“I will ask again. Are you certain about this?” Despite Clotho’s cautionary tone, her eyes shone with the eager spark of a mad scientist. “Speak now, child.”
Medusa hesitated, suddenly unsure. In five days, she'd be facing Athena’s contender. With no way to measure her growth against a powerful blood-carrier, she had sought out the Moirai and blurted a desperate request.
“Speak now.” Clotho pressed as they resumed their descent down steps illuminated with dim yellow orbs.
“I’m certain,” Medusa said before her courage failed her. Then she quickly added. “You promise it won't kill me.” Since it worked with the bee, this wouldn’t be dangerous, right?
“Now, why would I kill my sharpest weapon?”
Medusa raised her brow at 'weapon’, then let it wash off her. Lately, she wasn't as thin-skinned about insults. Suffering under Lysander's pride-crushing jabs had cured her of that softness.
They entered an abandoned armoury. Clotho crossed to the opposite wall, touched it, and murmured in Theos Tongue. The weapons vanished, and in their place stood a single door pulsing with otherworldly light. She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Unsurprisingly, it revealed a swirling dark portal.
“After you.” She canted her head, usually sleepy eyes now bright with anticipation.
Medusa gulped, misgiving flooding where desperation once filled. “Aren’t we moving too fast?”
“Too fast?” Clotho released a short burst of laughter and shook her head. “It’s been hundreds of years since anyone submitted their bodies to my expert fingers.”
Medusa shivered. “Submitted their bodies? I did not—”
“Go on. Get in,” Clotho urged.
I may have made a mistake. “Shouldn’t we tell Ares first—“
“Forget about Ares. We’ll be back before he returns tonight anyway.”
So Ares wasn’t in his domain. Still, this was… She took a tentative step back.
“I promised not to kill you, no?”
“Yes, you did, but—”
“Now get in.” Clotho grabbed her hand and pulled her into the portal.
The travel was faster this time. After what felt like a long forward step, she stumbled into a familiar place. Clotho’s domain.
“This…” Medusa whipped around. How had they moved so fast, and with a single door?
“Come.” Clotho carelessly tossed her cloak on a nearby recliner and strolled to the door at the far end of the hall. “You mentioned poisons, no?”
“I… Yes,” she managed to say, still reeling. Everything looked the same. The domed night sky holds twinkling constellations and floating, demolished pillars. Same towering shelves packed with scrolls, bound text, slabs and oddities.
“Where did you get all these?”
“Here and there,” Clotho said, tone casual. “Before the South consumed Cosmolith, recorded knowledge was abundant. These were obtained from kingdoms scattered across every continent, but most came from Lithyra. Warmongering aside, Lithyrians were at the pinnacle of human development and innovation; they were also excellent record keepers. Then things shot through the roof when Prometheus found the Monolith and threw in aether manipulation.”
Her heart squeezed at the mention of his name, but the pain and memories were easier to bear now. Rest in peace, my wicked husband. When I die, I'll find you and nag you to a second death.
“Zeus came and did what he did,” Clotho added dryly. “I managed to scavenge all I could before the sweeping.”
“The sweeping?” Medusa had never heard or read about such a thing.
“Think of it as a purification of sorts. Knowledge, innovation, traditions, religion… According to Zeus, absolute control in these areas was non-negotiable. He targeted scholars, scribes, village chiefs, shrines, temples. War after war. Cleansing after Cleansing.” Her steps slowed as her gaze grew vacant.
“He wiped out all that negated his crafted origin story. Even now, the sweeping continues because humanity never learns. They keep pursuing knowledge and creating gods.” She tapped her temple. “Drives him mad.”
“I see.” Medusa’s gaze travelled to the lab to her right. Some equipment were easy to recognise because of her time on Earth, while other pieces were odd. She took in the tall shelves with new eyes, mind racing with possibilities. Then a thought came unbidden. Akrivi would go wild with these—
“And here we are.” Clotho pushed against the iron door. A click, then it swung open, revealing an odd room.
Evenly cut grass carpeted the floor, the ceiling emitted clinical white light dense with enhanced aether, and the strangest of all was the white tree growing from the middle of the room. Smooth-barked, etched with runes and stunted, no leaf clung to its barren branches. Even more curious were its roots; equally white, they pushed out of the ground in creaking angular curves.
“What sort of tree is that?” The memory of murderous hyades flying at her was still fresh in her mind. She had had her fill of moving trees.
“An assistant,” Clotho answered distractedly. She was standing before an open cabinet with her hands held at her back. “You can sit on it.”
The runes pulsed with a dull green light as the tree twisted into a seat, its branches spreading like broken fingers.
“It’s called a weaver tree. One of the more brilliant modifications of the titans. You can trust it with your bum.”
Medusa sat carefully, resisting the urge to squirm as its branches formed armrests.
The Moirai began retrieving items from the cabinet. Several small beakers, glass syringes with brass plungers, droppers, a tray, scalpels, sealed jars holding clear liquids and a large ceramic bowl lined with tiny runic scribbles. As she tossed the items over her shoulder, the tree's branches moved, catching each and neatly arranging them on a table formed by its roots.
