It's good to see you again, my frined.
Today I have someone special to tell you about.
Come closer.
No, closer than that.
Because this one isn't shouted. It's whispered. Like truth usually is, before someone carves it in stone.
Have you ever felt something was unfair---but you couldn't say why? Before someone told you the rules, before anyone punished the wrongdoer... you knew. That knowing? That weight behind the ribs, that invisible scale inside your chest?
That's her.
Themis.
Last time, we stood in the still light of my aunt Phoebe. She watched the future quietly, radiantly. But Themis? Themis didn't just see what was coming---she spoke it. Measured it. Named it.
Not for power. Not for glory.
For balance.
And it changed everything.
She was there before Olympus had a throne. Before any god swore any oath. Before anyone even said the word "justice"---because she was the reason we needed that word at all.
And when she spoke... even Zeus listened.
Themis didn't wield lightning or storm. She didn't shapeshift. She didn't carry a spear or throw mountains into the sea.
But when she stepped into a room---everyone stood straighter.
She was the Titaness of divine law.
Not the kind scratched into bronze or shouted in courtrooms. No. Her law was older. Rooted in the breath of the world. Cosmic order, moral rhythm, instinctive rightness.
She governed the seasons. The turning of the year, the dance between chaos and calm. She held marriage as sacred---because it was a promise, and Themis was all about keeping promises. She knew that every vow had weight. That breaking it tore the fabric of the world just a little.
She stood between gods and mortals as a bridge. She wasn't neutral---she was necessary. You couldn't build a kingdom, or a relationship, or even a conversation... without her presence.
They say she was blindfolded. But don't let that fool you. She saw. She saw beyond appearances---into patterns, motivations, outcomes. The blindfold wasn't about blindness. It was about focus. She didn't judge based on faces. She judged based on balance.
Her powers weren't flashy. But they were inescapable.
And the more you ignored her?
The louder the world shook.
She was born of Gaia and Uranus---Earth and Sky. Which meant, of course, she held both the grounding of stone and the wide gaze of stars.
As the world took shape, so did its need for limits. Not walls---boundaries. Not chains---agreements. Themis watched the chaos swirl, and stepped into the center of it with calm.
She wasn't loud. She didn't need to be.
When the Titans ruled, she kept their arguments from turning to blood. When Zeus rose to power, she didn't fight him. She raised him. Fed him wisdom instead of war. Let him grow into a ruler---not just a conqueror.
It was Themis who taught him how to host councils. How to listen. How to rule with more than thunder.
And then... Delphi.
You remember how Phoebe passed it on? The sacred place of prophecy?
Themis held it first.
She spoke truth from that stone before any mortal dared to listen. And when the time came, she passed it to Phoebe. No argument. No ceremony. Just grace. That's how power should pass hands.
She bore daughters---the Horae, who shaped the seasons, and the Moirai---the Fates. Yes, those Fates. Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos. Thread, measure, and cut.
Themis didn't just shape law.
She shaped time.
Before we go on, let's take a moment to thank our sponsor---one that Themis herself might've slipped onto your finger if she thought you needed reminding.
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Now, back to the story.
Mortals often get her wrong.
They picture Themis as cold. Remote. A statue with a blindfold and scales. But I remember her eyes. Clear. Soft, sometimes. Fierce, when needed.
She wasn't cold.
She was contained.
The gods... oh, we felt her. More than we wanted to admit. When you lie to yourself, her silence gets loud. When you cross a line you swore you wouldn't? Her name rings in your bones.
Even Zeus---a king by then, a storm in every word---would glance sideways if she merely raised an eyebrow.
Hera respected her. Not because they always agreed, but because Themis didn't play games.
Athena admired her, of course. Wisdom recognizes structure.
But Ares? Ares called her "the still knife." Because you never saw her coming. And when you finally felt her, it was too late.
I once heard Dionysus---drunk on both wine and poetry---call her "the music in a heartbeat you didn't know you had." He wasn't wrong.
She didn't punish. She didn't shout. But when she walked into a room, everyone remembered their better selves.
And if they didn't?
They wouldn't forget the consequences.
I was just a girl the first time Themis looked at me and waited.
Not scolded. Not warned.
Just... waited. And I knew, without a word, that I had to decide the kind of god I wanted to be.
That was her way.
She didn't tell you what to do. She invited you to remember what you already knew.
Fairness isn't just about rules. It's about rhythm. About how we move through the world without bruising it---or each other. And harmony? Harmony isn't peace that avoids conflict. It's peace that includes it. That balances it.
Themis taught me that.
She didn't hand me scrolls. She didn't give speeches. She stood still in the mess of everything, and made space for better choices.
You could hate her for it.
Or you could love her for giving you the chance.
Sometimes I still feel her behind me, when I'm about to say too much. Or too little. A weight in the air, a breath that holds the scale.
She doesn't need to be seen to be present.
Some truths are like that.
Next time, we'll step even deeper into what shapes the gods---not thunder, not law, but memory.
Because before we can speak truth like Themis, we must remember it.
Mnemosyne is her name.
The Titan of memory. Of story. Of everything that ever happened, and everything we tried to forget.
She gave birth to the Muses.
She taught us how to make memory into music.
And trust me... she remembers everything.
Even the parts we've tried to leave out.
Themis didn't stop storms.
She made sure they passed.
She didn't promise peace. She offered balance.
And she taught us that justice isn't a sword.
It's a song that keeps the world in tune.
It was a delight to share this moment with you, until next time.
Much love.
I am, Harmonia