The Minotaur

A monster revered across time and space, a man with the head of a bull. He was brought into this world by his mother Pasiphaë, simply a result of a curse. Though he was born to be a punishment, he was well-loved by his mother. She saw in him what no one else did – a reason for his existence, though she could not place what it might be. She named him Asterion. The one who comes from the stars. 

Though Pasiphaë loved her son, she could not protect him from the cold and unfeeling world that lay outside her bedroom. Asterion was born in a room with no windows, to a mother who knew he could not be loved by anyone else, and so bore him in solitude. She cradled the baby, the calf, her calf. And finally, she called her husband in. 

Minos entered, first relieved to see his healthy wife and son, but soon he turned rotten when he saw what Pasiphaë held wrapped in her arms. He lifted the baby out of the blanket, staring alarmedly at the child. Body of a human, head of a bull. This is how Asterion would come to be known. Though his mother chose his name so thoughtfully and deliberately, he would only be known as the Minotaur. 

Minos brought his son – no, not his. That damn cow’s. Minos carried the son of his wife and the Cretan Bull through the halls of the castle, carefully holding the baby at an arms’ length so as not to be bitten. The child had not shown one inkling of evil, but still, Minos did not trust this freak of nature. He believed the child to be a man-eating monster, and so he would be treated as such. 

Finally arriving at his destination, Minos rapped at the door of the great craftsman Daedalus. No answer, of course. It was late, so late no one else in the kingdom would be awake. Still, Minos pounded at the door, harder and harder until he thought he would splinter the wood with the force of his fist. Finally, Daedalus shuffled to the entryway. 

“What? What could you possibly –” He stopped himself, his words catching in his throat as he noticed the bundle wriggling in Minos’s arms. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“I can’t say for sure. All I know is that it can’t be human. We must lock it away, immediately. It will endanger the lives of our people.” 

“How can you know? He was only born a moment ago. Should we not give him the chance to show his true nature?” 

“No, by then it will be too late.” 

And so Daedalus began the plans for the most intricate prison the world would ever see - The Labyrinth. A mass of intertwining tunnels beneath the castle, a maze so confusing no one would ever find their way out. Not even Asterion. Not even Daedalus himself.

Pasiphaë begged Minos not to lock her son away, but he could not be convinced. Ground was broken on the Labyrinth the next morning, and by nightfall, the center chamber which would hold Asterion captive for the rest of his days was complete. Pasiphae kissed the boy on his forehead one final time before he was ripped from her arms and placed in the chamber. As the doors closed, his eyes caught their last light of the stars for which he was named. Then, the lock clicked, and for Pasiphaë, too, the stars seemed to dim.