In Thebes, a city in Greece, there lived a general named Amphitryon and his wife Alcmene, said to be the most beautiful woman in all the land. One day, Amphitryon had to leave for war. And in those same days, Zeus, the king of the gods, looked down from Olympus, saw Alcmene, and fell in love with her.

Zeus took the form of Amphitryon and visited Alcmene, who believed her own husband had come home from the war. That night, Zeus made time pass slowly, as if the hours had forgotten how to run. When the real Amphitryon returned, he too stayed with his wife. And so something very rare happened: Alcmene was expecting twins with different fathers. One baby would be the son of Zeus, a demigod with divine strength. The other would be the son of Amphitryon, a human boy like any other.

Hera, the wife of Zeus, was furious when she found out. It was one more betrayal by her husband, one more child that was not hers.

"This baby will suffer all his life," Hera swore. "He will pay for his father's wrongs."

When the time came, two boys were born: Heracles, son of Zeus, and Iphicles, son of Amphitryon. Alcmene knew that Hera would try to harm Heracles, so she laid both babies in one plain cradle, hoping the goddess would not know which was which. But Hera found out.

One night, when the babies were only eight months old, Hera sent two giant serpents into the children's room. The serpents slid in silently, climbed into the cradle, and opened their mouths full of venomous fangs.

Iphicles woke first, saw the serpents, and cried out in fear. Alcmene and Amphitryon ran to the room. When they arrived, they saw something they could hardly believe.

Heracles, the eight-month-old baby, was smiling. In each chubby little hand he held a serpent by the neck. The two creatures, each as long as a grown man, thrashed to break free. But Heracles, laughing as if it were a game, squeezed. The serpents' bones snapped, and they died in the baby's hands.

"By all the gods," whispered Amphitryon. "This boy is no ordinary human."

Alcmene hugged her sons in relief. Iphicles cried in fright, while Heracles played with the dead serpents as if they were toys.

Heracles grew, and his strength grew with him. At five, he accidentally broke his music teacher's lyre, snapping the instrument as if it were a twig. At ten, he killed with his bare hands a lion that had been attacking the flocks. At fifteen, he was already bigger and stronger than any grown man.

Amphitryon hired the finest tutors: Linus for music, Eumolpus for singing, Castor for wrestling. But Heracles had a serious problem: he did not know how to measure his own strength. One day, when Linus struck him with a rod to discipline him, the boy reacted on instinct and, without meaning to, killed his teacher with a single blow.

"He is dangerous," some Thebans said. "Too strong to live among us."

But Heracles was not wicked. His heart was good. He only needed to learn control.

When he became a man, Heracles turned into a true hero. He defended Thebes from invaders, fought bandits, and protected the weak. The king of the city, Creon, was so grateful that he gave Heracles his own daughter, Megara, in marriage.

Heracles and Megara fell in love and had three strong, beautiful boys. For years, Heracles was happy. He had a wife he loved, wonderful children, and the respect of the people. It seemed that, at last, he would find peace.

But on Olympus, Hera watched with a rage that only grew.

"Happy?" the goddess murmured. "He does not deserve to be happy. He is the child of Zeus's betrayal. I will destroy his joy."

One night, Hera sent Madness, an evil spirit, into the mind of Heracles. He was at home when it struck him. Suddenly his sight went dark and his thoughts twisted. He no longer saw his own house, or his own family. In his madness, Heracles believed he stood on a battlefield, and that his sons were enemies coming to attack him.

"Megara! Protect the children!" she cried, seeing her husband's wild, empty eyes.

But it was too late. Lost in the madness, Heracles attacked his own family. The terrible strength that had always protected the innocent destroyed, that night, the ones he loved most.

When the Madness finally passed, Heracles woke as if from a nightmare. And he saw what he had done. Megara and the three boys were dead, and they had died by his own hands.

Heracles let out a cry of grief so great that it echoed through all of Thebes. He fell to his knees, weeping tears that would not end. He no longer wanted to live. He even took up his sword to end his own life.

But his friend Theseus, the same hero who would one day face the Minotaur, arrived in time and stopped him.

"Heracles, it was not your fault. It was Hera. It was madness sent by the gods."

"It does not matter," Heracles sobbed. "These were my hands. This was my strength. I am a monster."

"You are not a monster," said Theseus firmly. "Monsters feel no remorse. You are broken because your heart is good. Now you must seek purification."

Theseus took Heracles to Delphi, home of the Oracle, the priestess who spoke in the name of the god Apollo.

At Delphi, Heracles knelt before the Oracle.

"How can I redeem myself?" he asked through his tears. "How can I pay for so terrible a crime?"

The Pythia fell into a trance, and the voice of Apollo spoke through her. Heracles must seek out Eurystheus, king of Tiryns, and serve him for twelve years as a slave. He must complete twelve labors that no man could complete. Only then would his soul be purified, and only then would he deserve forgiveness. And when the last labor was done, he would become immortal among the gods.

Twelve labors. Twelve years of servitude. Heracles accepted at once.

"I will do a hundred labors if I must! Anything to redeem myself."

So Heracles traveled to Tiryns, where his cousin Eurystheus reigned, a weak and fearful man. There was an old irony in that story: Eurystheus should have been born after Heracles, but Hera delayed one birth and hurried the other, and so, by law, it was Eurystheus who became king. Now the strongest man in the world would have to obey a coward.

When Eurystheus saw Heracles before him, enormous and steady-eyed, he felt afraid.

"You... you have come to serve me?" he stammered.

"Yes," Heracles answered in a deep voice. "The Oracle has commanded it. Give me the twelve labors. I will complete every one, however impossible it seems."

Eurystheus smiled a wicked smile. Hera had already told him Heracles would come, and she herself had suggested the deadliest tasks there were.

"Very well," said the king. "Your first labor will be to slay the Nemean Lion."

Heracles left Tiryns with iron determination. He had no wife now, no children, no joy. All that remained to him was his guilt and one chance at redemption.

"I will complete the Twelve Labors," he swore. "Not for glory, and not for fame. But to honor Megara and my sons, and to prove that I can use my strength for good."

And so began the most famous journey in Greek mythology: the Twelve Labors of Heracles. Each labor would be impossible, and each would test not only his strength but his courage, his cleverness, and his character. Heracles, though, was ready. Because now he had something more powerful than divine strength: he had a purpose.