It is
inevitable. It is from his touch that we pass from child to man
or woman, from youth to middle age, from middle age to an elder
estate. It is a process you would not desire to compress. No,
search not for Cronus. He is not well met!"
Demo pondered her words, the story she had told. Fable, or
fact? At one time he would have thought the former. Now he was
completely unsure. His simple world had turned strange.
Demo began his trip, knowing not the way, knowing not the guise
of him whom he sought. The fates were kind, and he found aid
along the way.
"Earthling, attend me!"
The voice was soft, yet commanding.
He breathed deeply as he gazed upon her. The beauty of Athena,
of Medusa, he had thought, could not be surpassed. He was wrong.
The diaphanous gown accentuated, rather than hid, the exquisite
form of the maiden who addressed him. The face was beautiful not
only in its own right, but in its every response to her
thoughts. Now with a slight blush, now calm and serene, now
smiling and happy - always with an innocence that beguiled and
attracted.
"I am Venus. It is for my sake that Zeus has dispatched you on
this dreadful sojourn. And dreadful must it be for you, for when
Cronus looks upon you the bonds of time will lock you in their
embrace. Yet there is no other way." She sobbed.
"Take this. When you tend Cronus, tell him from whence it came.
Then ask him, must the beautiful blond hair of Venus turn gray.
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