The Sixth Life of Medusa

5. A Prayer For Death

All the while Medusa made her way up the elevated slope to her family villa, she considered her encounter with Clotho from every conceivable angle.

The paved stone ground beneath her bare feet was warm from the early morning sun, and her muscles were screaming from fatigue. Walking uphill after speed swimming to and fro the length she did was no small task. That her ten-year-old body managed to maintain a steady pace had more to do with her stubborn will and the need to punish herself.

Antonii was dead because of her. Just yesterday, he had suggested they move.

Was that death's warning? Could Antonii already sense the end? Though a mortal, he possessed an air of percipient mystery that Medusa could never make sense of. Whenever she mentioned it, he would laugh and say, "I'm a regular man. Ten fingers. Ten toes."

What an agonising waste. Antonii deserved life, unlike her. Medusa hugged herself and bit the inside of her lower lip.

Bear it down. You must bear it down.

And what was that strange power Medusa manifested at the cliff? Clotho did not answer when she asked. Instead, the goddess had instructed her to return home and visit the cave around the same time the next day.

Shutting her eyes, Medusa released a long breath.

There was a way to kill gods.

It was still hard to digest. This opportunity was even better than ending her life. Though Clotho said she should focus on survival, the knowledge that gods could die was enough to give Medusa some relief.

Whatever it took, she would do it. Whatever the sacrifice, she would give it. Only after giving her all would she be able to face Antonii when death finally came for her.

"Medusa," called a panicked voice from ahead.

A stocky woman in an off-white himation garment hurried down the steep paved way. As she drew closer, Medusa recognised her as one of the household servants. Her name was Galene, if she remembered correctly, and in Medusa's first life, she had been in charge of overseeing the servants who looked after her.

Medusa neither liked nor disliked the woman.

"Where have you been?" Galene's eyes widened when she took in Medusa's state. She turned her this way and that. "Why are you barefoot? Did you go swimming? And so early? You made us worry. Half the servants were searching for you."

Medusa said nothing. To hell with pretending to be a ten-year-old. The only time she would ever use that card was when it benefited her. At the moment, it did not. Walking around Galene, Medusa resumed her trek. She tensed up when the servant lifted her and began huffing up the side steps.

"We have to hurry and wash you up before the masters have their breakfast. Have you forgotten it's your birthday?" There was a concerned note in Galene's voice.

The irony of returning to her first life in the month of the peacock. There would be a pretentious birthday breakfast with Medusa's parents present.

Every year before Medusa was sent to Athena's temple, she met her parents no more than five times. The encounters were always superficial, but her previous naive self had treasured every moment.

"Please, do not run off like this. You made me worry." Galene's hold tightened across Medusa's back.

Medusa stared ahead, vision bouncing with Galene's hurried gait. The servant smelled faintly of tallow, and her dark hair was held in a thick braid that swayed between her masculine shoulders.

Trying to recall how she acted around servants was tiring so Medusa gave up on that. Her encounter with them had been shallow at best, and she would make no effort to change that this time. As for her parents, her memory was intact, and it was those memories she could use to manipulate them to her benefit.