Medusa discretely observed the four warriors. They were massive, each standing at least six feet tall with multiple fearsome battle scars.
She had never witnessed them in actual combat, only ceremonial rituals where weapons clashed with no intent to kill. Cuauhua was different, though. As a fellow archer, she was very much aware of his skill. His accuracy was inhuman, and, just like her, he knew the forest.
I must run. I have to run.
Heart racing, she took measured breaths in preparation and stole another glance at the warriors. Cuauhua didn’t have an arrow nocked, and the rest stood at ease. She was smaller and lighter than them, so outspeeding should be possible. And the best time to flee was now. If the rain fell harder, visibility would be ruined.
Sucking in a breath, Medusa shot to her feet and zig-zagged for the forest. The wind and thin sheets of rain battered her face as she kept her upper body lowered and pushed forward with gritted teeth.
It felt off. She had grown used to manipulating aether to boost her movement, and now her current speed felt pathetic. Soon the sound of pounding footfalls reached her ears. What sort of diabolical reaction speed…?
Biting back a frustrated cry, she veered down a hidden trail only she used. Though it was difficult weaving past trees, leaping over rotting logs and taking welts to the face from low-hanging branches, she pressed on.
Her foot slid over an exposed root and she stumbled forward, narrowly escaping crashing head-first to the ground.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Running through the forest with hands tied was a stupid move. And her speed heavily reduced the deeper she went. More stumbling. The muddy ground sucked at her cactli-clad feet with each step and her wrists were on fire.
She wasn't sure if it was the terror of getting caught or reality, but she could still hear the pounding footsteps.
They're going to catch me. They'll rip my heart out. I'm going to die.
Soon, it no longer mattered how well she knew the forest, running became impossible. When her trail ended, her sense of direction faded the farther she went.
Hiding was another option, but Cuauhua may easily find her. They had explored these forests when they were younger. Even now, he may be watching from a perfect vantage point, preparing to shoot her down.
And what was that her curse said about aether spots? So far, she had sensed nothing.
Thwack!
Medusa’s heart liquefied when an arrow pierced the tree next to her head.
He’s here!
Her suspicion had been correct; Cuauhua was on her tail. Any moment now, an arrow may pierce her skull. Panic ballooned and pulverised what remained of her sense of direction.
Moving on instinct, she swerved off her path and took a sharp right. She took a second turn to her left, weaving past trees and pressing forward to where? Nothing seemed familiar anymore and the fitness she possessed in her former lives was absent. Her pants were loud in her ears and it felt like every breath charred the inside of her lungs. At this rate, she'd die of exhaustion before they get her.
Where's the damn aether spot?
She leapt away in alarm when something slithered past her leg. A snake?
In that moment of fright and confusion, it happened.
A sudden tearing pain.
First, Medusa was hurled forward from the force of the hit. Her shoulder struck a tree as white-hot pain flared outward from a spot just below her left rib cage.
Hissing, tears misted her vision as a sudden wave of dizziness came. Something weighed her down, and when she looked, she blinked in a stupor.
Ah... they got me.
Blood dripped from the obsidian tip of the spear and splattered on dead leaves and earth. Leaning heavily against the tree, she slid down its rough back with a drawn-out groan.
Blinking hard to dispel the dizziness, she bleakly looked around. Still no aether spot. Had the curse lied? It didn't seem like it.
It no longer drizzled. No sound of birds; they must have fled. There was the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. Stray drops of rain hit her face as she sat there exposed.
I'm surrounded.
The first to emerge was one of the two spear-wielding warriors. He must have been the one who shot her down.
“Why did you run? Now look.” He sounded mildly annoyed and barely out of breath. These bloody machines.
Medusa looked at his face. There was not a glimpse of mercy or hate in his black eyes. Cold detachment... yeah, that was it. A warrior merely attending to a tedious duty.
Would Cuauhua have the same look?
Another groan escaped as her pain intensified. Blood bubbled up her throat and nose, spilling out.
“Ugh…” This light-headedness.
Should I rip off the blindfold? But my arms are tied. More thoughts filtered in and out, some detached and others urgent. What's a blindfold? Aether spots! I'm tired. How am I here?
Another warrior appeared, his club held ready and face tight with rage. He began spilling curses as he pointed at Medusa with his weapon, asking the first warrior why she hadn't been shot down earlier.
