Hell Is An Empty Heart (Book One of The Triple Moon's Chronicles)

53 | Defied Gravity In Its Most Precarious Way

The men of Zeus chased Poseidon out of Mount Olympus, but the latter changed his course and had them follow him into Mount Othrys.

The Mycenaeans, living in the light of Helios, under the strength of Atlas, who held the sky, or simply by the name of their bloody regent Queen Rhea, still shudder at the mention of the Titans.

Despite their reign ending and their members being scattered, the ravaged Mount Othrys remained as the relic of their long-gone glory. Each broken temple still emitted a haunting smell of Ambrosia, and each standing pillar perched as a symbol of might, while each door now stood as an arch leading to nothingness.

Whatever was left alive, from the banished male Titans to the forcefully enslaved Titanides, defied gravity in its most precarious way.

The voice of a guard bounced over those vestiges. "By order of Zeus, you need to evacuate his realm."

A breeze blew over the ruins, and among them was a voice rising from the ashes. "Say who?"

Its tone was a solid residue of those whom Zeus' pride had used, his wrath punished, and his lust had shamed, yet it sounded honeyed in combustible material. The abandoned sepulchre was still a beacon of hope to those who had resisted the Olympian rule of Zeus, and it was with that same wronged intensity that she repeated her threat louder.

The guards darted about, seeing no one, but holding on to their swords, their backs united to create a human shield shaped like a star. A sneer shot through the air at their actions, and then a shadow descended from the sky, her spear's tip aimed directly at one of the guards' eyes.

"Go back to your well-seated king and tell him we obey no one here!" And with this, she finally appeared to them, piercing the iris of her chosen victim in one swift move before disarming the rest of them. As she stood back on her feet again with her crimson weapon retrieved, her head deprived them of the light of the sun, and she curled one side of her lips up. "This is Mount Othrys, not Mount Olympus!"

The trembling guards hauled away their wounded comrade, leaving Poseidon's mysterious saviour to remove her helm. At her revealed face, Poseidon rushed to take the woman into his arms, but she shoved him aside, brandishing her dagger at him instead.

"Celeano, it's me."

Celeano was indeed her name. She was one of Atlas's banished daughters, living now amidst Mount Othrys' ruins. She built herself an entire home from broken furniture while pregnant with her misbegotten twin sons, Lytos and Nykteus. With Ambrosia, whom she had to steal, Celeano raised them on her own until they reached their coming of age, when they left her to live in the mortal realm.

Yet Celeano's womanhood journey wasn't over. Because a nymph on her own was the easiest target for anyone with sinful thoughts, she taught herself how to fight as she crafted the armour she was now taking off. "You never come to see me without guilt in your heart. So, Poseidon, why are you here this time?"

With a smile, Poseidon approached her again and wrestled the dagger out of her hand to throw it away. "Alcyone couldn't stand my sight, but you, you always welcomed me, and just now you saved me. I need to know why."

Sighing, Celeano shook her head. "I suppose you had wasted your time, if you had come all this way to ask me this."

"Shouldn't you have handed me over to those guards for the wrong I committed against you?"

At his question, she crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side. "What have you done again, Poseidon?"

After the purge of Demeter, the Mortals World was still under the threat of another divine curse: a being so lonely that it could only look and talk at frozen statues; a hurt woman who only left behind her a trail of tears until she had reached the home of the Gorgons; a monster created by Athena herself to punish men for Poseidon's own sin.

They were the only beings immune to her damnation, but even among the winged demons, Medusa was still alone. She didn't belong to their kind, like Athena assured her. The mortal woman in her was still grieving, and her bitterness only grew sour as she was now trapped in the body of a living calamity.

Far away in a forest, her reign of terror grew to the pleasure of her new sisters. Medusa sang from the most beautiful of all the voices; she bathed and danced on her naked, damaged body to whoever dared to look.

Not knowing who had wronged her or who could still be after her, she lured as many as she could, then turned any of them into marble. She captured them in an expression of fear—the same one that was forever left on her face and on the many life-size human sculptures with in the wood of her new home. The mortals recoiled at this place, but it was the best clue for Poseidon and Celeano to find Medusa.

Celeano begged Poseidon to leave Medusa at once, but he was adamant about meeting his unfortunate sufferer, as if words could mend his wrong.

After spending several days in the woods, it wasn't until late at night that he eventually came across flames in front of a cave. Only Poseidon recalled her golden locks—those that were now coiled into a nest of snakes—over her feeble back. Medusa was weeping; she had forever cried since Athena rejected her for this life of misery.

Scraping his hands through his hair, Poseidon asked, "Should I come to her?"

Celeano rolled her eyes. "For the hundredth time, no." Poseidon shot at her with a blank stare in answer, causing her to click her tongue. "You swore to me we are only coming to see what she has become!"

As he furrowed his brows, Poseidon's voice broke. "I know." But that was a lie; he was ready to approach Medusa when Celeano stabbed his back with her spear. Shrieking in pain, Poseidon turned back to face her.

"I need to make things right!"

Retrieving her spear from his injury, Celeano clenched her jaw. "I'm sorry, I can't let you do this!"

Poseidon healed instantly with only a bloodstain left on his hand, like the memory of the wrong he caused Medusa, and he stared at it, confused, until Celeano snapped her fingers in front of his face. "From what you said to me, she didn't see your face, and neither did you."

Poseidon nodded his head.

"Just look at her, Poseidon." Celeano pointed her finger at Medusa's shivering shadow. "She cried because she doesn't know what has happened to her. She doesn't know you, and you didn't know her. If you go to her now and explain everything, what good do you think it will do for her?"

Poseidon threw his hands in the air and hurriedly said, "Then I should just walk off and let her kill as many men as it fits her anger on me."

Placing her hands on Poseidon's arms, Celeano pressed her lips flat. "There is a reason Athena did what she did." She paused. "You may not see it like I do, but I get it. She wants Medusa to be the saviour to all those women who have suffered from the same ordeal as herself." With a sniff, Celeano ceased her words and wiped some tears from her eyes. "And yes, I would walk off because no matter what I would do or say, it wouldn't take her pain away."

Hearing a rustle from the discussions unfolding behind her, Medusa's face turned back with a smile, ready to turn her visitors into stone, but as soon as she crept closer, there was no one there. Poseidon and Celeano had both escaped in extremis from the deadly sight of the monster.