"The fire you gave man is extinguished. He failed to keep its flame burning, failed to protect it. He took it for granted, and none would be its keeper.
"There is no fire!"
Prometheus lay down the great log, breathed deeply.
"I took from Vulcan's furnace, from the hottest flames, the heart of fire. I gave it to man for his care and nurture, to protect him from the creatures of the wild. I gave it to him to protect him from the night, and those things that creep in the darkness. And now he has let it die? What fools are these mortals, to disdain a such a gift?"
"Man grows lazy and irresponsible. He thinks all things come to him with no effort on his part. He values little those gifts that he receives. At last he knows, now, what he has lost."
"In my own hand I carried the fiery coals. Look!"
He thrust out the palms of both hands, and Demo stared in the dawning light of morning at the charred and blackened skin.
"Vulcan will not so easily be fooled again! Yet," Prometheus mused, looking at Demo, "Perhaps it can be done."
Demo frowned. No more was Prometheus leaning on him to take the lead.
"You have access to Olympus. Zeus has given you the key, for you seem to be a favorite of his. And once on Olympus, you have access to Vulcan. You could prepare the way for me, distract Vulcan, and I could once more draw fire from that deadly furnace. Let us plan together."