Biting cold racked Medusa’s body. Since escaping was futile, waiting for death was the next logical move. She marvelled at how trusting she had become, to believe so easily that if she died here it wasn’t the end. She would have patted herself on the back if her hands were free.
Eyes rolling, she gazed at the canopy of high leafy branches above. I should have done this the first time. This death is blissful compared to the other option.
The third warrior casually strolled in with his spear resting behind his neck and arms hooked over it like a scarecrow.
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He said something about Cuauhua Medusa didn't catch.
More excruciating wheezing breaths. It was getting harder to keep her eyes open. Black was beginning to bleed into her vision.
She jolted as if awakened from a short slumber. The men were still arguing, and Cuauhua was nowhere in sight. Odd.
It was then Medusa noticed it, a green shine from the corner of her eyes. Dragging her attention to the left, she blinked repeatedly as she struggled to focus. At least twenty meters ahead was an aether spot. At the centre of a perfect circle of green light, which faded as it rose, hovered a transparent aether stone, just inches above the ground.
Laughter slipped past her lips, triggering a racking wet cough. The perfect luck to find it when her immobile body was already showing signs of slipping into shock. She wanted to yell at the men to be done with their argument and do the needful. If she were to die now, she could attempt tracing her steps. Though she didn’t know the number of aether spots scattered across—
An arrow whistled past her ear and stabbed the foot of the first warrior. Another followed after, piercing his forehead and bursting out the back. He fell with a crash, neck twisting at an odd angle and dead eyes staring straight at Medusa.
Huh?
One of the warriors yelled a warning but it came too late. The warrior wielding a club was the next to fall, an enraged cry dying on his lips as an arrow shot straight through his temples.
Medusa took in the scene in a haze of disbelief.
Cuauhua. This was his doing. The shots were too clean.
The last warrior, eyes wide and expression twisted in a sneer, yelled something about a mute bastard before flinging his spear towards the trees ahead. Cuauhua’s arrows were faster. One pierced his throat mid-throw and the second stabbed his heart.
The smell of blood mixed with the foliage and worsened Medusa’s nausea.
Why would Cuauhua do this? Now that she thought of it, this was what her curse expected her to do. Coldly kill them before they kill her.
The sound of a thud and then approaching footsteps reached her ears. Medusa remained where she sat, resisting the urge to turn and look. He wouldn’t kill her, right? That time his arrow hit the tree next to her head, he would have killed her but didn't.
He hunkered before her and took in her wound with an expert gaze. Not a hint of emotion, nothing to show why he did what he did or that he was sad she was dying.
“Why?” Even though it was a chore to speak, Medusa was dying to know.
Between his teeth were leaves possessing a blood clotting effect. He chewed on them as he went about cutting her binds.
"Say something, dammit,” she choked out.
They had been close before he turned fifteen and joined the ranks of warriors. That he coolly killed his three comrades to save an old friend on the brink of death made zero sense.
Not that she expected him to give an eloquent reply. The wound he sustained in battle four years ago made speaking a struggle. Her gaze fell on the jagged, poorly healed scar across his throat, and she scowled.
She didn't need this. Getting to the aether spot was all that mattered.
Spitting the green paste onto his hand, he attempted to apply it to her wound but she slapped his hand away.
“Tell me why.” Medusa huffed past bloody lips.
“Be…behave.” The word came out scratchy and stilted. He offered her the leather sling of his quiver and motioned for her to bite down.
Too exhausted to resist, she did as he said and nearly died from boiling agony as he broke the ends of the spear and applied the paste.
"You…” More panting. “You should let me die." As much as a part of her felt some relief that someone in this life cared enough to risk it all for her sake, she couldn't look past the foolishness of his actions.
"You will be branded a traitor." He was the son of a high chief, his sister, who loathed Medusa, was one of the favoured wives of the emperor, and despite his speech impediment, he was an eagle—an elite level in the empire’s warrior ranks. "Go. Please, go. I'm already dead."
Silence.
“Lo…” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Look at… me.”
Frowning at the odd request, Medusa did as he asked.
He looked exactly as she remembered him. As a top warrior, he wore his hair long, a handsome face and tattoos showcasing his battle victories. But his eyes, though… for the briefest moment his stoical veil slipped. Like a window opening and quickly closing, she glimpsed his soul.
