And Prometheus could not bear to see the clay mortals he had created living such a sorrowful life, one without warmth. So he grasped and crept and crawled up doing the secret path to Olympus - to the home of the Gods - and stole their precious fire. It burned within hum as he carried it back down to Earth, and the Gods declared a swift and painful vengeance. Is this the pain of unearthing Truth? Is this the price of Ascension?