The girl moved with quick, silent steps, leading Perseus down an unfamiliar path that cut through the forest bordering Cronus' Hovel. Today, unlike the raggedy tunic she preferred, she wore a pristine toga that stretched over the hump on her stooped spine. Her hair didn’t seem as oily, and there was that determined glint in her eyes when she sought him out that afternoon.

  “Follow me. I must tell you something.”

  Perseus had readily obliged.

  She had been elusive for weeks, almost as if she sensed he had marked her for death. Now and then, she’d appear with gifts of wine, cheese, bread, honeycomb, even uniforms far finer than the threadbare mess he'd been handed on his first day in Cronus’ Hovel. But any time he asked to meet at a place of his choosing, she answered with a shy shake of the head.

  When he asked where they were headed, ‘a secret place’ was all she said. Well, the secret place was taking more time than he had bargained, and his patience was beginning to stretch thin.

  Finally, they made it through the forest and came upon an abandoned village overtaken by weeds and thorn bushes. The previous occupants seemed to have fled in haste, judging from the scattered remains of shattered vases, rusted weapons, and sandals. Lots of sandals eroded by the elements. There was something off about the air, too. That energy he sensed, thanks to the dark goddess, hung low and abundant, but unlike aether, it was difficult to gather.

  Perseus folded his hands across his chest as he continued trailing the girl. Save for the sound of rustling leaves and their footsteps, nothing stirred. No birds. No insects. No croak of frogs despite the marshes they had passed on their way here.

  The girl continued down the cobblestone path that cut through the village square. Not a word or a backwards glance as she pressed on.

  Perhaps, he should be worried. She may be luring him to a trap after all, yet his heartbeat remained even. Whatever comes, he would face.

  The past weeks had been full of unexpected harvests thanks to the heirloom the girl returned. As his understanding of theos tongue slowly grew, alien ideas began sprouting and forming threads of plausibility. And the more familiar he grew with the goddess’ dark energy, the more those ideas evolved.

  There remained a big problem, though. Being seen. He must find a means to shield himself from the eyes of every deity, especially the dark one that had fused herself to him like some… some tumour with a mouth. Her claws were in too deep, and her true intent with him was unclear.

  The only secret thing he possessed was his mind. Since the dark goddess inferred a lot from his emotions, placing his feelings under a tight leash helped, but there was also the inconvenience of her odd foresight. Or was it foresight? He wasn’t so sure. She’d shown him that horrifying vision of an older version of himself getting burned in a basin of fire. Did that mean she possessed foresight? Was she even a god? She had claimed other deities were thieves and could be killed; maybe the same rule applied to her.

  “We’re here,” the girl said as she stopped before a sagging shrine.

  Beneath the shrine’s crumbling roof stood a weather-beaten statue of a woman with spread arms and a crescent balanced on her head. It looked well-kept, as if someone had taken the time to frequently sweep away dead leaves and trim back the creeping vegetation.

  After offering the statue a deep bow, she faced him. “I brought you here because they hear nothing in this space.”

  Would you look at that? An amused smile curved Perseus' lips. Did she wish to paint herself as some unwilling victim of the goddess? Was this some test? Perhaps a ruse to probe the essence of his character?

  Perseus glanced about. He could sense no other presence, but he had learned not to act out of character except when the goddess gave him a clear signal. Since she was silent, there was a possibility that he was being watched.

  “I…” She bit her lip and looked at him with tortured eyes.

  He scowled as his patience snapped. “Speak.”

  She dropped her gaze and worried her fingers. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow.” She appeared terrified, and it reminded him of Antigoni’s reaction just before an arrow pierced his head.

  “They… they made me.” Her already hunched back hunched even further as she hugged herself. “I… what I’m trying to say is they’re using me to… they made me to…”

  Unwilling to stomach the mind games, Perseus turned to leave.

  Stop!

  What? Though irritated at the dark goddess’ sudden interruption, he didn’t let it show in his tone or demeanour.

  She’s here.

  Who? He looked at the girl once more and frowned when the air around her neck rippled. Slim fingers materialised from the void and encircled her neck from behind.

  Squeeze and CRACK.

  The girl hung in place for an ugly moment before crumbling to a lifeless heap, dead eyes staring ahead as a line of tears escaped.

