Enter the god Hermes in full divine regalia.
Hermes:
[The chains of the past continues to chain us in our present  —
you can’t escape it.]
Or maybe I should that service runs in the family?

Let me illustrate:]
It all started with my grandfather, Atlas:
[In the revolution, he fought against his brother Titans
side by side with the gods
As his reward, he’s now chained underneath them –
his warrior’s back, strong as bronze,
constantly worn down by his labor
supporting the crushing weight of the gods’ ancient sky-palace.

So next in line, my grandmother
–a goddess who doesn’t even merit a name so much as a function—
was bound to serve Atlas’ needs and as the fruits of that labour,
went into labor with Maia.

My mother.

Who was in turn was serviced by Zeus on high.

With all that labor upon labor finally resulting in me:
Hermes  – the gods’ errand boy.
At your service!

(Hermes gestures to the temple behind him — the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi.)
And the tangled chains of past service have pulled me here – to Delphi:
To the very navel of Gaia’s womb,
the stone at the center of the world — the omphalos.

(points at the door and temple steps) In there, nestled deep in a circular hollow lies
(quoting in a pretentious voice)

Apollo Phoebus  – the pure light –

From his tripod throne, he sings out prophecies:

for mortals, the rhythms of his cryptic verses reveal

all that is and

all that will be.

[But of things that have come before,
You know — tales of lineage, service, and sacrifice, well…
I am the one who has the dirt.]

Our story starts with another city
Named after its patron god Pallas Athena
– you probably know the place; every Greek knows the name –

Picture it:
The tall, fortified hill – the Acropolis– looming behind you
From far off, you might see
the tip of Athena’s golden spear, shining — just visible
This was during the reign of king Erechtheus.
He had a daughter — Kreousa.

[You can see her too, if you look]
There (pointing) on the windblown side of the Acropolis…
You can just make out a shallow cave, tucked away inside the tall cliffs
— the Athenians lords call them the long rocks or ‘Makrai’–

She shelters there for the night,
performing the Arrhephoria ritual—a virgin’s duty to guard
that casket full of secrets which are not to be revealed. So, she was all alone.]
And it was there, in that cave
that Phoebus the pure gave her a wedding night [she wouldn’t soon forget.]
No. That is not fair to her.
Let’s be clear — he took what he wanted by force.

Time passed. Nine months to be precise.
Even as her stomach grew heavier her father, the king, failed to notice
– unbelievable, I know, but it is an important part of the god’s plan–
[And when the time came…]
She gave birth in some dark corner of the palace, all alone.
[Where was she supposed to go? Who would have believed her?]
So she took the child back. There.
To the cave. To her sad, profane bridal chamber.

And there… she left her newborn defenseless against animals and the elements.
Exposure, we call it.
In theory this left his tiny life in the hands of the gods,
[one god… perhaps…] After all, they could save him if they wanted.
But she knew in her heart
that she was leaving him to his death
[But what other choice did this unmarried girl have?]

She starts to walk away but…
turns back, stuck in place.
She tucks the child in again, makes him comfortable.
She stares down at him for a long time…
He was sleeping so innocently, nestled deep in his circular hollow.

Then she does something curious.
She removes a golden snake amulet from her neck and puts it in his crib.
The curious part is why she did this for a child she thought would die.
The snake amulet itself goes all the way back to that primordial king of Athens:
King Erichthonius, born from the earth itself.

Wait… You don’t know the myth? Well, pay attention,
because this is important for what comes next:
(clears throat)

So once upon a time
A baby Erichthonius was born straight from the earth 
— don’t worry about how —
And Zeus’ daughter Athena was appointed to be his surrogate mother.
Only Athena isn’t exactly the maternal type, so…
First, she wrapped the baby in twinned earth guardians
— snakes, that is– to protect him.
And she sealed him, snakes and all, in a casket.
Giving it all to the princesses Aglauros and her sisters to take care of.
They were the daughters of the ruler at that point,
the half-man, half-snake King Kekrops
(the snake thing is probably just a coincidence).
[Anyway, you know the rest of the story —
the lives of these princesses might have been preserved if
they had just obeyed Athena’s instructions and never opened the sealed basket.]

[But here is how the past continues to chain the present…
The princesses’ fatal mistake and their deaths are forever honored, their actions never repeated,
by the royal virgins who recreate their story. Each year they carry a secret casket into a cave
in their yearly Arrephoria vigil but never open it.
If you are paying attention, this is the very same ritual which took Kreousa to her unfortunate fate.]
It’s all connected, you see.

Ever since, the royal line of Erechtheus has also mimicked Athena’s actions and
at birth, give their children a protective amulet of golden snakes
passing it from mother to child.

Back to poor Kreousa though…
Our young maiden mother – no more than 13– stared at the tiny precious thing,
so dear to her.
Frozen. Then she placed her amulet on the child
[The very one her mother had put on her and her mother in turn]
and left.

Abandoning him to what she knew was an all but certain death:
She left him, imagining that he would be a grisly feast for scavenger birds
torn apart by their bloody talons.