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The wall shook as Atlas drove a colossal fist into it, yet for all the weight that the titanic cyclops could put behind the crushing blow, the crystalline surface was hardly even marred. A low rumble of frustration escaped his throat, and he glared balefully at the hazy wall in some futile attempt to peer through the great translucent and catch a glimpse of whatever lay beyond his cage; all the other assembled cyclopes just gawked at the scene.
Synros spared a glance over his shoulder as the giant made another attempt to break their temporary prison. He had hoped that he would have heeded his advice immediately, for his trust and belief in the Creator was absolute, but he should have known better. With a slight shake of his head he returned to the task he had assigned himself, walking among his people and bestowing names upon them. He felt it was his duty to do so, an obligatory part of being their assigned leader. He knew in time they may have chosen their own, but the act of being given a name had been the catalyst to making him alive. The other Cyclopes deserved to feel the same sensation.
Steropes. Brontes. Belos. Abydos. Ariphron. Mikon. The names came one by one and felt natural, as if they weren't being bestowed or invented but had been there all along and were simply now being revealed by Synros. Each of the cyclopes accepted their given name.
A soft throbbing called upon Atlas to unfurl his fist and lift up his great brawny hand to inspect it. The dull grey stone of his fingers had suffered no obvious damage, but a few tiny fissures and cracks had formed. They would take time to heal, and with that realization Atlas reluctantly yielded. That had been the third (and would be the final!) attempt that he made to batter his way out of their vessel. He finally turned around, and his great eye swept over the heads of all the other cyclopes and singled out Synros among the crowd. "You were right," he admitted. "Got to wait until Creator thinks it time." Though he'd finally accepted it, he was still anything but pleased. Atlas slumped down against the wall and sat for the first time since his birth.
"As I said, he would not create us just to leave us stranded within a cage. However I am impressed with how sturdy he made these walls if even your fists cannot break through." He turned away from their kin to face Atlas properly, who while seated might have been mistaken for a large boulder were it not for that glowering look he wore on his eye. "I am certain that our journey is nearing its end. At least this portion of it." Silence punctuated Synros' claim.
Eventually the light of Heliopolis struck their crystal vessel at just the right angle, and the chamber that housed the journeying cyclopes was suddenly awash with cascades of prismatic color. The scintillating light exploded into rainbows that dazzled and awed the cyclopes, at least for a time. The colors were all so grand, so exciting, and so welcoming compared to the utter darkness of the place where they'd been born, or the normally monochromatic glassy surface inside the crystal. It seemed as though it was another personal gift, sent to them by their Creator; it represented a promise that there was something waiting for them, something grand and vibrant and unknowable and exciting. But then the crystal gradually shifted such that the light no longer struck it at that perfect angle, and the beauty of that sight was gone.
Synros remained stunned for several moments after the brilliance of the rainbows had finally faded away, his singular eye opening and closing slowly. Even with all the information that he had been given by the Architect he could hardly fathom the beauty that had just graced him and his people. When the awe finally faded to a simple appreciation, and desire to witness it once again, his attention once more fell onto Atlas. "Could you ask for a surer sign that our Creator favors us Atlas? Why else would he give us such a magnificent sight, something that was nothing less than divine?"
Yet Atlas seemed a stubborn and shortsighted friend. "Can touch steel. Can feel Creator and Creator's decrees. But that? Can only see for few seconds. Was nothing."
He remained sullen and slumped against the wall, and for the first time in their lives, some of the other cyclopes began to murmur. They look to their nearest neighbors and instinctively called to one another by name, mulling over whose philosophy was right. If Atlas noticed them talking, he certainly didn't care. He didn't even move, and something about the silent giant was daunting enough that none of the other cyclopes approached him, much less addressed him directly.
A frown formed upon the face of Synros, provoked not only by the words of his friend but also the spark that had been created in their wake. There was no question in his mind that the Creator was watching them and always would, he simply could not understand the disbelief that had begun to grow in some of his kin. Eventually it would have to be addressed and dealt with, but for the time he had no inclination on how to go about it.