  The hands vanished.

  Fear coursed through Perseus’ veins in a cold rush as he stumbled away. Heart racing in his throat, he whipped about, tense and ready to strike.

  No one. There was nothing but silence and death before him.

  His gaze inched back to the dead girl. He stared as white smoke wafted past parted lips and nostrils before curling into the air. He frowned at the curious sight.

  But there was something else he had to do. Something important.

  No waste. On instinct, he spoke, “Drai—”

  “Shhhh.”

  His voice box seized, trapping the word half-formed.

  A crushing pressure bore down on his shoulders and head, forcing him to crash to his knees. Pain flared as his teeth clattered and bit into the inside of his mouth. The taste of blood flooded his mouth. An overwhelming flowery scent stuffed down his nostrils as a faint golden glow bled into the peripherals of his vision.

  Athena. Disdain coloured the dark goddess’ voice. She finally made an appearance.

  Athena was here? Right now? Disbelief fogged his mind, but a sharp pain starting at his nape and spreading over his scalp soon shook him from his awestruck daze.

  “You may lift your head, mortal.” Her voice was soft and low with an odd reverberation.

  Perseus belatedly noticed he had lifted his head outside his own will and was now gazing at an ethereal image.

  A golden halo flared around her, much like the apparition he had seen when her priestess healed his brother. She wore no helmet, no owl perched on her shoulder, no spear in hand. An ordinary appearance yet power poured off her like crushing waves, battering him where he knelt.

  Then he was distracted by the dead girl in her arms. Her hand swung lifelessly as Athena hugged her to her chest like a grieving mother would.

  “Oh, child.” She slid the dead girl’s eyes close. “Why lie and deceive? Why force my hand?”

  If the heavy pressure of her presence wasn't bearing down on him, he might have laughed and risked perishing on the spot. At the very least, he should be grateful to the dark goddess for opening his eyes. His former self would have been overtaken with awe to the point of servile worship.

  Athena lifted her eyes. “You.” She cocked her head. “You tolerated her kindness when you found her person distasteful. Why, child of lightning?”

  Dropping his gaze, he paused as if deeply considering her question. “She provided benefits I enjoyed,” he said in a low, reverent voice. “I do… I would not insult the hands that help me.”

  “Is that so?” A heavy silence.

  “I only speak the truth, high goddess.”

  “Very well.” There was a subtle note of satisfaction in her voice. She shifted her focus to the dead girl. “She was loyal. Despite failing in the end, she was still loyal.”

  The glow of the goddess transferred to the girl, and her body began disintegrating into tiny flecks of light that soon disappeared.

  A heavy silence followed her departure.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “She goes to a better place,” Athena finally mumbled.

  Deceiver. Perseus' fists tightened on his knees. I reject your lies. My mind will not be swayed.

  “Stand.”

  His legs obeyed. Though he recognised she had used theos tongue, he couldn’t tell where.

  “Tell me what you must do at Drys Valon.”

  Perseus’ heart staggered within his chest as an irresistible urge to speak overwhelmed him. His mouth moved outside his volition and spewed the necessary words.

  This compulsion was worse than what he felt on his first day in Cronus’ Hovel. The goddess’ words reached deep within him, into his very soul. Not a shred of his being could resist.

  What is this? He asked the dark goddess in a panic.

  Her presence returned with a soft pulse. She knows your essence. So far Zeus’ blood flows in you, she would have some control. Think of it as a gift from her father.

  “I see terror in your eyes. Did my actions scare you?” She was before his face now, hand cradling his cheek and eyes searching. “Hmmm. Fine features. You look like your mother.”

  He grew stiff. I do not look like my mother. “You… you know my mother?”

  She chuckled and swept a glowing thumb across his cheek. “I know every mortal.”

  Such bold lies. The dark goddess’ anger merged with his.

  “I shall give you a gift. A symbol of my investment in your future.” She retreated to a small distance, dipped her hand into nothing and pulled a sword out.

  First, it glowed with blinding light before dimming as she held it before her face. Even from a distance, Perseus could tell it was a weapon far above anything his smithing could ever produce.

  She drifted over, sword in hand.

  “I tricked a trickster to get this.” A flash of victory lit her eyes, then vanished as she pinned him with a piercing stare. “Such a hard-won gift demands results.”

