“Are you Master Ares’ secret child?”

  Medusa stumbled to a stop while Clotho laughed in the background.

  “So?” Lysander pressed, eyes expectant and bright with curiosity.

  “I… the red god isn’t my father.” We don’t even look remotely alike.

  Muscular shoulders drooping, she shook her head. “One could only hope. Alright then.” She resumed her trek, long legs eating the distance as Medusa hurried to keep pace through the winding corridors.

  As it turned out, Clotho had contacted Ares immediately after his dramatic exit, and now they were at his domain. After handing her over to Lysander at the gates of his villa, Ares had vanished again. He had been visibly enraged, so much so that the sky was dyed deep red the moment he entered his domain. All through their return, the air around him had been painful to breathe, with his poor horse neighing and foaming at the mouth as it galloped to their destination.

  Both the inside and outside of Ares’ villa were nowhere as grand as her parents’ home in Hesperides. The interior was even more austere, with everything dryly practical, save for the ceiling, which featured stunning frescoed depictions of raging battlefields. Medusa's sharpened senses were all that kept her from walking into walls as she stared at the brutal yet mesmerising images.

  “And you shouldn’t call him the red god.”

  When Medusa said nothing, she glanced her way. “Don't you wish to know why?”

  “Why?” Medusa asked dryly.

  “Ha!” Lysander laughed. “They even behave alike,” she mumbled.

  Medusa occupied herself with taking in more of her surroundings. The walls were painted an uninteresting off-white, and the floor was paved with hardened red terracotta; no vases were in the corners. At least luminescent orbs were lighting the path, but that hardly mattered. Night vision was also part of the perks her time in the monolith’s vein had gifted her, or was it the key that caused the changes? She had yet to test her reflexes in combat, not with the Moirai worried about her constantly flaring aether.

  They finally stopped in front of an ordinary wooden door. Lysander opened it with a flourish and waved Medusa in.

  “All yours.”

  Medusa took in the simple bedroom. That mouldy smell of abandonment was absent, and every surface appeared free of dust. In the corner was a chair and desk, and the bed across was wide enough to fit three people comfortably.

  “It has an attached bath. Soaps and kunca fleece have also been provided along with the uniforms we use for training.”

  Medusa spotted the uniform in question on the bed. Were those metal fittings?

  “Though it’s a bit late, I can ask the kitchen to prepare something. We eat in a general area on the ground floor.”

  Medusa shook her head, still looking around. “I’ll wait for breakfast. Please, extend my thanks to the re— to Ares.”

  Lysander chuckled. “How old did you say you were again?”

  “Fifteen.” At least that's the age she resembled, judging from her new face.

  “Fifteen, huh?” She peered at Medusa as the mirth in her eyes vanished. “Then why do you seem older?” Cocking her head, she observed her some more. “Tell me, have you killed a person before?”

  “Several.” Better to rip off the band-aid early.

  Eyes subtly widening, she nodded slowly. “That's…better for everyone involved.” Her bright smile flashed into appearance once more. “I heard you will face the contender Athena wishes to force upon master Ares.” She patted Medusa’s shoulder. “Show no mercy, and kill them to teach Athena a lesson.”

  Seeming satisfied with her instruction, she turned smartly, bade Medusa a good rest and left.

  Clotho winked into sight the moment Medusa shut the door. “It’s affecting you.”

  “What’s affecting me?” Medusa released Rico from her dimension, smiling down at him as he blinked sleepy eyes open. “Were you lonely in there?” she asked, speaking in soft motherese. “I'm sorry, Rico.”

  He yawned in response before wiggling out of her arms. His now sharper claws snagged her toga as he crawled up her shoulder, sniffing the air as he went.

  Clotho settled in the only other chair in the room and placed her staff on the low table before her. “The key is affecting you.”

  Frowning, Medusa looked within herself to check the words of the Moirai. The key was dormant, like it had been since they left Tartarus. Her fingers and toes were in perfect form. She wiggled them just to be certain. Except for the occasional flaring of her unstable aether, she felt fantastic, on top of the world even.

  “I feel fine.” Medusa walked over to the desk and pulled the drawers open. Blank scrolls and feathered pens. Nothing else.

  A fancy glass decanter appeared with a clatter. Clotho opened it and poured a generous amount into her goblet. “How are your emotions?”

  “My emotions are stable.” For the first time in a while, which was a relief.

  Rico hopped onto the desk as she settled in her chair. There was a driving need to pen down her next line of action, anything to chase away the feeling of being tossed about by the wind of the Moirai. After retrieving a scroll, she spread it open and began writing in English.

  Akrivi. She asterisked his name and scribbled ‘last option’ next to it, then added ‘doors’. Maybe portals? She crossed off ‘doors’ and wrote ‘portal’.

  How best to kill deities? Heart? Brain? She wrote and circled ‘impossibly fast’.

  “... you aren’t listening.”

  Medusa lifted her eyes. “Sorry. Can you repeat that?”

  Clotho sighed. “For someone who will be standing before Zeus in a month, you are oddly relaxed about it.”

