It was silent in the coach, with Akrivi sitting across from Medusa and staring a hole into the side of her head. It seemed he was itching to say something since they left Ares’ villa. Two portal bridges into their journey, and he has yet to spit it out. Good thing she preferred silence.
Ares’ villa was so expansive that they hadn’t crossed paths since the trial. When they finally met this morning, Medusa had been too much in her head to notice any attempts to start a conversation. Today, she’d be standing before Zeus, something that never occurred in her first life. Granted, she had seen him from afar on her first day in Olympus, but that hardly counted. Now she would be in his presence, in his focus.
This isn’t a matter of psyching myself. I must stick to every bit of the plan, give my all, or he’ll sniff the truth.
Still, why did it feel like there was something significant Clotho wasn't telling her? In Ares' study, after telling her what she must do, the Moirai held her shoulder, muttered some incomprehensible words, then her form wavered before vanishing. She had appeared drained, just like her father on the day they parted. Not a word since then. Was she alright?
Sighing, she pulled at the snug collar of her high-neck bodysuit. The flexible armour was made from Lernaean Hydra leather, breathable and flared with an added layer of aether shield. The badge she got from the trial had been pinned over her chest. When she looked in the mirror, she liked what she saw.
Lysander had twisted her hair into a sleek bun, then there was the dark eye makeup and lip stain. She looked mean, but that was fine. Better to wear a mean face when interacting with Athena for the first time in this life.
“Win this,” Lysander had said after escorting her to the coach. “I heard high god Zeus will be present. Do master Ares proud.” Appearing conflicted, she glanced around before leaning in. “The high god… he—”
She had stopped talking when Ares appeared.
“Do not fill her head with needless worries,” he said before patting Medusa’s shoulder. “Remember what you were told, but try not to overdo it.”
Overdo it? Medusa had chuffed on the inside. Be sure I will overdo it. She thought her hatred had cooled, that she wouldn’t go for them if they didn’t come for her, but that was naivety. Weakness.
Always go for your enemies before they come for you.
When she thought of Antonii, chained like that, or of her first life, treated like nothing but a tool, her thoughts became clearer, more streamlined. She has not done enough. But that was okay. Today was one of many steps forward.
Medusa stared out the window and absently petted Rico. He was now twice his size, a warm, adorable lump sleeping on her thighs. Clotho said he would sleep a lot during this period, since his growth spurt had started. As large as a spotted mountain bear, huh? She could hardly wait.
At last, Akrivi broke the silence. “Is that your pet?” His voice was tentative, very unlike him. “I've seen one before. The same collar and all, but smaller. They call it a Rico.”
The corner of Medusa’s lips twitched, but she continued looking out the window.
Obviously, Akrivi was not his father. And she should be the last person to judge a child based on the actions of their parents, having lived through many parents herself. Still, it was a shock. Of all the gods, he had to be the son of Poseidon. The scum that ignited the hell that was her first life.
She turned to face him, but when their eyes met, he glanced away. Was that a hint of a blush? Medusa beat down the urge to chuckle.
Judging from what Ares said when he first saw her face, it meant that her gorgon form bore a resemblance to her original face. This reaction, though. Did he not see she was a gorgon? Most of the ones she turned to stone were either screaming in terror or gawking.
He scratched the back of his neck, still not meeting her eyes. “Why are you staring?”
But you started staring first. “How did you do that?” Medusa asked instead.
He lifted his eyes. “Do what?”
“Domain. How did you create it?”
A puzzled frown squeezed his brow. “But… you also created one.”
“Unconsciously.” She propped her jaw on her fist. “Please, teach me. Assume I'm your student.”
He scoffed and peered out the window. He was also wearing the same uniform, but his was a deeper shade of red, and there was no badge. “Are you his kid? The red god, I mean. Is he your father?”
This time, she couldn't fight off an amused smile. “Do we look alike?”
He looked at her, gaze lingering on her face before falling to her neck. He frowned. “You don't. Who gave you that?”
“What?”
“That necklace. Who gave it to you?”
Medusa tugged the jewellery with a thumb. She had been deliberate about wearing it over the uniform's high neck. “My father.”
“The red god?” He pressed with a subtle smile of his own.
“So every redhead you encounter is likely Ares’ child?”
“Not his kid then?”
Medusa shook her head as she scratched Rico behind the ear. He had been dead to the world since last night. “How did you create the domain?”
“Why did you say May is alive?” No longer appearing flustered, his gaze turned serious and steady, as if searching for hints Medusa may attempt to hide. “Your pet? My friend also had one, and she had a necklace like yours.”
