The Story of Tartarus, Son of Aether & Creator of Tartaria.
In the beginning, before time was kept and kings carved their names in stone, there was only Chaos, the formless, soundless womb of existence.
From Chaos came Aether, the pure and radiant breath of the cosmos. He was the light above the heavens and the energy in all things yet to be. With him came Hemera, the embodiment of Day and a luminous force who brought shape and order to the unshaped.
Together, Aether and Hemera gave birth to a being unlike any other, their first son, Tartarus.
But Tartarus was not the abyss the poets would later whisper of in fear. He was the deep pulse of the cosmos, the condensed power of his father’s light and his mother’s order. He was the hidden energy behind creation, too vast to be contained in form and too alive to be named simply as darkness. He was the Force Beneath, the current within all things. From the breath of Aether and the brilliance of Hemera, Tartarus was the secret fire in the bones of the world.
As aeons passed, Tartarus descended not into exile, but into expression. From his essence bloomed a great empire, not of conquest, but of harmony and energy. A civilisation rose, guided by his hand and they named themselves Tartarians, in honour of the source of their power. They built shining towers that drew directly from the Aether, the medium of their grandfather, harnessing the living breath of the cosmos. The people of Tartaria lived without want; no fuel, no fire, no wires. Energy came from the air itself, as it once had in the golden age of the gods.
The cities of Tartaria glowed softly, powered by the Aetheric current, known to them as the Gift of Hemera, shaped by the wisdom of her line. Their spires were instruments of frequency. Their domes resonated with the Earth and sky. They healed with vibration, traveled without friction and lived as stewards of the planet, not its rulers.
But the world above them grew jealous.
Empires who worshipped gods of war and scarcity saw Tartaria as a threat. They could not understand a world built on balance and so they twisted the truth.
They cast Tartarus as a monster, a prison, a pit of punishment. They rewrote the myths “He is the abyss,” they said. “He is Hell.”
They erased the name of Tartaria, rebranded its cities as ruins of unknown origin. The domes became “cathedrals” and their resonance misunderstood. The towers that drew from the sky were torn down or mistaken for vanity.
And the energy, the Aether, the breath of the cosmos, was declared false. Science was rewritten. Aether was banished from textbooks, branded pseudoscience, just as Tartarus was banished from Olympus.
But some remember.
Some still know that Tartarus was not a place, but a being. That he was born of Aether and Hemera and that he fathered an empire that lived in light. That Tartaria was his legacy not a myth, not a mistake, but a memory buried beneath layers of lies.
And some still say “When the sky hums again, and the towers rise, the son of Aether will return, not as a monster, but as the force that awakens the world.”
Guy Anderson - Author
Tesla & The Cabbage Patch Kids
Rise of the Clones: The Cabbage Patch Babies
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