  “Am I?” Medusa scribbled ‘eyes’ next to Zeus. “I’m actually terrified.” But for some reason, the fact that she was terrified was separate from her decision to find an alternative escape route. Just in case. It wouldn't harm to have a second option. And judging from how unreliable the Moirai's foresight was recently, it only made sense.

  “From what I saw in Prometheus’ thread when he found the key, his personality changes were subtle at first. Over time, it grew and became… something else.”

  Medusa stopped writing at the mention of his name. Frowning, she gave weight to the Moirai’s words. Now that she thought of it, the grief of losing Athonii remained, but around it was a convenient dome of logic she couldn't recall setting up.

  “Odd.”

  “What’s odd?”

  “Nothing,” Medusa said, finding it easy to disregard concerns about the key. I'm fine for the first time in a long time. What's not to like?

  Deciding to move on to more important matters, she asked, “How do you move like that?”

  Instead of answering, Clotho held her gaze, brow bunched in what appeared to be worry. Finding her sharp focus too invasive, Medusa sought out Rico, watching as he zoomed across the room like a restless cat. I should get him a toy.

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  Get Rico a toy. Then she scribbled Clotho's travel method important under that and underlined ‘important’.

  Clotho finally looked away with another sigh, sounding resigned. “Be specific. What movement?” She asked before rhythmically clicking her tongue, causing Rico to bound into her arms.

  How did she do that?

  “One moment we were in Tartarus and the next we were in Olympus,” Medusa said, frowning when Rico melted in Clotho's arms as she swept her hand down his back. “I thought we needed doors for that.”

  “We needed doors because you were more or less an ordinary mortal then.”

  And I’m not now? The usual panic that came with the thought of being anything but mortal was absent. “That doesn’t answer the question, though.”

  “When I said I wasn't a deity, I meant it. Such travel is the least of my abilities.” She took another sip from her cup as she scratched the back of Rico’s ears.

  Medusa’s brow twitched in annoyance when Rico purred. “But I’m curious.”

  “Hmmm.” The Moirai touched her chin, appearing to contemplate her words.

  From last night’s disaster, it was clear that the Moirai’s foresight was flawed. Either that or she was excellent at pretending incompetence for a hidden goal. Medusa's frown deepened at the thought.

  “So you wish to learn trans-domain travel?”

  Medusa sat straighter, nodding. “Is that what it’s called?”

  “That’s what I call it. Deities can’t use it… Well, except Zeus. Speaking of which,” her gaze slid to Medusa as she continued petting Rico, “we must begin to find traces of the monolith. The sooner you find its veins, the faster we fix this mess.”

  Medusa raised a brow at that. “I thought the creator shielded the monolith's existence from you.” Clotho had helped her too much to be this blatant about her doubts, but it was better to put it out there that she was suspicious of the Moirai’s interest in the Monolith.

  If the creator kept the location of the monolith from the sisters, then wouldn’t it be foolish to lead one of them straight to it? She found herself peering more deeply at the Moirai's help so far. Finding the Monolith may have been her plan from the start, seeing that she knew the future to an extent.

  Medusa voiced her suspicion. “Are you using me to locate it?”

  “You think we haven’t tried to find the Monolith in the past?” Clotho shook her head as she patted a now dozing Rico. “Finding it is the easiest solution to our problem.”

  “So why didn’t you?”

  “I told you before, yes? My sisters and I can’t interact with the Monolith. Even if it appeared directly in front of us, we wouldn't see it, much less control it to our benefit.” Clotho clicked her tongue as she morosely stared into her cup. “Yet, even now, we are affected by its powers. Quite humbling, no?”

  “… I see.” Though doubt remained, Medusa fell silent. Since there was nothing she could do to know if the Moirai was being honest, she discarded her worry.

  “So,” Clotho flashed a knowing grin, her sadness seeming to vanish as if it had never been present, “regarding what you were asking about my trans-domain travel. You plan to kill Poseidon on the day of the Fate of Heroes and vanish, yes?”

  Medusa froze, then spluttered, “How-how did you… Did you read my notes?”

  Clotho tutted as she tapped her temple, a smirk playing on her lips. “I know my foresight may seem flawed, but I see things. Possibilities upon possibilities. In your case, you attempt to kill Poseidon but make things infinitely worse for your parents.”

  “I was…” Medusa’s gaze dropped to the scroll. “I am still working on the plan—” A sudden realisation struck. “But it doesn't make sense. If I attack Poseidon with a false appearance, how does that connect to my parents?”

  “I don't know. Also wondered the same.” Clotho huffed, appearing annoyed. “I keep seeing that Zeus, for some reason, is suspicious of you. No matter what face you wear, his eyes follow you in the games. And after you attempt to kill Poseidon, he punishes your parents with a cruelty too dark to be imagined.”

  Medusa released an incredulous laugh as her heart sank. “Of course.” Why was she not surprised? These… these blights would never stop tormenting me. A complete eradication was what was needed.

  “But, I agree with your plan to take out Poseidon first. There may be a way…”

  “Oh.” A bit of the tightness around her gut loosened. “There is?”