“If you promise to teach me how to create a domain, I'll tell you about May.”
“You know May?”
He appeared genuinely curious, even concerned. Why? Did she have such an impact on his life? They did hang out, most of it in the nest, and there were also the stones she gave him. He may have attached a deeper meaning to such interactions. This was the first time she was witnessing someone react to her ‘death’. Heart warming a little, she almost thanked him for caring that someone called May lived.
“Yes, I know May,” Medusa answered. She was wrong for this, but she wasn’t quite ready to reveal she was May. Trust was still a hard currency to spend. “You can even say we're related.”
Akrivi leaned forward, fingers clasped between his knees and gaze still serious. “Then you shouldn't have insulted the dead the way you did. Using her to gain an advantage in a fight was repulsive.”
What an amusing moral scratch post you've chosen. “Why should I care if you find it repulsive?” She asked. “What matters is that I won in the end. You struck me as someone with similar ideals.” Well, aside from his silly no-fighting-doves code. “You have your memory of May, and I have mine. I'll use it however I please.”
His expression twisted. Then he murmured something as he leaned into his seat.
“Will you teach me or not?”
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He looked at her again, shook his head, then sighed. “Fine. Only if you let me look at your daggers.”
“Why?” Medusa could already guess the answer. Akrivi must be dying of curiosity.
“How are you able to pull it to your grip?”
“This has the same rune. Basically the same function. Only, it’s not a blade.” Medusa drew out her practice stone and tossed it at him. He caught and observed it.
He traced the marking with a finger. “I've never seen a rune like this, and I've seen a lot of runes.” He looked at her, eyes sharp. “Who gave this to you?”
“Who gave you that ability? You punched my soul.”
“Hades,” he answered without pause, surprising Medusa. Shouldn't that be a secret? Still, she tucked away the detail for later observation.
“So?” He pressed, eyes eager.
“So what?”
“Who gave this to you?” He repeated as he waved the stone.
“Did we have an agreement that I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours?”
Medusa nearly laughed at the look on his face. It felt good. For all the times this boy swindled her of her precious stones, this was payback.
“I'll leave the stone with you for a day or two. Study it to your heart’s content. As for who gave it to me, I cannot tell you.” Yet. She had a troubling concern that a blend of Clotho and Akrivi would be dangerous. Just what was keeping the Moirai from snatching him up? Medusa still shivered whenever she recalled that mad scientist gleam in her eyes from days ago.
Akrivi laughed and shook his head. “You’re wicked.”
Child, the time has come, Clotho’s voice, unusually low, went off in her head.
Medusa’s hand paused over Rico’s head as the coach slowed to a stop. She wanted to ask the Moirai if she was fine, but her anxiety was rising. Zeus wouldn’t find out. He can’t find out that I have a key. Clotho gave her word. Please, let her word be enough.
Akrivi looked out the window and whistled. “Never in all my life,” he mumbled.
After pulling Rico into her dimension, she stepped out. Akrivi stopped next to her, and they both took it in. Towering marble columns veined with gold, and a pediment bearing a disturbingly life-like sculpture of wrestling men. Leading to the structure was a broad walkway, and to the left and right were trimmed cypress trees and sculpted weapon-wielding women.
There were gods and goddesses about as well, and their arrival had drawn attention.
“I feel like they can kill me with their gaze alone,” Akrivi muttered.
“They can probably hear you.” Medusa didn’t bother whispering. She was Ares' contender; cowering meant Ares was cowering. So she didn’t spare a bow or glance as she walked past. Akrivi did the same, but he was open with his gawking. He looked around, a big smile on his face, and his gait relaxed as if he were a tourist sightseeing.
Beyond the towering door was an arena, but grander than any she had seen before. The elevated platform was made of polished black marble, also gold-veined. Above, glowing orbs hovered around a larger spinning orb. At least there were no dancers here, but a head table had been set up. Currently empty, it held a high chair in the centre and two more to the left and right, though not as high. When Zeus arrives, both Ares and Athena will sit at his side.
Ares was already seated in the first row, closest to the high table. As they approached, she looked across the platform to where Athena would be seated. It seemed the goddess was yet to arrive. Other deities were already filling rows, but a section had been left empty.
They bowed when they reached Ares before sitting at his side. In a row above, Lysander waved, and Medusa waved back. A man with similar features sat beside her. Her brother? There were others as well. At least ten men and three women, all wearing the same uniform as Lysander. There was an aura about them, similar to the wildness Ares possessed. Did he share his blood with them?
“I don’t know how I would act,” Akrivi suddenly said.
