Called Upon

Chapter 25

       As the old man stood his ground, his heart pounding in his chest, he knew he had to find a way to defeat Medusa without succumbing to her gaze. He remembered his mission: to retrieve the golden pearl hidden deep within the temple. The weight of his purpose fueled his determination, giving him temporary respite from the fear that threatened to consume him.

With every step he took, he consciously averted his gaze, ensuring he never met the eyes of the monstrous Gorgon. He could sense her presence behind him, her sinister presence hanging heavy in the air. The sound of her slithering serpents and the soft hiss of her breath sent chills down his spine, reminding him of the ever-encroaching danger.

In his mind, he envisioned the layout of the temple, recalling the various chambers and hidden passageways he had explored earlier. He understood that his best chance of survival lay in outsmarting Medusa, rather than engaging her directly in combat. He needed a plan, a way to distract her, to buy him the precious moments he required.

And then, as his footsteps echoed through the chamber, the old man's foot landed on a raised fragment of the floor. Time seemed to slow down as a rumbling sound reverberated through the temple. An altar, adorned with intricate carvings and glowing with an ethereal light, emerged from beneath the ground. Resting atop this altar, shimmering with an otherworldly beauty, was the golden pearl he had been tasked to retrieve.

A spark of hope ignited within the old man's heart. The precious artifact gleamed before him, its radiance filling the chamber. The old man knew that the pearl had a power of its own, and perhaps, just perhaps, it could aid him in his struggle against the fearsome Gorgon.

With renewed determination, the old man seized the golden pearl, feeling its weight in his hand. It felt warm and alive, as if pulsating with a divine energy. He knew that he had to keep his focus solely on the pearl, to avoid any accidental glances into Medusa's eyes.

As he took a step forward, running with all his might, Medusa's hissing voice echoed throughout the chamber, filled with both frustration and fury. She was giving chase, her slithering form coiling and uncoiling, her serpents snapping dangerously in the air. The old man could feel her cold breath on his neck, the very embodiment of death itself.

But as he ran, a sudden thought struck him. Perhaps, instead of escaping, he needed to confront Medusa directly. He stopped abruptly, his mind racing as he considered the options before him. If he was to defeat her, he had to make her vulnerable, to catch her off guard.

Summoning every ounce of courage and wisdom, the old man turned back toward Medusa, ensuring that the pearl remained securely clasped in his hand. He moved stealthily, relying on his training and instincts to navigate his way closer to the Gorgon, all the while avoiding her gaze.

Medusa, sensing his presence, hissed ferociously, her eyes searching for him in the darkened chamber. The old man had to be careful, for one wrong move could prove fatal. He moved closer, closer still, his heart pounding in his chest. And then, as he stood just a few feet away from her, he revealed the shimmering golden pearl.

The moment the pearl caught Medusa's attention, her serpent eyes fixed upon the shining artifact. Time seemed to stand still as her monstrous form began to freeze, her slithering halted midway. She thrashed and struggled, desperately trying to avert her gaze, but it was too late. The old man had seized the moment, recognizing the weakness in her own cursed existence.

As Medusa's body slowly turned to stone, the old man watched in awe and relief. The battle was won, the fearsome Gorgon defeated. The golden pearl glowed with intensity, as if celebrating the victory, its radiance casting a brilliant light throughout the chamber, banishing the darkness that had once reigned.

The old man knew that his mission was complete. The golden pearl, retrieved from the clutches of the ancient temple, was now safely in his possession. With a final glance at the now-petrified Medusa, he turned and decided to exit the cursed temple. As he was moving out of the room a glimpse of memory ignited his brain.

He was also tasked to retrieve sacred boxes with divine relics. His heart began to hesitate as he couldn't catch sight of the chest. He searched everywhere, scouring the temple but his endeavor proved futile. He didn't want to repeat this deathen experience. In his protruding moment a memory that stood out from the thousands assured him. One that a sister of fate invented, that the chest may be hidden or no where to be found. He caught a stroke of luck and stood up, his intention to move on.

As he emerged from the temple, the sunlight bathed him in its comforting warmth. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the fresh air that contrasted starkly with the musty scent of aged stones and worn parchments he had left behind. The old man understood that he had faced true darkness and emerged victorious, forever changed by the experience.

And in his possession, the golden pearl continued to gleam, a tangible reminder of his bravery and the power that resided within him. The old man knew that within that shimmering sphere lay more than just a precious artifact – it held the essence of his own resilience and spirit, a testament to the strength of the human soul. In the nick of time, the golden pearl escaped his grasp and flew through the air, defying the laws of gravity. It gleamed with immense radiation until it finally burst, leaving the glorious lights dispersed.