  Clotho nodded, eyes turning vacant as she stared ahead. “But Poseidon will never stand still, readily allowing his life to be taken.” She shook her head as her voice lowered. “And Zeus... he sees, and the Monolith shields him.”

  Blinking, her gaze returned to focus. Emptying her cup, she waved in a go-on motion. “Make your plans and follow them.”

  “Huh? I thought—”

  “And I will teach you how to travel like I do.”

  Medusa wasn't so sure she was comfortable with the mischievous glint in Clotho's eyes, but she was excited nonetheless.

  “You mean it? You really will teach me?”

  “Of course.” Clotho waved the decanter and goblet out of sight. “Your victory is my victory.”

  “Ummm… thank you?” Medusa warily ticked the portal part of her plan as the corner of her lips kicked up. “When do we start?”

  ***

  Are's new contender was seated in the middle of his training hall, legs folded, eyes covered, and red hair whipping about as if snatched by a fierce wind. A little to the left, water bubbled over the rim of the basin, the stone it held glowing brightly as it resonated with the densely packed aether flaring around the girl.

  No matter how Ares looked at it, she was neither a blood-carrier nor a low deity. Just what had the Moirai brought to his domain?

  Did you change her hair colour for your amusement? Forgive me for saying this, but it's in poor taste.

  The Moirai chuckled. So now you wish to speak to me? Has your rage cooled? Is it because of the fine weather this morning?

  Ares drew in a breath and released it slowly. It had taken a lot to keep his curse at bay, with a part of its effect leaking out when Athena did what she did. Hearing the Moirai’s instruction soon after leaving the Ritual had worsened his rage. After nearly a month of silence, a dead contender and the mess at Drys Valon, she returned, laughing about appearing in the nick of time to support his false claim of having a contender.

  And this one wouldn't break so easily.

  It would seem my emotions are still a mess. Ares massaged the bridge of his nose, mentally exhausted from beating down that rabid dog of a curse. My curse raged all through the night.

  Ah. But blue tears helped, yes?

  Ares nodded; it did make a difference. Usually, an eruption like this would take days or a whole month before he returned to his usual self.

  The girl began to sweat profusely, and her heartbeat—!

  Ares flashed forward, extending a hand to rip off the blindfold.

  Stop!

  Why? Ares asked, confused. Her heartbeat was growing faint. She’s dying.

  She’s not, the Moirai replied casually.

  The stone basin glowed even brighter as the aether around her fanned out and warmed his face. What’s this oddity you brought to my domain?

  The Moirai laughed. That’s Phorcys’ child.

  “How…” Ares’ arm fell to his side. “I thought she died.” I saw her corpse. Confirmed her wounds.

  I have my ways, she answered, tone smug.

  He looked at the girl with new eyes. Not a single similarity between this appearance and the former. This wasn’t the atmosphere he sensed from other gods. What occurred between the last time he saw her and now?

  What happened to her?

  She would need frequent triggers.

  How’s that an answer? Ares sighed internally as he settled into one of the benches lining the wall. Triggers?

  Her emotions may grow numb if we don’t do that.

  Forgive me, but isn't this similar to the affliction of new deities? Ares did not want to believe that was the case. There were specific steps that must be taken for a blood-carrier to shed mortality, so how did she skip those steps? Or was she an immortal all along? No. The two times he encountered her, she was clearly mortal.

  I can understand your confusion, but this is something different. And know that Zeus’ depraved methods were not applied to bring about what you see.

  The girl flinched as blood trickled down her nostrils and stained her toga.

  Don’t worry about that, the Moirai hurried to say. She’s fine.

  She soon stopped bleeding, but her heartbeat continued to grow even fainter.

  Is it… still possible? Ares asked after a stretch of silence. Can she stop this unending nightmare?

  Ares. Ares. Ares. There was fondness in the Moirai’s voice. If the others discover what you wish upon them, a war may rip through Olympus.

  Ares shrugged. What’s war that I should fear it?

  But this war will be different. The shift to grave finality in her voice was jarring.

  What’s it this time? He steeled himself, ready for the bad news.

  It’s even worse than the beginning.

  Ares’ heart dropped, but he forced a smile. Surely it is not as bad.

  I do not need to lie to you, child. Her tone had grown even graver. This time, even the Grecian continent would not be spared.

  Ares frowned, confused. Since the beginning, Zeus never harvested the continent like he did the rest. I don’t understand.

  His harvest will cover the entirety of Cosmolith. Over a billion will die, the Moirai said, voice low and grim.

  Ares released a mirthless laugh. Of course, it had to be the worst possibility there was.

  But I plan to use any means, including a child’s blind revenge, to weaken the other side before war comes.

  Thought I should share an interesting part of Ares' legend.

  Among Zeus and Hera's four kids, Zeus despised Ares the most, but Hera loved him; in fact, he was her favourite child.

  Then he decided to set a trap to catch them in the act. He made an unbreakable net over the bed, and when Ares and Aphrodite went about their affair, the net trapped them. Hephaestus proceeded to parade them naked, with the breeze touching places it shouldn't. The gods watched and laughed.

  Ares and Aphrodite didn't learn nothin' cause no shame in the world was enough to tear them apart; they continued their affair.