Medusa gawked at the tiny aether spot only to return to the present when a sharp pain blossomed at her side. In her distraction, one of the priestesses had managed an attack.
Swallowing an agonised groan, Medusa stabbed backwards, her blade aimed where a face should be. But there was a problem; in her pain and shock, she pumped too much aether into the attack.
Aether reserve now dangerously low, she ripped off her attacker and stumbled forward. Gripping her bleeding side, she spun around and brandished her dagger in blind defence. The statue she stabbed had not fallen. Though half her face was gone, she stood and glared at Medusa with one good eye.
Wheezing through clenched teeth, Medusa staggered towards the aether spot while holding up her blade. Blood poured from the wound, slid down her leg and made each step wet and sticky.
When dizziness set in, she gave her head a firm shake. “Stay back!” she spat through her harsh pants.
The statues ignored her command and continued forward, holding their daggers ready. Soon, one or all of them may attack.
Medusa hastened her steps and sagged with relief when she finally entered the spot, but her relief didn't last. As a rush of aether flowed into her reservoir, instinct told her it wouldn't be enough. Her wound was too severe. But that was fine. Now that she knew the treasure each statue held, anticipation quickened her breath.
Straightening after retrieving her dagger, she reduced the aether flow to her wound to a thin, steady stream and gritted her teeth at the answering pulse of pain. What mattered was how well she managed her aether reserve while maintaining peak speed; pouring it like she did before couldn’t work.
Deciding to go all out, Medusa shot forward. As she flung her dagger at the nearest priestess, she slashed at the arm of another rushing in from the left. As fast as she had attacked, she leapt back and noticed with sweet satisfaction that her throw had hit its mark. Now another aether spot glowed in the crumbled remains of the priestess.
Two down. Four more to go.
Seeing how fast their sisters had fallen, the others attacked in a burst of unnatural speed. But Medusa was faster, and as she moved, she grew more efficient with her aether output following each strike. It didn't help that she also knew their dagger movement well enough to predict their movement.
She ignored all the aether spots, refusing to get distracted like the first time. Each slice, stab or throw was precise. But as she slayed stone after stone, she felt it. Eyes on her. Which was strange. The door was still shut, so who was watching her?
Shaking off the disconcerting feeling, Medusa slashed at the final priestess. She was the half-faced statue who was slower than the rest, courtesy of her one eye. To sharpen her skill further, she took her time with the final priestess, testing how efficiently she could stretch what remained of her aether. When the statue became too battered to function, she stabbed her chest and watched the final aether spot wink into existence.
Dragging in a refreshing breath after taking the last aether spot, Medusa swiped an arm across her sweaty brow. Her reservoir overflowed like when she got slammed into the aether spot in her first trial.
A smile twitched the corner of her lips. This felt nice. The thought of Perseus waiting at the other side of the door wasn't so scary. With breathing, she’d turn them to dust in an instant.
Daggers held ready, Medusa turned to do just that when the orbs flickered. Tensing up, she took careful steps towards the door as she glanced behind. Nothing seemed out of place. The rubble of the fallen priestesses remained scattered about, and the only other statue—
Medusa frowned when she noticed it, but the orbs flickered again before she could take a closer look.
Darkness for a longer beat then light returned.
“That doesn’t seem right,” Medusa mumbled even as her heart began a slow throb of dread in her throat. The owl that should be seated on the goddess’ shoulder was missing, so were her spear and shield. Athena stood alone, hand poised as if still wielding her weapons.
The urge to flee flared, and just as she took a quick step back, the orbs blinked off. This time, the darkness lingered longer, and along with it came an unnatural sense of disorientation. She couldn’t make out where the door was or distinguish her left from her right. Going with her instincts, she continued to retreat, only to stop when her back hit a cool wall.
When the light returned, Medusa swallowed a scream.
Breathing. I must use breathing.
The thought blared as Medusa stared, arrested by the sight of the ten-foot aberration ahead.
The stone remains that were once priestesses had vanished, and in their place was a multiple-armed statue of Athena. Eight arms in total, all wielding polished stone daggers. Unlike the other animated statues, the statue's face remained stiff, but when she turned in Medusa’s direction, her shut eyes slid open and exposed empty sockets.
“What the—”
Twin light beams flashed from the statue's eyes and washed Medusa in a bright golden glow. As soon as the light appeared, it vanished, and in its wake was a pressing weight. Knees knocking, Medusa narrowly saved herself from falling flat on her face as gravity dialled up around her.
Hunching over, Medusa groaned as her body ached under the crushing pressure. As she struggled, blood slid over her lips and splattered against the marble floor.