The assembled crowd found themselves so preoccupied with this conversation that as their great crystal vessel drew nearer to Galbar and hints of light from the Blue creeped through the smoky walls, the subtle change went unseen. But then there was a more brilliant hue as brazen orange began to wreathe the crystal, its descent so fast that it set the air aflame and cut through the sky as a fiery wound.
At this point they had been descending for longer than they had been within the home of the Architect and Synros was far from unaffected by this fact. Frustration had made itself known to him and he briefly entertained the idea of mimicking Atlas's earlier attempts to free them. This idea was quickly quenched, partially due to the fact he did not believe he would be any more successful than the giant had been and because he had no idea what waited beyond. He could only hope they would make landfall soon for the sake of all of the cyclopes. That thought was interrupted by a rumble as the entire crystal trembled, punctuated by a sharp crack as some of its outermost surface flaked off in the atmospheric drag. The turbulent descent made Atlas instinctively find purchase for his hands upon the wall behind him, and he clutched onto it with the same crushing grip that he'd earlier demonstrated to Synros.
The demigod was quick to follow the example of his friend, planting all four of his hands onto the wall to stabilize himself. Despite the chaos of the present situation he could not stop his lips from lifting into a smile, for to him it was as if his thoughts had been transformed into a prayer heard by the Creator who answered near immediately.
Many of the cyclopes also ran to the walls and clung to them, whilst others grasped at crevices or uneven parts of the floor, but still some were left standing in a daze with nothing to take hold of in sight.
Then the impact happened. Nothing could have prepared them for it. It was as though the entire world was engulfed in a blinding flash, and then there was an unending hail of dirt and rocky shards and even bits of crystal that had been near instantaneously pulverized to sand. Choking dust filled the air, and sound lost all meaning entirely as their ears and minds alike were nearly shattered by the boom. They were thrown every which way and utterly engulfed in storms and waves of debris, as helpless and overwhelmed as a fallen autumn leaf swept up in a tornado. Were it not for the resilience and power and might of their stony bodies, and perhaps even for something like luck of destiny, they would have all died. As it was, many of them did die, but their deaths were at least as close to instant as one could ever hope for.
But many of them survived.
Synros was among those who survived the explosive landing. When the crystal vessel had began breaking apart he maintained his grip on the chunk of wall he had been holding. He refused to let go even as he was launched away from his kin, sailing through the air with the crystal locked firmly below him. His flight, which felt like it lasted ages, eventually came to a close with him landing skidding along the ground upon his impromptu shield. By the time he came to a complete stop the crystal had finally sustained enough damage to break into smaller pieces, the four largest still held within his grasp and now they possessed jagged edges. Slowly he pushed himself to his feet, his glowing eye swinging towards the direction he had came from where he could just make out what remained of his former cage.
For a moment he was transfixed by the sight, but he was broken free of this hypnotism as pain burst from his entire back. Craning his head as far around as he could he stared down and saw dozens of shards embedded within his stony exterior, though most failed to penetrate very deeply. With many of them out of his reach he had no choice but to push the pain into the depths of his mind, he had a task to attend to after all. Besides a few chunks of cyclopes around him, including the head of Abydos which brought him a measure of sadness, none of his kin were anywhere to be seen. The need to regroup with his people burned in his chest and he knew his best bet would be to start from the object that was their ride down. With a destination in mind Synros began the trek back towards the crystal ship, or what remained of it anyway.
As the dust slowly settled, the sounds of the wildlife reluctantly returned. Here, there was a tree that had been shorn in half and practically reduced to a heap of splinters. Right beside it was one that had survived, and beneath its branches was a mighty cavity where great Atlas had struck the earth and by his own weight half-buried himself. They were of course far, far from where the crystal had landed, on the rim of the crater.