Despite the marvel of the weaver tree, a single question blared in Medusa’s head: What's with the intense surgical instruments? She had simply asked for poisons, something to replicate what she achieved with the bee venom.
As Clotho walked over, the table moved too, and when she sat, the roots already had a stool waiting. In her arms were three gleaming vials.
“Are those the poisons?”
“Obviously.” That mad scientist glimmer was back.
“I asked for an upgrade for the bee venom. You never said a word about cutting me open.”
Clotho cocked her head as she observed Medusa. “But I mentioned the possibility of modifying your body to accommodate the venom.”
You were vague! Medusa crushed the urge to yell. In truth, a terrible curiosity was awakening in her. The vials, gleaming with deadly promise, called to the baser part of herself. Ah, this is bad. In just two weeks of training in her gorgon form, the way she observed her opponent, moved, and attacked was changing. Even her thinking pattern was shifting, and the worst part was how natural it all felt. Like that was her true nature—
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“These venoms have been preserved with aether for centuries.” Clotho’s words cut through her thoughts. “And unlike the queen bee you ingested, these cannot be handled lightly. Do not worry. My hands are steady, and you will be awake all through the procedure.”
“I see…” The vials still called to her, promising possibilities and smashing every hesitation to dust. “Can you tell me about them?”
“Very well.” Holding the first vial against the light, Clotho shook it. A pea-sized fang tumbled in the amber liquid. “This was gotten from a green cave hydra. Shorter than my forearm, but their bite…” She sucked her teeth and shook her head. “It mirrors pain using nerve paths, and the effects multiply with each breath. Ruptured blood vessels, hallucinations, then cardiac arrest handles the rest within a horai or less. Best for torture.”
Her gorgon form pushed eagerly beneath her skin, its excitement infectious. Where else could she find such a poison, and for free? I should be thanking Clotho. She was beginning to understand why Ares and the rest treated her with reverence.
“She's like a fairy godmother,” she whispered in English.
“What did you say?” Clotho raised a brow.
Medusa smiled, and it was genuine. “Nothing.”
Glass clicked against glass as Clotho lifted the second vial. “Snow chimera venom.” The poison was cool blue. A shrunken serpent head floated in its middle, black-scaled with exposed bone-white fangs. “Think of it as a deadlier version of your bee venom. Quick setting effect that shows all the symptoms of frostbite, only this time, its acceleration is tenfold. Can kill a horse in less than five meros.”
Less than five minutes! Medusa’s deadliest venom killed in fifteen minutes, and it was basic haemorrhaging. She whispered an awestruck, “Wow.”
The last vial held blood-red liquid, and as she swirled it, what resembled a blackened tentacle appeared and vanished almost as fast. “One-eyed river squid.”
“I know that one!” Medusa perked up, feeling relief at finally recognising something. It was the only squid with red instead of blue blood, and its ink was widely used to dye hair. “But I don't understand. Aren’t they harmless?”
“Yes, they are.” Clotho arranged the vials in a straight line. “Do you know its other name?”
Medusa parroted what she remembered. “Those from the Six Islands call them rock huggers, and locals eat them.” The text mentioned how the squids were best prepared over a bed of steaming hot rocks.
Clotho made a face. “Nonsense. One-eyed river squids taste awful and are only fished for their ink. But,” a smug smile curved her lips, “they’re called rock huggers because they literally do that. They hug rocks.”
“And?” Medusa asked, impatient. She was expecting a third poison, not this.
“The blood of female squids.” Clotho tapped the back of her nail against the red vial. “It has magnetic qualities that manifest during its mating season. With the right weapon and its right application, combat can get quite interesting.”
“I…” She tried and failed to make sense of the picture the Moirai painted. “I don't understand.”
“It's a bonus anyway.” Clotho waved as if the matter were settled.
“Are anti-venoms available? Can they kill blood carriers?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Excellent.” Medusa clapped. She suspected Athena’s contender would show no mercy, so she had no intention of playing fair. If they prove too difficult to defeat, I'll stab their eyes with poison. “Can I have them all?”
“Of course you can have them.”
“Thank you.” Medusa grabbed Clotho’s hand, gratitude rising from the depths of her soul. “Really, thank you.”
“It's nothing, child.” She patted the back of her hand. Then, still wearing a warm smile, she said something ridiculous.
Medusa withdrew her hands, unsure if she heard correctly. “What did you say?”
“Shift to your gorgon form,” Clotho calmly repeated.
I should have known it was too good to be true. But her curse didn't see it that way; it was practically pushing beneath her skin, eager to comply.
“No need to be stubborn. You must have already realised that your gorgon form is more durable than your cloak of mortality.”
Medusa winced as if slapped. Cloak of mortality? Are you implying I’m like them? Wearing the face of mortals to kill and pillage? Is that—
No. She slammed a lid over her raging thoughts, forcing them to cool. Clotho was right. It was perfectly logical to possess some form of immortality if she planned to face the gods. That does not mean I’m like them.
