“Now you run amok in my presence.” Zeus’ voice boomed like thunder, the force behind his words shaking Akrivi where he sat.
Instead of answering, Ares’ focus remained fixed on Athena, who now embraced the unconscious gorgon with a look of alarm and broken concern. “What have you done to my priestess?” She wailed.
“Would you not speak?” The air crackled with static around Zeus.
Ares shifted his stare to his father and cocked his head. Though the air around him was chaotic, his expression remained calm. “I've never hidden my disdain for the Games. Yet, you dragged me from my keep to participate in this charade of death. And now you—” He stopped speaking and glared so hatefully at Zeus that Akrivi flinched. “Hephaestus is lucky to be free of you.”
The room's temperature suddenly dropped. Seeming not to notice Zeus’ black rage, Ares turned to leave. But just as he did, lightning came. Forks of blinding light rained from the ceiling and struck all at once.
Akrivi shot to his feet along with the rest of Ares' men, some shouting in shocked protest.
Bolts ripped through flesh, clothes, and hair, incinerating everything. Zeus was burning Ares alive. Soon, the air smelled of burning flesh and metal. Behind, Akrivi felt it, a rising chaotic energy. Ares’ men were enraged but utterly powerless. Even Akrivi felt his anger rise.
Zeus showed no signs of stopping. He would wait for Ares’ regeneration to begin, only to rain more assault. And all through, Antiope remained in the centre of the platform, bleeding out.
Akrivi clenched his fists, feeling useless. This is what we are worth. Nothing. Ants crushed when gods fight. May had died like that, too. So alive only to be suddenly cut down by a goddess’ machinations.
Akrivi looked at Athena. She was watching the display, brow bunched with concern, but for a moment so brief he thought he saw wrong, her lips twitched with a satisfied smile.
Horrified, Akrivi swept his gaze across the other gods and goddesses gathered. Most watched with open glee. Only a few wore an unreadable expression. Once again, he was harshly reminded of their true nature. This lack of humanity.
Someone cackled. It was the little boy who had offered a greeting earlier.
“Finally. I told you your cup would soon be full,” he shouted, even clapping with a deranged gleam in his eyes. “Be thankful for father’s discipline.”
Madness. They were all insane. The urge to flee this place arrested Akrivi, but he stood frozen as the grisly punishment stretched on and on.
Ares remained standing all through. Not a shout or grunt as he took bolt after bolt. Burned. Regeneration. Burned again. Merciless, relentless and humiliating.
Zeus now appeared as a stoic old man, his expression even more unyielding than it was before. It seemed he was looking for a reaction from Ares, and if he did not see it, his assault would not—
“STOP!”
A woman appeared before Ares and spread her arms. All six bolts froze, then fizzled to nothing. Akrivi recognised that over-long red hair and petite frame in an instant. He resisted the urge to touch the earring swinging from his ear.
“Hera, what are you doing?” Furious red eyes remained fixed on Ares' slowly healing face.
She offered a deep bow. “Please. Stay your hand. Please.”
Zeus scowled at her bowed head. “Your protection is his weakness.”
She remained bowed, long red hair curtaining her face. “I beg you.”
Face placid, Ares casually summoned a robe and shrugged it on as his body continued healing, then he strolled over to where Antiope lay. After touching her neck as if feeling for a pulse, he lifted her limp body and motioned for his men to follow.
As Akrivi stood to follow, he glanced behind and realised Zeus was already gone, but Hera remained, her worried gaze following Ares. His encounter with the goddess had been brief, something that occurred when he was merely four, and his custody changed hands, but he was thankful for her interference today. I won’t forget.
Akrivi spied Antiope’s legs. The way Ares carried her brought flashbacks to his desperate race across the school grounds after he used the teleportation stone. He had been in denial, refusing to acknowledge Lonian’s prayers for the dead over May’s corpse.
Now, another one. Akrivi counted the drops of blood on the marble floor as he trailed after Ares. This was the reality of the strongest mortal against a low deity. We are nothing. Antiope had easily defeated him, but in a mere breath, she was reduced to… he clenched his fist.
His plan shifted. The goal of no immortality remained, but now there was a bend to it. Those fantasies of basking in wealth as he enjoyed the company of his future wives and children burned like parchment before the fires of grim reality. For his dream to come true, peace was essential. And peace can never exist where these undying beasts exist.