“How you would act?” Medusa glanced at him. He was bouncing his knee, focus fixed on the doors they just walked through. “I don’t know how I would act if Poseidon appeared.”
“Oh.” Medusa frowned, searching for the right words to say. Nothing came. “I…” I don’t know how I will act either.
His arrival came sooner than either of them anticipated. Medusa recognised the woman first. The same one at Poseidon's side on the day of the binding ritual. Now she looked much worse. Sunken, empty eyes, measured steps that kept pace with a small child bearing the face Medusa couldn’t forget. He wore a broad smile as he skipped forward, making a beeline for them.
Clotho’s voice was low, tired in Medusa’s ears. Please, do not. Whatever it is you wish to do or say, do not.
Medusa bit down hard, body stiffening where she sat. For the life of her, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Her hate would be stark, open to anyone who cared enough to observe how she looked at the approaching child.
Akrivi was saying something, but… There was the sound of rushing water in her ears. Her heart was pounding in her throat. It is rage I am feeling, not fear. It’s rage.
Her fingers trembled on her thighs. She squeezed them into fists.
Look ahead… Clotho's voice returned, low but urgent. Look at anything else. Think of anything else. We can’t ruin this now.
“Ha.” The laugh ripped out after Medusa finally managed to scrape her gaze away.
I think I’m going insane, Clotho. More of that laughter wanted an escape, but she breathed through her mouth. Headbutt it. I must headbutt it. He would tell me that. Wouldn’t want me to ruin everything when I’m so—
“Ares!” His high voice smashed through Medusa's crumbling attempt to cling to sanity. Rage was a thrashing, alive thing. She began to turn.
Don’t look at him.
Biting the inside of her lip, she stared straight ahead.
“An interesting appearance you have chosen,” Ares answered dryly.
“Indeed. Indeed,” Poseidon answered.
Medusa could feel his gaze slide down the side of her face and linger. She continued breathing through her mouth. This is good. It’s good that I am here, exposed to his vile presence. Build your endurance. She'd need a cool head to kill him in the end, not this gale of rage ripping through rationality.
“I see your contenders have not given their greetings?”
“I instructed that they only extend greetings to none other than Father.”
Some of her rage began to cool. Rationality trickled back in. She started breathing through her nose and counting in her head.
“Ah.” A forced chuckle. “Should one expect such… hubris from a dog?”
Ares merely stared at him, saying nothing.
“So this is your prized contender.” More of that lingering gaze. Medusa’s gut twisted. Stop looking at me.
“Another female. And one so young.”
Go away, Medusa’s soul cried. Get away from me. She was wrong about exposure training. The urge to leap over and grab his neck was hard to resist. But in the midst of that was something ugly she didn't wish to look at—paralysing fear. Poseidon was rumoured to be even stronger than Athena and on par with Ares. Just how… How can I kill this beast?
“Leave.” The single statement from Ares, the raw bite in it was harsh enough to pull Medusa from the haze of storming emotions.
“Insolent!” Poseidon spat, voice trembling. “Brat didn’t even exist when I fell whole cities...” he continued ranting.
Ares greeted his tirade with even more silence. Deities began to look in their direction and murmur among themselves.
“A mere pup dares…” His words faded. “Your cup will soon be full.”
Medusa only looked when he marched away.
“Do you know him?” Akrivi asked, gaze also fixed on Poseidon. “He is a god, isn't he? But I sensed nothing unusual. How do they do that?”
Good thing only one of us got wrecked by his vile presence. Though Akrivi didn't outright mention it, it was clear he was no fan of his father.
Poseidon had to be the first. Athena, Zeus, and Perseus could all wait. Poseidon had too much control over her emotions. Since she took possession of the key, her mind has been less chaotic. After weeks of calm, now this? Unacceptable. He must die. And fast.
Clotho, I need to—tell me what I must do. My patience…I think I will die if I keep breathing the same air as that man.
One mountain at a time, child… one mountain. Her voice grew even lower, fading with each word. I must rest now.
Medusa gulped down her protest and wove her trembling fingers. It was fine. See how far I’ve come. Step by step, surely, one day—
A din suddenly rose as all in the arena looked at the door. Medusa looked as well. At first, she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing, but no matter how hard she tried to reject reality, the picture before her grew more vivid.
But it can’t be. Heart sinking, Medusa watched Athena stroll in, and with her, absolutely impossible not to recognise, was her sister. What was Euryale doing here? Where was the contender? Why was no one else coming in?
Don’t tell me… My sister can’t be. Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking. Clotho, please.
But the Moirai’s presence was already gone.
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