The Sixth Life of Medusa

19. The Trial [1]

Medusa followed Nestor down an orb-lit passage with tightly interwoven vines that formed its roof and high walls. They had left the conservatory some minutes ago and since then it's been a maze.

Recently dying must have shot her audacity to new heights. Medusa groaned internally. Granted, she had been overtaken by emotions, but the nerve to threaten a high goddess. A less patient deity would have incinerated her on the spot.

And Demeter was powerful, at least she had to be considering her notoriety as one of Zeus' generals.

Just how am I to face such a being and get Rico back?

The horrifying picture of Rico sinking into the earth was still fresh in her mind. Again, in the span of days, something precious was taken from her because she was weak. It was as simple as that.

"How do I get him back?"

If Nestor heard her question, he did a fantastic job at pretending not to. He took another turn; the vines parted and led them to an identical passage.

"How do I get him back?" Medusa repeated.

She stumbled to a stop when Nestor halted. Despite his boyish face, he possessed a large muscular physique some may find intimidating but Medusa was past caring.

He turned, his profile twisting with a subtle frown. "The goddess collects beasts. Be glad. Yours may survive."

Medusa's legs nearly gave out from relief. May. She could cling to that one word.

"Tell me how to get him back."

"You are mortal." He scanned Medusa with an unimpressed sweep. "Perhaps, if your blood is awakened..." He shook his head.

"Tell me how already," Medusa said, beyond frustrated, then she clamped her jaws in surprise when she realised she spoke English. Something wasn't right. It felt like the connection her tongue had with her brain was unravelling in some way. Earlier, in her rage, the languages had mixed without any control on her part.

Nestor's frown deepened as his gaze turned sharp. "Do you not hail from the Grecian continent? What is this language you speak?"

Medusa maintained a placid expression. "I'm from the Grecian continent."

When she gave no further answer, the spark of interest vanished from his eyes. He turned and resumed his trek. "Impress the goddess and you may get your pet back. If she is in a good mood, she may grant you a task. But as I pointed out, your blood is unawakened. Your chance of impressing the goddess is abysmal."

"I deeply appreciate the vote of confidence," Medusa muttered dryly.

"Water cats are beyond rare," he continued as if he didn't hear her speak. "How did one come to your possession?"

"My father." Medusa massaged the spot where Phorcys forehead touched hers; he looked so haggard that day. Please, be fine. "My father gave it to me."

"Indeed you are spoiled." Nestor clicked his tongue as if disappointed. "It is no surprise the goddess assigned you to Dog House."

"What's a Dog House?" Medusa did not want to believe it was a literal dog house. Please, no.

"Slow learners. Runts. Spoiled to an insufferable degree. The worst house of the four."

"Oh." How apt of the goddess. If Medusa was going by her first life, Dog House fits her to a tee. She was a runt, spoiled by her parents and painfully naive.

"What's the entry trial?"

"You will soon find out." Nestor stopped before a simple wooden door to their right. "Head in. Change. I will be waiting."