I will find a way, Akrivi swore. All his intellect, all his passion, every waking moment, he would pour everything into finding a way, and one day, they will tremble before the weak and beg for their lives.
Medusa was underwater. Her hair, spread like sea ferns, swayed around her face, and her arms were stretched as if reaching for the dim light above. Nothing swam past, just vast, deep blue water and its pressing weight.
For a moment, she allowed herself to sink as her mind replayed that scene. Euryale went for my heart. She stabbed me like I was… nothing. A disposable mortal.
Shrugging off the hurt, Medusa pushed against the force pulling her down and kicked for the surface. Bursting free, she looked around. Nothing but a stretch of calm ocean; above was a blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds, and the sun warmed her skin.
It felt too real, even realer than the time she met Antonii. The last thing she recalled was the Monolith vein flooding her system and rushing for the key… then black. She raised her hand and wiggled her pruney fingers before her face; she didn’t feel any new rush of power.
Sighing, she turned and floated on her back. Shutting her eyes against the sun, she bobbed in the water as she let herself drift. Whatever the Monolith did to her, this break was welcome, but the calm soon shattered when a shadow fell over her shut eyes.
She opened her eyes as she drifted past the flooded mouth of a large cave. As she swam deeper, she began recognising other things. That webbed crack on the limestone wall just ahead. She had smashed a gadfly against that spot with her tail. The way air moved through the cave in hollow whooshes. She used to count them, along with the thundering crash of waves whenever the sea was having a fit.
This was Sarpedon, the island of her banishment.
Wading out of the water, she looked around. It was like visiting an old home filled with bitter memories; everything felt suffocatingly familiar and painfully vivid. Ahead, a turn to the left and deeper down was where Perseus beheaded her.
She heard it then, a whisper sliding from one ear to the other. Medusa.
Instead of panicking, curiosity stirred. She continued ahead, weirdly confident that nothing could harm her in this plane. Tired waves licked at her feet as she stepped into a wider chamber. A wide circular slab lay ahead. She used to curl up at the spot, basking in the slats of sunlight spilling past the hole above.
In the days of her banishment, the cave had felt like a complex, ever-wet ant hill with its numerous hidden tunnels and crawlways. Most of her attempts to kill boredom had been to explore it. She had been the only inhabitant save for a few critters. Any beast that attempted to share her space met death. So what was that voice?
Medusa. The voice returned, but this time it sounded dry and cracked with age, and definitely female.
Allowing her curiosity to win, Medusa followed the voice. She was familiar with every nook, even the hidden exits that led outside the cave. She had never been able to go past them due to her binding. Things may be different now. She found she was even more curious to see what the rest of the island was like than to learn the source of the voice.
She headed to one of those exits instead, but the voice called again. This time, they sounded young and playful.
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Medusa stopped, caught between two curiosities.
“He is earlier this time…” The words didn't go off in her head. Someone was actually speaking. “Find me before he does.”
“Before who does?”
“Perseus.” The voice sounded old again.
Medusa turned towards the voice. “You know Perseus?” She took a step. “Who are you?”
“You've met my sisters.”
“Don’t tell me…”
“Yes, I am Lachesis. The second Moirai.” Silence, then “Come.” The word reverberated within the cave, no compulsion, but it sounded divine all the same.
“Fine.” Following winding passages cool with moisture, she pressed ahead until she reached a squeeze. It was a path she recognised from her first life; she had never been able to go past the squeeze because it had been too narrow to wiggle through. But things were different now. The stone walls reformed upon a distracted mental command, offering a wider passage.
I did that? Can I replicate that when I return to the real world? Medusa’s attention remained fixed on the reshaped passage until the earth suddenly fell away beneath her feet.
She was free-falling, the air whipping around her ear and snatching her wet tunic and hair. There was no panic, though; she knew what to do. She could feel the key more than she used to, and unlike aether, it didn't physically disrupt the conditions around. No shattering of the earth or flying debris; a brief deletion of gravity, and she landed silently at the bottom.
She looked up first, checking how far she had fallen. Not too high. Perhaps forty feet. A chasm with high, rocky walls, holding jutting, glowing, luminescent crystals that bathed the place in a soft light. The humidity remained, but it felt drier than the rest of the cave. There was a structure ahead. She narrowed her vision. Some sort of tent?
“How did you like my gift?”
Medusa whipped around and looked down. A girl who looked no older than ten stood before her. Balanced across her shoulders was an iron pole bearing glowing tick marks for measurements.