  Perseus bowed low. That sword deserved a thousand bows and more. “I will not disappoint.”

  “Good.” She tossed the sword his way and watched with amusement as Perseus dived to catch it.

  Gripping the hilt, Perseus marvelled at how perfectly it sat in his hand. This lightness and balance. Aether, too. Its sharp edges were densely lined with it, warping the air and giving off a subtle hum. “I… I thank the high goddess,” he said in a breathless voice.

  “Of course, you do,” she said, voice bored. “Today, I’ve made you my favourite.” She stared at him once more, her gaze hard with warning. “Do not fall short.”

  Then she was gone in a wink of light.

  Perseus barely noticed. Instead, he stood, swiping the sword and releasing crazed laughter as it cleanly cut through the air. For a while, he did not stop, losing himself in the sword art he had learned under Antigoni while weaving in aether and a bit of that stubborn dark energy.

  You seem excited.

  Perseus stumbled to a stop at the goddess’ interruption. Panting, he swiped sweat off his brow and noticed with surprise that night was approaching.

  Tomorrow, make your choice. I’ll be watching.

  Her presence vanished as well.

  Perseus stood still for a long, silent moment, their veiled threats hanging over him like poisonous clouds, corroding his mood.

  These impossible choices before him. Well, it boiled down to who he feared the most. Or did it?

  Face hardening with determination, he hid his sword in his pocket and made his way back to the school grounds.

  The rest would be waiting.

  “What is this?” Medusa flung the medallion amidst the discussing boys. It bounced off the table before falling to the ground with a metallic thud.

  Akrivi, Lonian and Vyron looked up.

  Akrivi had the audacity to grin. “Chilion must have explained its meaning,” he said, still smiling.

  Head throbbing with the beginning of a headache, Medusa glared at the boys as she fought for composure.

  For the better part of yesterday evening and night, she had laboured at her annexe marking needles. Once she returned to the dorm, she sank into a long, dreamless sleep, only to wake up to that lying next to her head.

  “This may be hard to believe, but there was a vote,” Akrivi said as he turned back to the spread of parchments. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  Medusa's growing anxiety had since killed whatever remained of her appetite. While working on the needles last night, not just her arm, but her entire body, had flickered to her younger appearance. Whatever Clotho did to her necklace was unravelling.

  When she said nothing, Akrivi signalled for one of the whites to bring a meal over. “You'd need a full belly for what—”

  “Why did you do it?” Medusa asked, voice tight with restrained anger.

  Akrivi regarded her with a lifted brow. “Like I said, there was a vote.”

  “A vote?” Medusa’s head grew hot. “You expect me to believe that? You’re playing with my life!”

  “Whoa!” Akrivi raised both hands, appearing confused. “Life? It's not that serious, soft—”

  “But it is. Putting me in front of a crowd? All those eyes on me.” Her anxiety doubled. What if… what if her disguise fails while at it? What if they see her real face? Everything will be over.

  “Take my name off,” she said quietly.

  “I'm afraid that's impossible.” It was Vyron who spoke. “The names of non-random representatives have already been submitted. The goddess should have them by now.”

  Medusa glared at Akrivi. “Did you plan this?”

  He shrugged. “I don't know what you're talking about.” He beamed at the girl who brought the meal and carefully set the plate before Medusa. “Eat.”

  She had half the mind to smack the plate off the table. “You think having me participate will keep me from going alone?”

  Akrivi chuffed but said nothing.

  “What's this about?” Lonian looked between them.

  “I'm also confused,” Akrivi answered as he returned his focus to the parchments spread across the table.

  “I need an explanation!” Her voice, wrapped in aether, blasted through the dining hall.

  Absolute silence reigned, with dogs at other tables looking over and gawking.

  Akrivi muttered something she didn't catch before facing her fully. “Look, as the Reds’ leader, I threw in your name, but so did other post leaders—every single one. Perhaps you should have thought twice before confronting Arke in front of all the dogs. Remember when that happened? Tell me why you wouldn't be picked after such a spectacular display of aether control?” Sarcasm dripped from his words. “Take your blame elsewhere, and while at it, reconsider the foolishness of braving that place alone.”

