As Nestor and the woman approached, Medusa attempted to sit up, only to realise she was restrained. Frowning, she pulled at her arms, staring in confusion at the red cords around her wrists. Something was between her teeth. Unclenching her jaw, she spat out a slab of wood. It had deep indents from how hard she had been biting down.
“You had seizures,” the woman said dryly.
“I see.” Medusa looked around. The large room resembled an infirmary with rows of empty beds to her left and right.
“I guess I’m done here.” She patted Nestor on the shoulder as she walked past. “Take it easy with these training sessions.”
They both watched her go until she vanished past the door.
“I didn’t know the blindfold training could be stopped externally,” Medusa said.
“It can. But in your case…” He tutted and shook his head. “How are you feeling?”
“Fatigued. Not as bad as when I woke up, though.”
“That’s a relief.” When Nestor touched the ropes, they burned away with a sizzle. “I am not asking you to tell me exactly what happened during the training, but if you can share anything odd… something I can add to my report to the red god.”
Medusa massaged her wrists. “You can say my curse was tough to handle. He’ll understand”
“Very well.” Nestor nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. “While you were unconscious, some friends visited.”
“Huh?” Medusa blinked in surprise. Before this life, she had no friends save for Antonii and her sister from her third life, and she had never been sick or admitted to a hospital either, so their visit felt unfamiliar but… nice.
“They may visit again like they did yesterday and the day before,” Nestor said as he prepared to leave. “Varelas will likely discharge you this evening. Can you stand?”
Medusa pushed to her feet. Every joint ached, and her muscles felt sore, but it felt more like the result of her laps around the training hall. She frowned at the unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her belly. Something was spinning behind her belly button, and she sensed she could move it if she tried hard enough.
She cocked her head and tried to make sense of this discovery. The ball seemed to be drawing aether through her pores, giving a destination to what previously sat in her body.
“Are you alright? Do I call Varelas?”
Medusa stood straighter. “It’s… my body still aches from the sprints.”
Nestor shook his head and muttered something about weak mortal bodies. “We shall suspend blindfold training for the time being.”
Though Medusa wanted to argue, she nodded obediently.
“And what is this strange rumour I hear about you being a disciple of the red god? Is that true? Are you also his disciple?”
She groaned internally. Arke must have embellished the rumours she had asked her to spread—not that Medusa cared. Clotho had told her to be bold and arrogant; the best she could do was wave around Ares’ name.
“You seem confused as well. Never mind it.” He waved. “I shall take my leave.”
In his absence, the silence returned. Even now, she still itched to return to the training. If she could try again, she might kill Perseus without ending her life. She’d use this time to consider their clash from every angle and check for winning routes.
There was also the horror she witnessed through her double. Why did her mother look like a damn scarecrow and what were those thorns around Phorcys’ neck, wrists and ankles? Though ignorant about the details of her father’s punishment, a way to save him lingered, urging her to forego her promise to Clotho.
Burying her fingers in her hair, she pressed her mind for other options; there may be another way. She looked up at the sound of voices and saw Akrivi, Lonian, and the twins stroll into the ward. They stopped talking when they noticed she was awake. Chilion flashed over and snatched her into a tight hug.
Surprised, Medusa froze but drew back when she heard a sniff. “Are you crying?”
Chilion laughed and shook her head. “I’m just relieved.” Her face, wet with tears, managed to look both distraught and happy. “I've never seen anything like it. We were waiting outside the training hall when it happened. You were bleeding from your nose and ears. Even sweating blood. It was awful. I thought you were going to die. And yesterday your hand—” she grabbed Medusa’s arm, the one Perseus severed, and pointed at the spot just below her wrist. “Here was bleeding too, and the worst happened when this gash—” She swiped at her tears. “I saw your shoulder split open down to your chest. It was horrible!”
“Huh?” Medusa gaped at Chilion. This wasn't the way blindfold training worked. Just what did her curse do?
“I'm not lying. Ask them. They were here too.”
Medusa looked over Chilion’s shoulder. The boys nodded as they sat on the bed next to hers
“It happened so fast,” Akrivi appeared more puzzled than worried. “It was like we dreamed what we saw. Even the blood on the bed vanished. Varelas refused to believe us, but I think Nestor might have. I'm not sure,” he said with a shrug.
“I see.”
“Your seizures happened soon after. They sent us away at that point,” Lonian said solemnly. “What sort of training does that to a person?”
Medusa shrugged instead of answering. She was thankful for their concern but willing to do even more to get stronger.
“Is it true that you're the red god’s disciple?” Myrion spoke for the first time.
Settling more comfortably against her pillow, she asked, “And if I am?”
The varying look of shock on their faces forced a laugh out of Medusa. “Not a disciple, but he’s my backer.”