“I scared you?” She smiled up at Medusa. “I apologise.”
Medusa asked the first question that came to mind. “Why do you look like Zeus?”
The girl lifted a lock of her damp white hair and frowned down at it. “It's the hair and eyes, isn't it?”
She looked up, red eyes sad. “But I tell you, that thief would never make me snap.”
A blink and she was holding Medusa’s hand, eyes bright with open curiosity. “I asked you.”
“Asked me what?” What was this creepy situation?
“How do you like my gift?” She pointed at Medusa’s chest. “I gave you the gift to go with the Monolith’s curse.”
“What gift?” Medusa asked, confused and a tad affronted. “The key? I—”
“Your mortality.”
“Nonsense! My curse said… she said the Monolith did this to me.”
“The Monolith tried to make you immortal. Hmmm.” She touched her chin as a thoughtful expression clouded her face. “But it somewhat succeeded seeing your reincarnations.”
Medusa fell silent, mind going blank.
“But if I had not helped, you would have lived as a head.” Lachesis shuddered as if recalling an unpleasant memory. “I learned the Monolith is connected to this island. Did you know that? I know that despite being a Moirai,” she added, appearing pleased with herself. “Athena knows, too. Zeus doesn't know she knows. You were her project, an undying weapon to force subjugation. But I saved you. No need for thanks. You were like my prison mate after all. You never heard me before. I called and called...”
Medusa stared at the chattering girl, hardly listening. It was happening again, not knowing what to feel. Was it the key affecting her? She couldn't even summon a whiff of anger or shock.
An undying weapon. It rang in her head over and over until she managed to speak. “Does Clotho know about your gift? Does she know you're here?”
Lachesis shook her head no, then she stabbed her staff into the earth and held out her hands. Like a mirage falling away, black thorns appeared, their appearance even more garish than what Medusa saw on her father and Clotho’s other sister. The black thorny vines were wound tightly around her arms from wrist to shoulders. Where the points pierced, cracks spread and bled golden light.
“What's that?”
“Pilos thistles. I learned they grow around the Monolith.” Her voice cracked with age. “Zeus found an effective use for it. But I would not break.” She tugged at Medusa's arm again, guiding her to the edge of the expanse where a crumbling shack waited.
It was more like a… Medusa cocked her head, trying to make sense of the sight. A small living space that was carved into the rock with two roughly hewn sticks holding up a battered overhang. To the right was a stone slab bench and a ledge that served as a table. She waved, and sparks sputtered before a slim flask and two wooden cups appeared. They appeared finely crafted and coated with polished resin.
“Please, sit and drink with me.”
As Medusa sat, she observed the exposed living area. It was a hovel compared to Clotho’s abundant domain. Scanty shelves holding crumbling scrolls and odd bric-a-bracs scattered about.
If Lachesis was aware of her poverty, it didn't show. If anything, she appeared excited as she eagerly filled the cups. Same red colour as what Clotho offered her. Medusa politely took the cup but resolved not to drink it.
“I have many interesting things to tell you,” she said, voice back to its childlike tone. “I've seen so many interesting things. You would love my stories. Oh dear, there are so many I don’t know which to choose.”
This type of eager-to-please behaviour was a clear sign of severe loneliness and forced isolation. Either that, or the Moirai was an excellent actress. Even more wary, Medusa cradled her cup with both palms. “Don't you want to know how your sisters are doing?”
Lachesis tapped her chin with a finger. “I know how they’re doing. I can see them, but they can't see me. Atropos obtained freedom for the first time. This time is good. But she is still angry.” When she looked at Medusa, she smiled so brightly it was blinding. “If her rage did not lead her to the path she walked, that boy may have found me.” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “But you found me first, and you are taking the path. You partially freed my sister as well. Forgive her rage and her attempt on your life.” She offered a subtle bow. “I thank you. I could hug you. Can I hug you?”
She worried her fingers as she waited for an answer, her red eyes shining with unabashed hope.
Medusa nearly bought it. She appeared so pitiful in her ragged clothes, thin frame, damp hair, and sad eyes. But this was an ancient being she was looking at. There may be some manipulation about. And this place… She looked around, taking in the towering walls. “The loneliness must have been awful,” Medusa mumbled.
