The Sixth Life of Medusa

49. The Maze [1]

The cloak was the first thing they took from Medusa at the arena gate.

The female instructor, blank-faced and slim as a reed, draped the cloak over her arm and shooed the boys.

Akrivi gave Medusa an apologetic shrug. Win for us, he mouthed before joining Lonian and Vyron. After waving goodbye, they merged with the crowd of students and external spectators entering the arena.

As Medusa trailed after the instructor, she took in the colosseum-style exterior. Three stories, probably half the size of a standard stadium, with walls covered in climbing vines bearing delicate white flowers that smelled of... Medusa took a sniff. Gardenia.

In her first life, she was never granted permission to visit the stadion at Athens, but she had heard stories from other priestesses, brutal stories that made her weak little heart tremble with compassion and horror.

Hopefully, today wouldn't be anything like that. She doubted Demeter was the type to revel in blood and gore.

Following the instructor past one of the many alcoves lining the external wall, they entered a corridor with a high, curved ceiling that stretched in a series of turns, ending with a tall door at its end and a smaller one to the left.

The instructor gestured at the smaller door. "Head in. Change. I'll be waiting."

Like her first day in Drys Valon, a new outfit was laid out, but this time it was finer. Instead of a plain brown, thigh-length tunic, this bore red embroidery of vine patterns and gold-coloured tassels lining its hem. The sandals were of a better quality as well, climbing up to her knees with a red iron guard across her shin. The belt came with finely crafted clips, no sword in sight again.

There were two unexpected additions, though. A polished bronze breastplate with a fire-breathing hound's head etched across its middle and a helmet. The helmet was also bronze with a perfect line work and a full red plume as its crest. This was good. It may not do much in completely concealing her face, but something was better than nothing.

After making quick work of getting ready, Medusa wrapped the provided strophion around her arms, grabbed the helmet and stepped out.

One sweep from head to toe and a satisfied nod from the instructor.

Beyond the tall door were other medallion holders. She recognised two of the three. Arcas and Hoxha. After sending her a curt nod, Arcas faced ahead, his serious expression even more intense. It was different from Hoxha. She waved and fell in step with Medusa as they made their way up narrow flights of stairs that opened to a waiting area.

The morning sun spilt through the window to their right. Below was a spread of a section of the school grounds, and on the horizon, Agrai's Nest was a fog-covered boundary.

The return stone burned with phantom heat within her dimension, begging to be used. But she had given it a thought. If she could manage in some way to impress Demeter today, and if she was fast about it, she could still return to the nest.

There was the other massive concern about her disguise failing. Days sat between the time her appearance first flickered and last night. Surely, fate wouldn't be so cruel as to make her disguise fail in so short an interval.

Even though it felt futile, Medusa tried again. Clotho.

Silence. Not the slightest shift in the air.

Please, enough with the joke. I'm freaking out here.

More silence.

Arm tightening around her helmet, Medusa bit the inside of her lip.