock.
What on earth—
“My son, that is far beyond your strength and years. You must retract that request. Even the great Zeus himself cannot control that chariot!”
But Helios had already sworn by the Styx—an unbreakable oath among the gods. He was trapped.
Desperately, he tried to dissuade his son, but youthful pride had already taken firm root in Phaethon’s heart.
If he was truly Helios’s son, then what better proof could there be than to guide the sun’s chariot across the sky?
Ah, the arrogance and recklessness of youth—a privilege all its own.
Helios pressed a hand to his forehead in regret. There was nothing more he could do.
Once an oath was sworn on the Styx, it could not be undone.
They say that when a joyous festival ends, all that remains is emptiness and worry for what comes next—
And that was exactly how Helios felt now. Like a weary steward fretting over the mess after a grand celebration.
“I was too careless… I forgot how slowly my son has matured compared to others.”
But what was said could not be unsaid, and time would not wait for Helios to fix his mistake.
Already, his sister Eos was preparing the dawn’s path, and the wandering stars—the Astra Planeta—were descending toward their ocean beds.
The Horae approached, holding the reins of the horses, and presented them to Helios.
Helios sighed, then applied an ointment to his son’s hands to protect them from the searing heat.
“Phaethon… you must be careful. Follow the wheel tracks I’ve laid across the sky—don’t stray too high or too low.
If you fly too low, the earth will burn; too high, and you’ll set the heavens aflame.”
Fortunately, the four divine horses—Pyrois, Eous, Aethon, and Phlegon—recognized the boy as Helios’s son and did not reject him.
Of course, guiding them properly was another matter entirely.
“Yes, thank you, Father. I’ll drive it safely.”
As Helios continued to warn him, explaining the countless precautions he must take—
From the Oceanus Sea, at the starting point of the chariot’s path, the goddess Tethys emerged.
“Hmm? Where is Helios, and why is such a young child here?”
“Hello, Grandmother.”
“Welcome, Lady Tethys.”
Tethys looked at the unattended chariot in disbelief.
“Helios, what have you done? How could you entrust your duty to a mere child?”
Tethys scolded Helios harshly. To her, this was unthinkable—utterly irresponsible.
A disaster was all but certain.
Helios lowered his head under her fierce rebuke and explained everything that had happened.
When Tethys finally heard the full story, she pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed deeply.
“Why are men always so impulsive and reckless…”
Yet even Tethys could do nothing about it now.
The time for the chariot to rise was upon them, and a vow sworn by the River Styx could never be broken.
Resigned, the goddess parted the mist that veiled the path of the sun.
At once, the four divine horses began to gallop forward with tremendous power.
“I’ll be back soon!”
Phaethon cried cheerfully as he set off, but behind him, both Helios and Tethys watched with deep worry in their eyes.
Tethys, in particular, shot Helios a glare so fiery it could have summoned the flames of the Underworld itself.
“……”
“……”
Because the divine horses recognized that the driver was Helios’s son, they ran carefully, restraining their strength out of respect for their true master.
“Hyah!”
Seeing how smoothly the horses obeyed, Phaethon began to believe he was doing remarkably well.
“At this rate, I might be as good a driver as Father himself!”
As he congratulated himself, something stirred faintly behind a distant cloud.
The divine horses, focused on keeping Phaethon safe, failed to notice the movement. And Phaethon—excited by the thrill of driving the Sun Chariot for the first time—was too distracted to sense the danger.
The real trouble began as they pierced through the dense clouds.
No matter how skillfully the divine steeds controlled their speed, the road through the heavens was treacherous—filled with rough air currents and savage, storming clouds.
Within those clouds lurked strange, unseen creatures.
Though they dared not approach because of the horses’ divine power, they quickly realized that Helios was not the one driving—and so they began to amuse themselves by frightening Phaethon instead.
Flash!
Suddenly, they darted across the chariot’s path, bursting with blinding light that seared Phaethon’s eyes.
“Ah!”
Startled, Phaethon yanked the reins and accidentally veered the chariot upward.
“W-whoa!”
He panicked, but the horses did not. Remaining calm, they tried to steady themselves and return to the proper course.
But while everyone’s attention was fixed on the commotion, something else began to stir—something that had remained hidden, lurking patiently behind the clouds.
Wriggle…
As the divine horses and Phaethon struggled to recover, long, coiling tendrils began to move—formed from dozens of cloud-streams, dripping with corrosive vapor.
//It was the Sky Octopus—the monstrous creature that ruled the upper clouds.
It had always stayed dormant whenever Helios passed, but now, sensing his absence, it began to move.
Neighhh!
The divine steeds cried out in fury at the sight of the creature, their voices thundering across the sky.
How dare such a pitiful beast bare its fangs at them!