A small bird dared land on a branch of that tree and look down at the strange boulder below. The mundane creature had a simple mind, so it soon turned its attention elsewhere and chirped its favorite song. Below it, Atlas stirred.
To his ringing ears, the shrill song was sharp and painful as a lunging spearpoint. The shivering agony voice awoke a great rage in his heart and summoned him back from his slumber, and with a bellow he tore himself free of the ground and was in an instant ripping the branch free from the tree and pulverizing the queer morsel that had tormented him with its sound. The tree's great trunk shifted when the hulking cyclops then rested his back upon it.
His head was still throbbing, so he sat in silent contemplation and willed the pain to trouble him no more. Atlas' will was iron, but not even it could work so fast. So his eye peered out across the crater from where he rested beneath the tree. He saw the shattered corpses of some of his brethren; it seemed as though they had been made of weaker stone than he. Some were still whole, though none of them yet moved. Atlas let out no more than one grunt as he suffered the agony in his head and waited. Heliopolis, that strange burning light in the sky, pestered Atlas nearly as much as the bird had. Fortunately for Heliopolis, it was too far away for the Might of the Cyclopes to reach out and crush. Atlas nonetheless offered it a baleful glare, and it returned the stare, but eventually it shrank away to hide beyond the horizon like the cowardly thing it was. In the dying light of dusk, Atlas perceived the silhouette of one lone cyclops in the crater below, walking towards the remnants of the crystal.
It could be only one--Synros. Atlas heaved himself back onto both feet, shrugged off the pain, and began to march down the pulverized hillside and into the great crater. As the air grew dark and cooler, some of the other cyclopes began to stir and awaken. 'Good,' he thought, 'maybe spear still has head.'
His kin lay scattered around him, some beginning to show life but far too many exhibiting the stillness that one can only achieve in death. He wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees in the sight of his failure, it was his duty to watch over and protect the children of the Creator, yet he knew that such an emotional display was not a luxury afforded to him. Synros had no choice but to remain strong for those of his people that had survived. Upon seeing the hulking behemoth that was Atlas he sent a silent prayer to the Creator, the survival of his friend was a small blessing in the face of the devastation that had claimed the lives of dozens.
With great care, stepping around the bodies of the dead, he made his way toward the giant cyclops. "Thank the Creator you survived, Atlas. When I first saw what had happened to our prison I feared I was the sole survivor. I should have known it would take more to fell you." As he spoke he gave his ally a firm clap on the back before turning towards the others who had finally found their feet. He had had little time to prepare a proper speech and instead decided to follow his gut.
"Cyclopes look around you, see those who will never rise again. They were weak, unsuited to see the beauty of the world our Creator made. Those of you who still stand, who still draw breath, you have proven yourselves worthy. Worthy to gaze upon this land and worthy to call yourself a cyclops. You have the strength needed to survive, the drive to claim what you want as yours. Weakness means death. Let the corpses that surround you cement that fact into your very core. Every single one of us must be strong, stronger than the stone we were born of, stronger than any obstacle that tries to slow us. Those who falter or fall behind will be forced back in line or they will be forgotten. For now we are wanderers, but this shall not last forever. We shall find a place to call home and claim it as ours."
Synros turned away from his people and turned his gaze skyward, his upper arms extending outwards with his palms up. "See your chosen Creator, we survived our brutal arrival upon your world. The weak were culled and only the strong remain. Mentally we are prepared to face all challenges, yet we lack the material to put your gift to use. Hear me Synros, the First Cyclops, and deliver what we need to fulfill our purpose."
As if in answer, the sky was suddenly aglow with a meteor shower. Atlas was the first to notice it, but the other quickly followed his gaze and witnessed a thousand falling stars streak down to land somewhere close. With little more than a low growl that rumbled from his chest and throat, the giant trudged at a leisurely pace (made swift by his giant strides) towards the near horizon. "This way," he told Synros and all the others.
Katon.