Prompt: Asteria
1967, a young man, who'd reinvented himself over a hundred times since the fall of Ancient Greece, answered the heavy thuds on his front door. He swore if it was his ex-wife that he'd hit her with a lightning bolt. Throwing the door open, the torrent of rain and hunched mass came inside. Most would have thrown such a foreboding bundle out immediately, but he still believed in xenia.
Unwrapping the bundle, a woman laid on the carpet, whose features, strong and proud, had not deteriorated with the brown blotches on her skin. He could tell by the yards of midnight-blue fabric wrapped around her and the bag by her side that appeared to be made of the cosmos that she was Asteria, the titaness. He couldn't remember if she was his mother's or father's sister or just in that generation, but that mattered little to the chrome liquid that pooled from a wound in the woman's side.
He started fumbling for something to stanch the hole in her abdomen when Asteria whispered, "He is coming Zeus, the void before all."
"The Fates said nothing about this. How would you know?"
"The stars," she said gesturing to the bag, "they warned me and he came, but you must know." She coughed silver droplets covering her hand. "Only with your youngest son is there hope of stopping him."
Pressing a towel he found to the wound he asked, "Kairos? How will a god of opportunity stop him?"
Pulling a glowing orb from her bag, Asteria gave it to the young man, but it burned the hands of the lighting thrower. She stared into the white light saying, "They are calling his name, glory abound," her hand fell limply to the carpet the orb rolling out of her hand searing the fibers as one final word escaped her lips before disappearing in a flash of light.
"Perikles."