The tragic myth of the Sun God's son - Iseult Gillespie
Every morning, Helios harnessed
his winged horses,
unleashed his golden chariot,
and set out across the sky.
As the Sun God transformed the rosy dawn
into the golden blooms of day,
he thought of those far below.
Years ago, he fell in love
with a water nymph named Clymene.
Together, they had seven daughters
and one son named Phaethon.
But Helios had a wandering eye.
Clymene eventually left him,
taking their children with her
and marrying King Merops of Ethiopia.
When Phaethon was little, Clymene told him
tales of his divine father.
As he grew into a young man,
he took a special pride in knowing
he was the Sun God’s child.
However, one day, Epaphus, Phaethon’s peer
who was himself the son of Zeus,
sought to temper Phaethon’s arrogance,
taunting that Helios wasn’t his father
after all.
With no absolute proof to the contrary,
the possibility bore into Phaethon’s mind.
He feared that his mother had lied.
And who was he if not Helios’ son?
When Phaethon confronted Clymene,
she insisted that his father
was the powerful Sun God.
Nevertheless, Phaethon was seized
by doubt.
So, Clymene sent him
off to ask Helios directly.
Walking eastward, Phaethon entered
the Sun God’s gleaming palace at last.
Once his eyes adjusted to the brightness,
he saw Helios’ radiant smile
and open arms.
When Phaethon expressed his skepticism
that Helios was truly his father,
the Sun God only beamed.
To dispel all doubt, he would grant
Phaethon anything he wanted.
Basking in Helios’ glow,
Phaethon felt there was but one way
to prove their connection to the world—
and himself.
He needed to drive
Helios’ chariot for a day.
The Sun God’s smile dimmed.
In his daily journey,
he steered his fire-breathing horses
through space at top speeds.
The task required masterful control
to ensure that the chariot raced
along its precise celestial trajectory,
with a thin margin separating stability
from catastrophe.
Even Zeus wasn’t confident
in driving his chariot.
Helios begged his son to reconsider,
but Phaethon was steadfast,
so the god prepared him for the journey.
With a crack of the reins, he was off.
In flight, Phaethon’s
mortal insecurities fell away.
But soon, the reins slackened
in his hands.
Unaccustomed to the feathery weight
of a mortal,
the radiant horses climbed
higher and higher.
The chariot whirled past constellations,
narrowly missing the pincers of Scorpio
and the arrow of Sagittarius.
With the Sun so far away,
the Earth darkened,
and the seas began to crackle and freeze.
Startled, Phaethon
sharply pulled the reins.
The horses lurched and the chariot plunged
towards the Earth's surface.
Lakes boiled and forests burned as
Phaethon struggled to pull the chariot up,
leaving deserts in his wake.
Back on Mount Olympus,
the Gods were panicking.
Zeus saw that Phaethon was destined for
a crash that would set the Earth ablaze.
So, he hurled one of his mighty
thunderbolts at the boy.
The horses tore away,
leaving Phaethon suspended in the heavens
for just one moment,
before he plummeted to the Earth,
into the river Eridanus,
never to resurface.
Phaethon’s sisters gathered
on the riverbank to weep,
gradually metamorphosing into poplar trees
that leaked precious amber into the water.
Zeus repaired the Earth
and created an everlasting memorial,
strewing Phaethon’s likeness in the stars.
Overcome by grief, Helios had
hidden himself from the sky.
But he soon returned,
and every day from then on,
as he raced through the heavens,
he greeted his son.
The constellation,
known as “Auriga,” or “the charioteer,”
stands as a reminder of a lost young man,
and his bid to harness powers
far greater than himself.
