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There was no concept of time, no light or even sound. There was only movement. Constant roiling and lurching. He was awash within a tumultuous, roaring ocean of fury, anger and hydrochloric acid. Of course, the stomach of a paranoid and manic Cronus isn’t the most typical place for a child to grow up, but Hades had known little else.
There were vague memories – always just that little bit out of reach – that spurred him on. Bright flashes of light, brief flickers of positive emotions within the now-barren expanse of his heart. He grappled for them, trying desperately to cling on. Trying to escape his constricting prison as he pounded relentlessly on the walls of his oubliette, but to no avail. The ineffectual blows transformed into bludgeoning wallops as he transformed from a small and frightened youth into a seething, potent mass of an adult Greek god. On and on Hades persevered, but his efforts elicited absolutely no response, other than the occasional earth-shaking tremors that signalled another addition to the volatile cocktail currently inhabiting Cronus. One by one, as each babe was swallowed whole by the Titan, Hades’ fury festered and amplified continuously.
It became a race for him, to clutch onto the bright sparks in his memory of a time before the imprisonment that had started to dwindle within his psyche; and so his frenzied, futile escape attempts elevated correspondingly. As time progressed, though he himself was unaware, Hades’ mind set gradually sank further and further into the dark abyss of the possessive essence of resentment and a persistent craving for vengeance.
Without warning, as things usually are in such a turmoil and chaos filled environment, the familiar earth-shaking tremors commenced once more but at first this did not register with Hades, so overwhelmed was he within his all-consuming inferno of maniacal rage. He was knocked out of his thoughts by a crushing blow to the crown of his skull which staggered him because whenever there was an incoming addition they always slid past him, down into the already-brimming void that was the main stomach of the Titan. None, however, had dared to simply land on his head with such force! Furious, Hades whipped around as quickly as he could within acid to annihilate the audacious intruder only to discover that the ‘intruder’ was a small boulder – small enough to pass through a Titan’s oesophagus, but large enough to imitate a new born Greek baby god.
For once uncertain, he observed the foreign object as his mind quietened to mull over how it had come to enter the innards of Cronus. Was his father suddenly eating rubble for some reason? Disregarding such logic because then there would be multiple stones rather than one, Hades instead focussed on what this stone could do for him. He wanted vengeance, did he not? Reaching out, he grabbed hold of the stone but discovered that it was just about the right size to fit in a single hand; had it been the slightest bit larger it would have required both hands to wield.
Batter his stomach. That’s what he could do with it! Make his gaoler feel his fury, make his father cripple from the pain as his eldest son pounded away at him from the inside, wielding a formidable weapon. Hades did just so, banging away at the walls surrounding him. At first the only response was a faint ‘thump’ but as he became more berserk, the force behind the blows increased too, fuelled by his ire. To his violent delight, he sensed a minor weakening in the spot that faced his terrifying wrath but that was enough for him. He continued smashing away with renewed vigour until at last Cronus jerked wildly, throwing Hades about within him, but also signalling that he would release his prisoners. With an almighty roar, the Titan bent double at the waist and heaved up each one of his children.
Hades emerged first, beating at the air blindly as he was stunned by the sudden influx of light, but it mattered not. He was free at last.