The Sixth Life of Medusa

14. Stone Titans

Medusa stretched her hand before her face and widened her eyes, yet she could see nothing. But she pressed on, grip tight around Clotho's hand and heart hammering.

Her vision suddenly returned after what felt like a full minute of wading through the fathomless darkness. Shielding her eyes from the assault of daylight, Medusa glanced behind in time to see Clotho emerge from a stone wall—which was weird because she distinctly remembered the goddess went in before her and she was holding her hand.

"The Western door. Convenient." Clotho mused as she glanced around. They were in a narrow alley that stretched to a bustling street ahead.

Noises began to register. Clopping hooves, spinning carriage wheels, occasional lowing of beasts, and loud voices.

Medusa sensed it without taking another step forward. There was an otherworldliness about the air of this place. Gods and goddesses... lots of deities were here.

Apprehension surged as a suppressed terror pushed for the surface and rooted Medusa to the spot. A fierce desire to remain hidden in the shadowed alley gripped her. She could think of nothing else.

I am safe here. Out there... out there... deities in disguise. They would find me. Eyes everywhere, watching. They see everything. They know.

Cold sweat misted Medusa's brow. Breathing became painful.

"Child."

Medusa blinked hard. Again and again. This tightness in her chest would not relent. She massaged the spot. Black bled into her vision.

Run. I must run.

Apart from the deities, there was another worry. Humans.

They view me with terrified eyes. They die at a glance.

Shivering, Medusa hugged herself. Her fingers dug into the flesh of her arms as she muttered through trembling lips, "Please, don't remember."

From the cell holding the worst of her memories, a hand emerged and snatched her by the neck—forcing her to recall. And she let it happen. Memories rushed past in horrifying glimpses.

The fleeing crowd. How they screamed. An unfamiliar serpentine trunk instead of feet. Each movement was destruction. Shutting her eyes was impossible. Stone people mid-flight. Stone people everywhere. Some toppled and crumbled. A child forever frozen in a wail of terror. A weeping mother dead on her knees. That grating screech that came when Medusa sought to speak words—to explain and beg.

So much blood on my hands. I'm a beast. Evil. Perseus was right.

"MEDUSA."

Medusa blinked as her vision focused on Clotho. The goddess was so close. She could see lines of gold in her brown eyes—those normally bored eyes were now wide with worry.

"I saw it, too." Clotho pulled her into a tight embrace.

Medusa slowly blinked. She could feel the goddess' racing heartbeat against her chest. How was that possible? Some form of advanced human imitative behaviour?

"I saw it, but it will not happen," Clotho said, voice fierce and hug even fiercer. "I promise; it will not happen this time."

"I am terrified." Medusa bleakly stared over Clotho's shoulder. "I feel their presence." Her voice sounded dead in her ears. The memories had sucked all that remained of her strength. "I cannot see them but they're here. They wear mortal faces to deceive."

Clotho pulled away. "Look at me."

Medusa complied. How could Clotho look and feel so...human? How could her eyes reflect such warmth? It was messing with her mind.