It went crazy from there; everyone wanted to know about Ares, not that she had much to say about him. For the time being, Medusa allowed herself to relax. No thoughts of her parents, training, or the coming trial. So she allowed herself to laugh, shared her lunch five ways, and talked about everything she missed in the past two days.
The air was dry. It hadn’t rained for days. No rain meant no lightning, and no lightning meant Perseus was forced to face his own weakness. That’s what they thought, and he let them think so. This was punishment after all. And according to the tall deity Perseus had marked death, the punishment was a painful necessity.
Perseus’ attempt to free Heracles from his pain ended with him and the boy being cast into what they called the Thousand Tooth Pit. A creation of Hades, surely that was what it was. The vast square space was over a hundred ankona wide and held ridiculously long javelins made from black iron. Each javelin, different in length, hummed with aether, and they were sharper and better than anything he ever created.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
After they forced burning elixir down their throats, they threw them into the spiked pit with the instruction to use aether to survive. And there was a catch; If they reached the red line that marked thirty ankona down, they’d be pulled to a slow, torturous death.
The experience has been glorious so far. Skewered, sliding down, unable to die. Fighting the pull of the Earth with aether. Bleeding and bleeding. Unbearable pain… at first.
Perseus wasn’t angry. No. The black thing simmered and twisted his thoughts, painting vivid images of mindless violence and calculated mayhem—scenes he’d once been too sheltered to imagine. They flooded his mind and offered him a bizarre but blissful escape.
Someone groaned in the background, but Perseus didn’t open his eyes. Heracles had stopped his pitiful tears two days ago, now it was occasional groans and panting.
Perseus also realised there was something wrong with the pit. Keeping his eyes open for too long brought visions, the type that reached the deepest corners of his memories and fished out the forgotten. Beasts leaping and slashing at him from the chasm below. Giant serpents curling up javelins and snapping at his face. Their harsh calls and chilling growls. Even the mormo featured in some visions, its long arm looping like a sling and red claws glowing. There were eyes, too, many eyes staring at him from the abyss.
Sweat rolled down his back and slid over his neck, then it stopped at the tip of his left ear and dropped. Perseus imagined it disappearing into the darkness below and stinging one of the many eyes shut.
You call this an inferno? This is nothing. Bring days and months and years. I will be here!
Keeping his breath even, he maintained his locked position. Index finger to the tip of the javelin. Compressed aether and the goddess’ black energy hummed between each point, the two spheres rolling in opposite directions. Perfectly balanced.
I know it in my bones. In my flesh. In my mind. There is none like me in all of Cosmolith. None.
He tried to imagine the look on his uncle's face when he returned. Would he continue his pretence? Though the goddess made no mention of it, Perseus had come to a conclusion. His uncle must have somehow been involved with his capture.
I'll take care of that. Of my brother, too. I'll take care of everything.
The angry goddess had given no pointers on using the power she had gifted him. She rarely conversed with him since she went about shutting Athena’s eyes. Within that time, Perseus had explored as much as he could, and spending days in the pit with teeth had helped. Through wounds, broken bones and blood, he discovered interesting things.
The angry goddess' black energy existed around him; though not as abundant as aether, it was like poison in the air.
“Perseus!”
The sudden call of his name shattered his balance. The space between his finger and the javelin vanished, and he went down. As the spike pierced through his arm and broke bones, the tether around his waist tightened, tore his arm free and hoisted him out of the pit.
Swallowing a cry of agony, Perseus panted through clenched teeth as his wounds healed.
I’m not angry. I am calm. I will do nothing to raise suspicion. Athena must not know. I'm not angry. I am calm… he repeated the lines until the pain ceased and his volcanic emotions settled.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that he was not alone. Strangely, those the goddess identified as Athena’s eyes were present: the first instructor, Notos, the hunched girl, and the owl.
The first instructor, a low deity who went by Yannis, sat under a canopy ahead with the owl sitting on his shoulder. The hunched girl was among the servers; though Perseus spied her stealing glances his way, he refused to look at her directly. There was his senior called Notos. He was large and silent. There were other students as well. A slender girl he didn’t recognise and a smallish boy with a sharp face and piercing eyes.
“I see you’re a quick learner.” Yannis smiled, exposing silver canines.
The hardest part wasn't suffering in the pit; it was maintaining the facade of knowing nothing about their plans. Seeing this low deity sitting like some prince with his fine robes and smug smile, stoked the flames of his fury, but he schooled his breathing and distracted himself with thoughts that must come to pass.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
Breathing through his mouth, Perseus offered a stiff nod. “Of course. Instructor Yannis.”
