The Sixth Life of Medusa

13. Gates with Eyes

They had used at least six portal doors so far. Between the doors, they travelled by foot, and even though the people in the small towns and villages they passed paid them no mind, the feeling of being exposed wouldn't leave Medusa.

Now they made their way to a lone temple atop a foggy uninhabited hill. From what Clotho explained, this was the northern border of the Grecian continent where one of the four doors that led to Tartarus was located.

Sighing, Medusa stuck her hand in her satchel and scratched Rico at the back of his ear. He purred and shifted in his sleep.

Sweat trickled down her back as she huffed up the stone steps. They were more than halfway there. Each step was a step closer to Tartarus, and it worsened her terror.

But she must do this. Last night, her sleep was tormented with nightmares of Antonii's death, and following the torment was the day of her death in her first life. Perseus had managed to murder her twice. Such persistent hate was almost commendable. Even now she could feel the cold steel of his sword against her neck.

Has Athena gifted Perseus that accursed sword? Where was he now? Perhaps, somewhere wetting his weapon with the blood of beasts as the goddess throws multiple happenstance benefits his way.

Too slow. I'm too slow and weak. My hate is not strong enough. I am forgetting my rage. If I could—

"Beyond that door are the gates to Tartarus." Clotho's staff tapped against the stone path in time with her measured steps. "Our journey is almost at its end."

Medusa gulped as she blinked at the swirling gold embroidery lining the hem of Clotho's robe. The goddess was an odd one. Unlike other deities, she barely showed awe-inspiring abilities. No element manipulation. No teleportation. No mumbled words in Theos tongue to banish Medusa's burning fatigue.

But even though Medusa burned with curiosity about why Clotho was the way she was, she checked herself.

It was strange enough that when Medusa woke in the middle of the night before, the goddess was wide awake. She was seated in a meditative position, eyes blazing with light and tears tracking down her face. Medusa had quietly turned away, hugged Rico and forced herself back to sleep.

Finally, they reached the temple. It was even more rundown than it appeared from afar. There were toppled stone pillars about, and climbing vines clung to the temple's crumbling stone walls. The only thing that stood out with a polished shine was the handle on the ancient wooden door.

"I wouldn't ask if you are ready," Clotho said. There was a glint of enjoyment in her downturned eyes.

Heart thumping, Medusa clenched her clammy fingers as she waited. The transfer happened the instant the goddess twisted the door's handle.

When Medusa regained her sight, she found herself standing in a vast arid plain and ahead stood the tallest gates she had ever seen. They had to be at least a hundred feet tall and appeared to be made of brass. The second thing that snagged her attention was the twin depictions of cyclops on their surface. The intricacy of the carving made it seem like their eye was alive and staring straight at her.

She shivered despite the harsh heat of the sun and took a step back only to bump into Clotho.

"Be calm." The goddess rested a hand on Medusa's shoulder. "It wouldn't harm you."

Exhaling a long breath, Medusa glanced around. She frowned when she noticed they weren't the only ones present. There were three men and Medusa sensed one was an ant deity. Judging from the simple chiton the mortals wore, they appeared to be attendants manning the carriages laden with crates.