Glaring at the crimson splotches, Medusa doubled her effort, shifting aether to her spine and checking to see if she could get her hands to move to her blindfold. Nothing worked. She remained stuck, unable to go for the blindfold, unable to twitch so much as her pinkie, unable to move her lips to scream, breathing.
A series of clinks and thuds followed the statue’s movement as she crouched and crawled over like some horrifying fusion of spider and human.
Raw panic bubbled over as Medusa observed the holes each step left across the floor. She had to weigh over a ton. Just how… how can I face such a thing?
The statue stopped some feet away, her empty-socket focus still fixed on Medusa. Was she waiting for something?
Beyond desperate, Medusa poured even more effort into resisting the pressure. The taste of blood flooded her mouth as she pushed aether out and struggled to form a layer above her skin.
Crack.
The statue flinched at the same time its eyelids slid close. Her face remained turned towards Medusa.
Sensing a little give after the crack, Medusa noticed she could straighten even further. Slightly relieved, she wondered how fast she could reach the door once freed from the statue's stun attack. It took her stealing a glance at the door for the statue to act. The statue flashed forward as if waiting for Medusa to take her eyes off her.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Suddenly released from her frozen state, Medusa barely formed a quick shield when the statue crashed into her.
Stone flew about as Medusa burst through the temple wall. Limbs flailing and torso twisting, she hit the courtyard. When the pain registered, it came all at once.
Though Medusa wished to shout in agony, her throat wouldn't function. She coughed up blood instead and blinked away tears as she twitched in place. Aether acted independently, flowing over her body in a warm, heady spread and mending what was broken.
A weak laugh of incredulity slipped out when she heard it. Footsteps. Those damned footsteps. Perseus and Cuauhua were coming.
But I can't die. Can't die. Won't die.
Gritting her teeth, Medusa rolled to her belly, noting with detachment the stickiness of her tunic against her back. She blinked hard to clear her vision and gather her thoughts as she pushed to her feet on shaky limbs. Ah, at least, she still held her daggers. Her fists were tightly closed around them, and the joints of her fingers felt locked.
Maybe there’s hope.
Though the feeling of aether overflowing was gone, she whispered, “Breathing.”
No effect.
Another laugh escaped as she stood, gazing at the sky with her arms swaying loosely at her side. She could sense their approach. Athena's statue was more of a feeling than something she could hear, but with Perseus and Cuauhua, she could hear their foreboding footsteps grow closer.
Sighing, Medusa looked ahead just in time to see Athena’s statue rise to full height beyond the large hole in the temple wall.
Not giving herself a moment to overthink, Medusa glared at the statue and channelled over half of her aether reserve into her dagger. After compressing aether at its tip until mirages formed, she flung the blade at the murderous abomination. “DIE!”
As the dagger whistled for its target, the statue guarded her chest, her many hands flying over the spot and forming a shield that Medusa’s blade still shot through with an explosive blast.
Shocked that the attack worked, Medusa waited for the statue to disintegrate, but nothing happened. She remained frozen like a regular statue, dust rising off the attack point.
At the sound of footsteps, Medusa peeled her focus off the statue. Perseus and Cuauhua were much closer. Her earlier fear was hardly present; all that remained was desperation. This time, she resolved to attack.
Unlike when she fled Perseus and Cuauhua earlier, she didn't carelessly direct aether to her legs. Too wasteful. Instead, she compressed it in a thin, steady stream, channelled it through bones and muscles, and shot at Perseus.
The force of his defence stunned Medusa, and he slashed sideways in the same move, aiming for her neck. She leapt away and resisted the urge to cradle her neck.
Almost. He almost got me.
Stomping the flare of panic following his attack, she shamelessly gave herself to the memory of Athena's dagger method. The only thought consuming her was crushing this fear that had held her captive for too long. And she’d do anything.
With the acceptance came ease. Each movement grew fluid as she escaped strike and after strike, despite wielding a single dagger. It was strange how every movement flowed with her aether channelling. When she leaned away, kicked or slashed, directing aether to joints or muscles made the move smoother and more effective.
Then she heard it—that snap.
Twisting away just in time, Medusa narrowly escaped an arrow to the face.
Hissing in annoyance, she shot for Cuauhua. He wasn't fast enough. In the time it took him to nock his arrow and shoot, Medusa had already changed her path and increased her speed. When she finally reached him, she plunged her dagger without allowing her heart to hesitate.
Medusa stumbled away when she spied the look on his face. Confusion, pain, shock. Seriously, her curse was insane to do this to her. As he crumbled to dust, a medium-sized aether spot appeared, hovering over the pile of his dust.
Feeling a pang of guilt, Medusa looked away only to come face-to-face with Perseus. He was mid-attack, his face contorted with a hateful scowl. Instinctively raising her arm to shield her neck, she watched his sword come down.