“That is yet to be proven, though.” He turned to his left and casually gestured at the hunched girl. “Bring a meal.” Turning back to Perseus, he flashed his silvery smile again. “It must have been dreadful surviving on the elixir alone, yes?”
Perseus remained silent.
Yannis scowled. “When I ask questions, I expect answers.”
“It was dreadful,” Perseus answered, his voice miraculously level.
“Of course it was,” he said with a laugh. “The path to godhood cannot be easy.”
The servant soon brought a tray laden with choice meat roasted to perfection, bread and an unfamiliar bowl of red soup that looked delicious.
Yannis picked at the meal, chewing carefully and watching Perseus as if searching for something. “Despite joining us with little learning,” he pointed with his half-eaten lamb rib, “you show promise.”
“You flatter me, instructor Yannis.” Though Perseus’ pride burned to admit it, he was famished beyond words. His mouth watered as he found tearing his eyes from the platter impossible. The servants brought even more dishes. Crabs, fish and plates holding strange grains he had never seen before. They all looked delicious; he gulped.
“My patron is interested in children of lightning.”
Children? Were there more blood carriers like him? What was Athena planning?
“Oh, do not look so confused. All who carry Zeus’ blood are children of lightning.” The owl rustled its feathers as if affirming the deity’s statement.
“Despite just joining us, you have been chosen by our patron—a high god of Olympus.”
The hard part was acting elated or showing surprise that a high god was interested in him. Not knowing which to choose, Perseus took a knee and bowed his head to hide his expressionless face. “I am deeply honoured.”
“Yes, of course you are.” Yannis continued in a breezy tone. “But there is something you must do. See it as a test of sorts.”
When Yannis fell silent, Perseus raised his head. The deity’s face was straight, his gaze searching. “You will go on a mission with them.” He nodded at the rest. “If you do well, my patron will favour you. Surely, you know the importance of a high god favouring a mere mortal.”
“Again, I am honoured,” Perseus said in what he hoped was an overwhelmed voice.
Yannis waved like he was speaking nonsense. “Drys Valon offered an invitation to their coming trials...” His gaze flittered to the rest of the group. “They will brief you on the rest later. For now, feast with me.”
Later that evening, as Perseus returned to his room from the baths, he heard it. A soft whistle then a shifting shadow that disappeared past the corner ahead. Since the sun was just setting, there was enough light to rule out a possible jumping, and he recognised the whistle. Still, he held himself ready as he approached the corner.
He wasn't surprised to see the hunched girl. She worried her fingers as she peeked at his face, remaining silent for an uncomfortable stretch.
Instead of snapping at her to speak, he forced what he hoped was a charming smile. “Why have you sought me out? More gift of wine?”
She shook her head shyly and peeked from side to side as if searching for prying eyes. When she pulled something from her satchel, Perseus was hardly surprised. It was another gift. These people and their painstaking manipulation. He frowned when she exposed her gift.
His book and blindfold. The very ones his kidnappers had taken from him. Acting without thinking, he snatched her by the neck and squeezed. “Where did you get this?”
She kicked her feet and gripped his wrist, begging with eyes that bulged so grotesquely he let go in disgust. He coldly watched, saying nothing as she coughed and cradled her neck. Remembering the role he had to play, he squatted but didn't offer her a hand. Instead, he retrieved the book and the blindfold.
“I apologise for lashing out.”
Still coughing, she looked at his face, and her eyes widened. How was his expression? However it was, he refused to fix it, not for a spying humped freak who dared to deceive him.
As he watched her trembling form, his mind was made up. The mysterious power the goddess gave him would debut with this deceiver. But it was too open here. Since he wasn’t sure if the goddess had taken care of Athena’s many eyes, he resolved to create a situation where nothing would point back to him.
Forcing a smile he hoped appeared contrite, he offered her a hand which she tentatively took.
“I apologise again.” He patted her damp, stringy hair while suppressing his disgust. “Seeing the book and the blindfold, I… I became overtaken with emotions and lashed out. I was with them when I got kidnapped, you see?”
He scratched his head and softened his gaze as he looked at her.
“It's… It's no problem. I'm sorry you were sent to the pit.” She couldn't look him in the eye. Could it be…
“I will see you later.” He swept the back of his fingers down her cheek just to be sure, and he was rewarded. He nearly laughed out loud when a blush stained her cheek and reddened the tip of her ears. The stupid girl was making it too easy.
After she bid him farewell, Perseus held his smile in place and watched her hobble away; even after she disappeared past the bend, he maintained his smile.
He was smiling just in case the owl was watching, not because he was excited to test the goddess’ powers on a person for the first time.
For those who watch, I left a completely random-nothing-to-do-with-writing-or-reading-novels poll.
Hard choice, but I just love Oh from Home and his broken English.
Until next Saturday.
I prefer