Lachesis' face fell as she stared at her now-empty cup. Her voice aged once more. “I preferred it when I did not… understand the concept of loneliness, or rage, or curiosity.” She looked up and beamed again. “I prefer curiosity the most. And you have not answered me. My gift, did you not like it? It took so much from me. That boy Perseus…” she sucked her teeth and shook her head. “But this time, I see a possibility. A true end to his life.”
The Moirai’s words aligned with what her curse shared, how Perseus won in the end.
“I am grateful for your gift,” Medusa finally said. And she meant it. It was good that she lived those lives as a mortal. There were bitter moments, but nothing had come close to the horror of her first life. But what concerned her was the why. Why had Lachesis given her the gift of mortality? And there was something Perseus said to her that day on the farm.
You have been very difficult to find.
Had he been looking for her across her past lives?
“Why did you call me here?”
“Would you believe me if I said it was to see your face?”
When Medusa scowled, Lachesis released a peel of laughter.
“That was my first attempt at a joke. Did you like it?”
“It was decent,” Medusa lied. “Why did you call me?”
Expression growing solemn, she resumed staring at her empty cup. “Do not seek my freedom. Clotho, my sister… she is risking too much. Now that we are apart, we do not see as clearly as we did when we were together. What she sees, she sees partially. Yes, you may win at the games, and Zeus may be compelled to free me, but I know with certainty that chaos reigns after that.”
“Chaos for who?”
“Is there anyone a war of that scale wouldn't touch? Clotho sees a war and races toward it. War means death. Atropos would grow even more powerful if that happens. Now that she is with that boy, it would be foolish to make her stronger than she already is. At least, not in the current state of her mind.” She paused and looked at Medusa. “Since getting human emotions, I have learned to care for my sisters, but my rationality remains in focus. Atropos is too dangerous to let loose, and I suspect Clotho may let her do so to win in the end. Do you know what worries me the most?”
“I’m dying of curiosity.” In truth, Medusa was already weary. Her aim was revenge. What was this talk of war?
“What concerns me is that boy being in the middle of it all. Only this time have I seen his end, and it is too delicate to handle with carelessness. Do you understand?”
Medusa swirled the contents of the cup. It really looked good; maybe next time she would dare a sip. “I can simply kill them all.” And above that goal was an ultimate ambition she kept carefully hidden, not even daring to whisper it to herself. “In the future you wish to come to pass, do you not see me killing them?”
“Killing who?”
“Those who destroyed my life.”
Lachesis refilled her cup and emptied it in one go. “You know my sister is using your thirst for revenge to achieve her goal?”
Medusa shrugged. It was something she had already considered and made peace with. “Does she or does she not wish to end the gods? That’s all I care about.”
Lachesis fell silent.
Medusa stood up, ready to leave. She was no ambassador of peace. Her eyes were fixed on those she cared about, and that was already enough of a burden.
“Do you not wish for peace in Cosmolith?” Lachesis asked, voice desperate. “You cannot imagine the number that would die.”
“How is that my responsibility?” Medusa shot back, suddenly pissed. “Go preach to the gods you allowed to make a fine mess of things.”
Lachesis’ face crumbled as if she were about to weep. Eyes downcast, she nodded morosely. “You are… you’re correct. You are innocent in this, dragged into a game without your consent. But no one chooses to exist; even my sisters and I have no hand in that. The least we can do is prevent needless suffering in the short time they are here.”
Medusa laughed. Was this some auditory hallucination? How could an ageless being sound so painfully naive? “War is as human as humanity itself. There is no running from it.” Memories from her fourth life pushed for the surface, but it was easier than breathing to slap them aside.
“You do not know what Cosmolith was like before the rise of that warmongering kingdom. Yes, suffering will remain, but there was a beauty in life. And now… the age of Zeus.” She lifted pained eyes. “There was a different time, Medusa. A moment of peace. When Prometheus—”
“Do not mention his name,” Medusa cut in.
Lachesis sighed and raised both hands as if surrendering. “Very well. At least, convey my desire not to be freed to my sister.” She stared at her thumbs as she twiddled them. “And…” she paused as if torn. “No, it's fine. You may leave.”
Tearing her gaze off the dejected picture the Moirai painted, Medusa retraced her steps. Only when she softly landed at the top of the chasm did Lachesis’ voice go off in her head.
If the goal is to end the gods, do not think your family will be spared.
Who is the best? You, my friend. You are the bestestest bestest.
Until next Saturday.
Wait! I left a poll.
You've met the three Fates (Moirai), who is your fav so far?