  Medusa shut her eyes as frustration washed over her.

  He nudged her plate. “And eat. You look like a ghost.”

  Having nothing to say, Medusa sat and quietly forced down her breakfast of gruel but with chunks of chewy, salty meat.

  She listened to their strategy meeting while eating. The first day of the trial was essentially a display of what the best of Demeter’s children were capable of, followed by feasting and diplomatic meetings among the representatives of the schools. The day after covered team-centric games, with players from each house randomly selected to participate.

  Being the medallion holder may not be so bad. If she quickly played her part, there may be enough time to sneak off with the return stone and… she swallowed a groan and rubbed her eyes. Who was she kidding? All that banged in her head was fleeing to the nest and getting this over with.

  “May, are you listening?”

  “Huh?” She looked up from her empty plate and glanced at the boys. They were all looking at her with expectation. “What?”

  “The rules,” Vyron said. “No needles.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You're not to use eternal weapons during the trial.”

  “Oh… I see.” She observed the spread of parchments. It listed the names of all the dogs, accompanied by tiny notes next to each one. “What am I to do?” She only learned that the medallion holder was not only the face of their house but their first representative.

  “I don’t know,” Akrivi said with a shrug. “Came here only six months ago.” He nodded at Vyron. “Leader, how was the last trial?”

  “I heard it changes, so whatever I know may be useless.” He scratched a spot on his head. “One consistent element is beasts. The games themselves change. Never the same. It’s like a tamer version of the Fate of Heroes.”

  Akrivi made a face and looked away.

  Vyron smiled at her, a rare sight. “I’m beginning to think the dogs may make it this time.”

  Medusa said nothing, and even if she wished to give a reply, nothing would come. Her mind was too full of concerns.

  “Is there no way I can forfeit?”

  They shook their heads in unison.

  “Fine.” Medusa sighed. “Do you have a hooded cloak?”

  ***

  The atmosphere was nothing like Medusa expected. The stark change started a reasonable distance from the arena, where a demarcation of sorts began. Passing through it felt like pushing past an invisible wall. First, there was a slight resistance, a ripple, then stepping into the other side.

  “Demeter’s dome,” Vyron offered as they continued forward. “It keeps the rest of the school from outsiders and doubles as a security measure.”

  “I see,” Medusa said as she glanced around. An unexpected number of people and stalls lined the road from left to right, with sellers calling out to buyers in loud voices. She drew in a long breath. That aroma of spiced roast meat. Pity she didn’t have a penny to her name.

  “Aren't you hot?” Akrivi swung an arm over her shoulder and steered her away from an approaching cart. “Why the cloak?”

  “Cause I’m shy,” she replied dryly.

  Akrivi laughed, drawing curious stares from passersby. “I don't know if they'll let you compete with that on.”

  “You never know.” It was a stretch, but Medusa still hoped. It would be disastrous if things went south in the arena. From what she heard, Demeter may not be the only high deity in attendance.

  Medusa watched Lonian haggle with a meat seller before returning with skewers for the four of them. After giving her profuse thanks, she'd barely bitten off a chunk when she heard it.

  The clop of hooves and spinning carriage wheels came from behind. Medusa turned in time to see four dark horses pull a large carriage past a bend and into the wide street. They didn’t slow down; if anything, their speed climbed as people were forced to flee from their path.

  Medusa took in the approaching carriage as it drew closer. It was made of dark wood and large enough to seat eight easily. The red flags mounted at each corner bore a single muscular hand holding an axe within a wreath.

  Though curtains covered the carriage’s windows, she felt it as they drove past. Someone was looking straight at her beyond the window. She couldn’t tell how she knew; she just did.

  Her heart… Why was her heart beating so fast? Clutching the neck of her cloak, she pulled it tighter around her shoulders. What was that? There was no way they recognised her. Or did they?

  She flinched when someone touched her shoulder. “Huh?”

  “You just stood there looking lost.” Akrivi stared after the carriage. “Do you know anyone from Cronus’ Hovel?”

  “Cronus’ Hovel?” Medusa repeated. “I… I don’t.”

  “What does it matter? Come on.” He steered her forward. “I can hear the drums. Let’s go win.”

  As Medusa made her way to the arena, she couldn't shake her wariness. Something felt off.