The Sixth Life of Medusa

21. Blue Tears

That was more effective than the root word I gave you. Clotho laughed. She was still caught up in the excitement of Medusa's win. You used your knowledge of alien languages to modify it. Am I correct?

Yes. From what Medusa could see from the distance, the instructors were having a heated debate. No one gave instructions on what to do next, so she simply stood at the centre of the arena with the fast-dispersing ash of the heron to her left. Clotho, I—

Another unexpected variable. Clotho's voice turned contemplative. How interesting. Hmm...

Medusa needed to tell Clotho about the strange being she met but the goddess was distracted. It seemed modifying breathing had shocked her. Now she mumbled in Theos tongue, almost as if she had forgotten their mind link was still open.

Clotho, when I nearly died, I met a—

"For the first time in Drys Valon's history, a contender completed the challenge in less than half a horai!"

The crowd cheered. Even more eyes on her. Medusa resisted the urge to shift on her feet or cross her arms; showing a bold front was important in this kind of environment.

But what was this strange feeling? She had gotten the same sensation when she left the auction house—a sense of being watched, though this time it felt heavier and more oppressive.

Ignore the outsiders, Clotho said as if she could read Medusa's mind. There's a reason Demeter is called the Wicked Woman; every child in Drys Valon is under her protection. You should be more concerned about the students. I sense their wariness and envy... even ill intent.

Not again. Medusa groaned internally. She could deal with a few envious teens, but the mean-spirited calculating ones were the worst. In all her lives, such clashes were recurrent with one ending in her death.

Death. Medusa stopped herself from touching her neck. She was certain that the angry goddess would have severed her head if she hadn't regained consciousness at the last moment.

I must be careful. Near-death experiences were a no-no from now on.

Medusa sighed as her mental exhaustion doubled. When last did she get proper sleep? And what next? She was sick of standing and getting speared with stares.

Someone stepped into the Arena. At first, Medusa thought he was a child, but she quickly dismissed the idea when he stopped in front of her. His sharp, worldly eyes and dignified gait and posture suggested otherwise. A midget probably.

He looked up and offered a quick smile. "I am Thersandros."

Medusa frowned. This voice... he was the herald. Quite surprising. She had expected some mouthy loony, not a midget with a commanding aura.

"Thank you for the performance," he said in a low, measured voice. "That was beyond commendable for an unawakened mortal."

Unsure of how to respond, Medusa said her thanks with a straight face.

"As a gift for your entertaining performance, you may ask me any three questions in the future." A haughty smile touched his lips as he tapped his temple. "I know many useful things within and outside the shores of Tartarus."

Before she could respond, he turned to the crowd. "You have all been waiting for this moment!"

Medusa's brow shot up. How did he make his voice so loud without hurting her ears? Was it aether manipulation? If she used the principles of aether Clotho taught her, could she achieve that too?