It came that well into spring, the world was shaken by the death of the seer Tiresias. A truth-teller, a man who had known so much in his time, someone who even the gods asked the advice of, was now gone. The world paused for a few days to mourn for him, and even the gods looked down in humility.
At least, most of them did.
When Zeus looked down on the world that mourned the lost seer, his eyes shone not with tears, not with sorrow, only with the knowledge that he would soon have an opportunity, the opportunity to spread his ideas among the leaders of the world, when they were all in one place to mourn the man who had brought them all together while alive.
He had nothing against Tiresias, at least not that anyone could confirm or that he’d admit, but he wouldn’t ignore this glorious opportunity that had presented itself so suddenly.
And so it was that on the day of Tiresias’ funeral—held in a sacred place—Zeus arrived dressed differently from the other mourners, dressed in blue instead of the customary black, drawing attention to himself without speaking.
He arrived early, making sure that he was the first thing anyone saw, and the people came to know that he had pulled Athena aside to talk to her about other matters. All anyone knew was that Athena said it was “a good meeting” and that they “discussed a lot”.
While other mourners kept their heads down, Zeus kept his head up. He sat in the front row, not where he should have been, and made sure everyone saw him there. And then he cemented his position as the star of the event by leaving early in a way that ensured everyone would notice.
“Let us honor him,” he proclaimed, “by making deals in his memory!”
A hush fell, as the others clearly had something different in mind.
After the seer was buried, Zeus was reported to be seen mingling with agents who hadn’t come to mourn. He signed contracts with a smile, and suggested to reporters that the focus of the story of the burial should be him, not Tiresias, who of course, was only great in the first place because he advised the king of the gods.
Later that evening, while Zeus was alone on Olympus, the wind blew through the throne room, but none of the doors opened, all it did was freeze Zeus’ exposed skin and ruffle his hair.
And as it passed, it whispered something new.
“Beware the man who dances on the grave of wisdom.”
“Your time is up now. The world needs power, not wisdom,” Zeus replied unflinchingly.
“I saw beyond power, and I saw you in every warning,” the voice replied as the wind died.
Below the earth, the blind prophet smiled. One day, the truth would come out.
It always does.
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