Glimpsing his soul was the only explanation Medusa could give the experience—like seeing a person's true appearance; and what she saw chilled her to her bones.
Had the blood loss stolen her sanity? "You…who are you?"
He frowned, appearing puzzled by her question.
What she was thinking had to be a lie—some wicked trick. Never before had she been more confused yet certain of a thing. But she needed to hear him say it. “Tell me.”
Her dizziness was worsening.
His puzzled look shifted to worry. He reached for her but she tried to turn away. Her body would not obey her command to move, and the clotting paste wasn’t helping, if anything she felt bloated. She was swelling with her blood.
This time when he reached for her, she was incapable of resisting. As her body sped to death, every attempt to speak was ignored. She stubbornly clutched the question burning in her mind as her ability to remain awake slipped away.
Her sense of hearing faded. Someone carried her, but even that feeling faded too. Though her eyes were open, her vision blurred and darkness soon replaced light.
Medusa blinked her eyes open.
On her knees again. The dead child ahead. Her mother’s voice behind. So this was the million deaths the curse spoke of. But there was something else on her mind, a question she had tenaciously held on to as death took her.
Eyes snapping up, she met Cuauhua’s flat gaze. Leaping forward, she threw her weight into the bodyslam and sent them both crashing to the ground.
“It’s you!” She couldn’t explain why she was shouting or the stupid tears. “It’s you, isn’t it.” Her voice cracked with desperate hope. “Antonii?”
Someone snatched her by the back of the neck. She kicked and screamed as she held on to that glimpse she saw.
My eyes did not deceive me. I know what I saw.
They slammed her to the ground, the side of her face flaring with hot pain and blood flooding her mouth, but she did not care. She called for Antonii even as he remained on his back, looking at her with confusion. The hand holding her down slipped and she grabbed the opportunity.
Twisting around, she sank her teeth in, biting hard and tugging until her gums hurt. Whoever held her down snatched their hand away with a shout and kicked her. The pain barely registered.
Leaping to her feet again, she rushed to his side, unable to speak past the weeping.
I saw… I know what I saw. Please. When she drew closer, he flinched away and stood up. Though there wasn’t judgment in his eyes, he looked at her like one watching a friend take leave of their senses.
“It’s me. May. Remember?” When she sensed someone approaching from behind, she whipped around. “STAY AWAY FROM ME!”
Her mind was unravelling. This panic and bitter hope. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe what she saw—NO.
She turned to face him, tears blurring her sight as she begged him to remember. Remember what? I’m the insane person here. Yet she hoped.
“No need to take her to the templo mayor.” It was the priest who spoke. “It seems Filth Eater has devoured her senses.”
Medusa glanced behind. Her mother looked at her with the same old shame, but now it was mixed with shock and disgust.
“I…” She turned to Cuauhua, her plea dying on her lips.
This was a mistake. She should have kept her suspicion to herself. After all, what she saw may have been a lie. This was training, a space created by Ares and her curse. Perhaps, her hidden desire found a way to manifest.
“Kill her,” the priest said. The command didn’t sting as much as how quickly Cuauhua nocked his arrow in obedience.
Unable to look, she shut her eyes and waited and waited. Why wasn’t he shooting? She opened her eyes only to see his widen in alarm. He took a step forward and froze.
The same explosive pain as the time the spear pierced her. Whoever stabbed her stumped between her shoulder blades and harshly dislodged their weapon.
Falling forward, Medusa watched the earth drink her blood. But amidst the flooding pain, she couldn’t stop thinking about that hesitation when he should have shot her down.
Maybe…
Blinking bleary eyes, Medusa made up her mind. Since hysteria didn’t work, logic was the next option. When she opens her eyes in the next loop, she'd focus on the aether spots, finish this accursed task and get answers from her curse.
You’re being delusional.
I know what I saw. Medusa crushed the voice of descent as hope birthed crazed determination. She’d do anything at this point—anything to chase this possibility.
Blinked and it was Saturday and everything but editing was snatching my attention.
One of the distractions? How about I quickly watch the latest episode of Solo Leveling and—BOOM! One episode, ten million reaction videos and a trillion comments read later. My self-control was battered in a corner.??
People who relate? Anybody?
Big ups to the reader who dropped a rating some days back. You're the best for making this author smile.
What do you think concerning Medusa's hunch about Antonii?