She was too slow. The blade cut through the feeble barrier she created and severed her arm. Medusa blinked in disbelief as blood sprayed, dying Perseus’ stone face and hers. Then he snatched her by the neck and flung her away from the aether spot.
Snapping back to reality, she rolled to a stop. Just as her pain was registering, aether acted on its own again, but instead of growing an arm, it stopped the bleeding and sealed the wound.
Awkwardly pushing to her feet, Medusa barely got a sense of balance when he flashed forward again. She raised her dagger. Though she blocked the blow, the strike was too heavy, and he leaned in. Pressing down with his crushing weight and bearing stone teeth.
“Damn you,” Medusa spat past wheezing breaths. She channelled aether to the stump that was now her left hand and hit his face.
His neck twisted at a one-eighty-degree angle and snapped back in place with a grinding sound. Nothing but a crack appeared across his cheek. That eerie smile returned. How was it that victory still managed to shine in his stone eyes?
“I’ll kill you,” Medusa whispered as fury razed every thought but that. Her arm trembled as pain flared across her back and shoulders; aether was draining fast. Soon, she would be unable to hold her position. As if aware, Perseus pressed down even more, that grin still in place.
A solution came through the fog of her fury, and even though it didn't feel like a total win, she resolved to try it.
“At least, I'll take you with me.”
Medusa let her dagger slide off his sword and released the aether holding her in place. But as her blade pierced his chest, he cut her down.
It ended too simply. No rush of aether or euphoria. No pain. Too instant. Did Perseus even die?
Medusa was floating again.
Someone was talking.
“You're taller now.” They sounded excited. A familiar voice.
She opened her eyes and frowned at the warmth of light on her skin. Someone was touching her face, cradling it.
“You.” Medusa frowned as she recognised her curse. She was beaming. “What is this?”
“I said you're taller,” she repeated as if that made sense.
“And? What does being taller have to do with—” She flinched when the curse suddenly hugged her and remained frozen after she pulled away. “What was that for?”
“I am happy!” Her curse darted to a distance and reverted to her towering height. “Look at me.”
Even more confused, Medusa's frown deepened. “Look, I’d like to go back. Take me back. There's something I need to finish.”
She had almost gotten Perseus. If she could just return—
Her curse was before her face again, still beaming. “It's working!” She clapped with an excited laugh. “I wasn't one hundred per cent sure at first, but it's working.”
Pinching her brow, Medusa bit back a groan and asked. “Speak clearly. What's working?”
“Remember what I said about you growing to my level?” There was an eager look on her face.
“Yes, I remember.”
“You're taller. It's working.” She straightened to her full height and beckoned to Medusa. “Come.”
“Huh?” A force pulled Medusa over and placed her next to her curse.
“Look, you've reached my knee.”
Not knowing how to react, Medusa said nothing. She didn't feel different, and it wasn't like she had achieved something extraordinary in the training. There was also the nagging sensation that she was yet to see the end of the many-armed statue. And there was that unfinished business with Perseus. If she could—
“Say something.” Her curse shrank to human size, appearing deflated.
“I don't know what to say. I don't feel particularly different.” She looked around the dark space. “Can I go back to training?”
Her curse sighed then beamed again. “You'll see what I mean when you return.”
“Back to the training?”
“Back to Drys Valon.” She made a face. “And I'm sorry. I think I may have overdone things to force results.”
“What did you do?” Medusa considered the training. It was intense, but she hadn’t died like the first time. Was something different this time? When her curse remained quiet, she grew more concerned. “What did you do?” she repeated.
“Ah, you’d be fine.” Her curse waved her away, but not before Medusa spotted the guilty look on her face. “Later!”
Medusa opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. She was lying on her back, bedsheet up to her chest, and ridiculously fatigued. When she looked to her side, she spotted Nestor. He was speaking to someone she didn’t recognise—a tall woman with a shaved head and stern face.
“...I worry that her mind may have broken,” the woman said. “Pulling her forcefully from the—”
“She was bleeding again. What did you want me to do? The red god will have my hide if anything happens to her.”
“But something happened to her,” the woman shot back. “It's been two days already. None of my methods have worked.”
“Try harder.”
The woman sighed, looked over, and did a double-take when she saw Medusa. “You’re awake. Finally.”
What's your favourite win-to-lose ratio in stories? (I left a poll)
My favourites are 50-50% and 80-20%, especially when the MC is overpowered and the writing is just right. I don't even mind 100% if it's written well.
Nothing infuriates me more than reading a story where the MC keeps losing and losing and losing. When the MC finally wins, I am too drained and annoyed to feel satisfied.
Anyhoo, until next Saturday.
What's your favourite win-to-lose ratio?