But Phaethon, thrown into panic, could think of nothing else.
Had he been calm, he would have realized that as long as the divine horses were with him, the creature was no real threat.
Unfortunately, this was his first flight—and the grotesque form of the Sky Octopus was terrifying enough to remind him of some dreadful foreign god.
For one so young, it was too much to bear.
“Waaah! What do I do?!”
In his fear, Phaethon yanked hard on the reins to steer away, and the divine horses—swallowing their pride—had no choice but to flee.
Hee-hee-hee!
The Sky Octopus laughed at the sight, its grotesque form rippling with amusement. Phaethon didn’t even notice; he was too busy trying to escape.
The steeds of the Sun suffered a deep wound to their pride but held their anger in check.
What good would it do to scold their foolish young master now?
They would endure—for now—and leave Helios himself to deliver the punishment later.
Even so, the Sun began to move wildly across the heavens, its path erratic and uncontrolled.
Stars fled from its blazing approach, the constellations scattering in fear.
Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, startled by the sudden heat, bolted away in terror.
“I’m sorry!!”
Shocked by what he saw, Phaethon pulled sharply downward on the reins once more.
Thud-thud-thud-thud!
This time, the divine horses were no longer thinking about Phaethon’s safety—they only wanted to regain control of the chariot’s path as quickly as possible.
But as they tried to steady themselves, monsters hiding behind the stars caught sight of the chaos in the clouds and decided to frighten Phaethon again.
Grrroaaar!
Already terrified, Phaethon panicked once more and yanked the reins as he had before.
And so, the Sun began to plunge—straight down toward the earth.
“Uwaaaah! Father, help me!!!”
Before long, the chariot was flying lower than the Moon.
The moon goddess Selene, returning home after her nightly journey, looked up and screamed—only to stop in shock.
“Heli—wait… who’s that?”
Someone she didn’t recognize was driving her brother’s blazing chariot.
“Help me!!!”
The moment she saw Phaethon—his golden hair, his eyes and features so strikingly like Helios’s—Selene immediately understood.
“That fool!”
But there was nothing she could do except shout advice. She couldn’t possibly control both her own chariot and Helios’s at the same time.
“Child, calm yourself! Trust the horses! They are divine—if you let them, they’ll find their way back on their own!”
Yet Phaethon was beyond listening.
Below him, flames were already rising from the earth. His intended destination—Ethiopia—was in ruins: its walls collapsing, the ground cracking open, and every living thing burning to ash.
The mountains and meadows of the gods themselves were crumbling. Springs and rivers dried up under the unbearable heat of the Sun Chariot.
So fierce was its blaze that nymphs and monsters alike burrowed deep into Gaia’s body, seeking refuge underground.
Meanwhile…
“Oh heavens—what has Zeus done this time?”
Hera, who had spotted the catastrophe first from Olympus, gasped in horror.
She had known Zeus was scheming something—but this was far worse than she had imagined.
“We must stop that boy at once. Iris!”
“Lady Hera, we can’t get near him! The heat is too intense—it’s impossible to approach!”
Hera nearly tore her hair out in frustration.
That boy, Phaethon—wasn’t he the very one Zeus had been so interested in manipulating?
If this truly was Zeus’s doing, and the truth ever came out, it would cause outrage among all the divine realms.
Helios’s son, the child of Clymene, daughter of Oceanus—if word spread that Zeus had meddled with him, protests would flood in from every corner.
Worse still, the balance of the world itself could collapse.
“Iris, buy us time while I gather the gods. If we fail, it won’t just be Olympus that falls—the entire world could perish.”
“Yes, my lady!”
Following Hera’s command, Iris circled around the Sun Chariot, trying desperately to contain its raging power.
But her efforts had little effect…
Then—
BOOOOM.
The earth trembled violently.
Mountains heaved and rose, the land itself lifting up to strike at the Sun Chariot.
Neighhh!
Startled, the divine horses reared up and veered sharply skyward.
“To think you’ve ruined the very land I rule over…”
“Lady Demeter!”
“Iris, go and warn Poseidon. If we don’t drive that chariot into the sea, every living thing on earth will perish.”
“Yes, my lady!!”
Demeter, seething, resolved to force the chariot’s path toward the ocean.
Judging by the way Phaethon and the divine horses were flailing, there was no hope of them recovering control on their own.
So, she would have to force them off course.
If she could, she would have hurled them straight back into the sky—but who knew what destruction they’d cause along the way?
And, truth be told, she wanted to vent her anger a little as well.
What in the world was that fool Helios thinking…
BOOOM!
The mountain ranges surged upward, chasing after the fleeing Phaethon and the divine steeds.
Vast roots and branches of enormous trees, impervious even to the flames, lashed out—striking toward Phaethon in fury.
“Waaaah!!!”