“Fine. I’ll shift.”
Clotho’s brow climbed up, appearing surprised at Medusa's quick decision.
A thought triggered the change. Apart from a brief dull ache when her bones stretched, there was no pain. The now familiar weight returned. Some brushed against her cheek while others slid over her neck and shoulders. They moved more slowly; no hissing. Calm because she was calm.
Save for the mild curiosity, Clotho’s expression hardly changed. Not even an eyebrow twitch. “Hmm.” She drew closer. “Can you keep them from biting? How do they feel?”
“Like fingers… or tails.” Now that she thought of it, she had never had a reason to explain what it felt like to have a full head of snakes. She hoped her answer made sense. “I can control them to an extent.”
When Clotho gave her snakes a pointed look, Medusa quickly added, “I can keep them from biting too.”
“Good.” Eyes narrowing, Clotho took a closer look at the snakes. “I have never seen these species before.”
Medusa understood her confusion. Her sisters’ snakes were uniform in appearance, while hers were a mix of black and green-coloured species she had never seen on Cosmolith or Earth.
“And you say they’re twelve?”
“Yes.”
“From what I counted, they’re thirteen.”
“Huh?” Medusa buried her hands in her hair and counted. Then she found it, a new serpent growing from the base of her neck. “How?”
“I should be asking you that.”
Clotho spoke a line in Theos Tongue, and a branch retrieved one of the beakers and passed it. When Medusa looked more closely, she noticed the membranous film stretched over its rim.
“I’ll be extracting your venom to test their potency against those two,” Clotho calmly explained. “Tell me if it hurts.”
When she gently held one of the snakes, Medusa suppressed the others' reflex to strike. She sensed it when its fangs pierced the film and poured venom.
Tapping a clawed finger on the armrest, Medusa gave in to the urge to fill the silence. “Perseus was the only person who had touched them.”
“That’s a pity,” Clotho muttered. In her hand was a beaker holding freshly extracted venom; she used a needle to write a line across the glass before casually passing it to a waiting branch.
Clotho reached for another snake. “And I don’t suppose he touched them to pet them.”
First, there was silence, then Medusa burst into laughter. She'd never imagined a world where she could laugh about those horrifying moments of her life. It was a strange relief, how neither Ares nor Clotho flinched at her gorgon form.
“No,” Medusa finally managed to say. “He didn’t touch them to pet them.”
“His loss.”
As the process continued, Clotho asked about her progress with creating a domain. All attempts to learn Theos Tongue were futile so far, so progress in that area was non-existent. If she could bring Akrivi to her side, the portal part of her plan may work. Who am I kidding? The one time she dared to ask Ares to help Akrivi and Lonian, he had flatly instructed her to focus on training.
“Do not despair. Theos Tongue will naturally come to you.”
That same line, but it did nothing to comfort her. The key was silent, her training with Lysander and Ares always ended in crushing defeat, and she couldn't even learn that stupid Theos Tongue when learning languages came naturally in all her lives. At least I have this form—
As if that helps. It wasn't like she could face Athena’s contender as a gorgon.
“Some produced venom more than others,” Clotho said after milking the last snake.
Discarding her worries, Medusa took in the neatly lined beakers. Most were clear coloured, one was white, and another was yellow. She had never bitten a human since all turned to stone before they could reach her, but the case was different with beasts. Sarpedon was overrun with them, and once in a while, one would prowl into her cave and think to turn it to their territory.
“I'll begin testing their potency.” Another line in Theos Tongue and the weaver tree brought thirteen petri dishes holding tiny green globs that moved like water.
“Swamp slimes,” Clotho explained. “They can hold aether and are deadly enough to kill blood-carriers when used in… certain ways.”
Clotho proceeded to draw and drop venom on each slime. The reaction ranged from catastrophic to mostly unharmed. In fact, nine slimes remained intact.
A frown wrinkled Medusa’s brow. That couldn't be right.
“Four hold venom. And of the four, only one is close to the level of those.” She nodded at the three vials. “Interestingly, the new snake at your nape holds the bee venom.”
Medusa perked up, strangely excited. One of her serpents curled around her arm when she reached for the nape of her neck. “How is that possible?”
“Hmmm.” Clotho poked a stiffened slime with the tip of the dropper. “It seems your body modified itself without help… which gives me an idea.” Her eyes went distant, then refocused with sudden brightness. “Child, I just had a marvellous idea. Willing to take a risk?”
I felt like my head was upside down while editing this chapter. Super rough week. If you see errors or wonky sentences, let me know.
Would have dropped a chapter on Sunday, but I discarded it at the last moment. Over 3k words (be still my weeping heart). No matter how I looked at it, the words weren't wording like I wanted them to word. Maybe I judged it too harshly, I donno.
Anyhoo, until next this Saturday.
You're the protagonist. Which poison will you use against the villain?
