The Sixth Life of Medusa

45. Children of Lightning

As Nestor and the woman approached, Medusa attempted to sit up, only to realise she was restrained. Frowning, she pulled at her arms, staring in confusion at the red cords around her wrists. Something was between her teeth. Unclenching her jaw, she spat out a slab of wood. It had deep indents from how hard she had been biting down.

"You had seizures," the woman said dryly.

"I see." Medusa looked around. The large room resembled an infirmary with rows of empty beds to her left and right.

"I guess I'm done here." She patted Nestor on the shoulder as she walked past. "Take it easy with these training sessions."

They both watched her go until she vanished past the door.

"I didn't know the blindfold training could be stopped externally," Medusa said.

"It can. But in your case..." He tutted and shook his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Fatigued. Not as bad as when I woke up, though."

"That's a relief." When Nestor touched the ropes, they burned away with a sizzle. "I am not asking you to tell me exactly what happened during the training, but if you can share anything odd... something I can add to my report to the red god."

Medusa massaged her wrists. "You can say my curse was tough to handle. He'll understand"

"Very well." Nestor nodded, seeming satisfied with her answer. "While you were unconscious, some friends visited."

"Huh?" Medusa blinked in surprise. Before this life, she had no friends save for Antonii and her sister from her third life, and she had never been sick or admitted to a hospital either, so their visit felt unfamiliar but... nice.

"They may visit again like they did yesterday and the day before," Nestor said as he prepared to leave. "Varelas will likely discharge you this evening. Can you stand?"

Medusa pushed to her feet. Every joint ached, and her muscles felt sore, but it felt more like the result of her laps around the training hall. She frowned at the unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her belly. Something was spinning behind her belly button, and she sensed she could move it if she tried hard enough.

She cocked her head and tried to make sense of this discovery. The ball seemed to be drawing aether through her pores, giving a destination to what previously sat in her body.

"Are you alright? Do I call Varelas?"

Medusa stood straighter. "It's... my body still aches from the sprints."

Nestor shook his head and muttered something about weak mortal bodies. "We shall suspend blindfold training for the time being."

Though Medusa wanted to argue, she nodded obediently.

"And what is this strange rumour I hear about you being a disciple of the red god? Is that true? Are you also his disciple?"

She groaned internally. Arke must have embellished the rumours she had asked her to spread—not that Medusa cared. Clotho had told her to be bold and arrogant; the best she could do was wave around Ares' name.

"You seem confused as well. Never mind it." He waved. "I shall take my leave."

In his absence, the silence returned. Even now, she still itched to return to the training. If she could try again, she might kill Perseus without ending her life. She'd use this time to consider their clash from every angle and check for winning routes.

There was also the horror she witnessed through her double. Why did her mother look like a damn scarecrow and what were those thorns around Phorcys' neck, wrists and ankles? Though ignorant about the details of her father's punishment, a way to save him lingered, urging her to forego her promise to Clotho.