The Sixth Life of Medusa

55. A Child's Revenge

"Are you Master Ares' secret child?"

Medusa stumbled to a stop while Clotho laughed in the background.

"So?" Lysander pressed, eyes expectant and bright with curiosity.

"I... the red god isn't my father." We don't even look remotely alike.

Muscular shoulders drooping, she shook her head. "One could only hope. Alright then." She resumed her trek, long legs eating the distance as Medusa hurried to keep pace through the winding corridors.

As it turned out, Clotho had contacted Ares immediately after his dramatic exit, and now they were at his domain. After handing her over to Lysander at the gates of his villa, Ares had vanished again. He had been visibly enraged, so much so that the sky was dyed deep red the moment he entered his domain. All through their return, the air around him had been painful to breathe, with his poor horse neighing and foaming at the mouth as it galloped to their destination.

Both the inside and outside of Ares' villa were nowhere as grand as her parents' home in Hesperides. The interior was even more austere, with everything dryly practical, save for the ceiling, which featured stunning frescoed depictions of raging battlefields. Medusa's sharpened senses were all that kept her from walking into walls as she stared at the brutal yet mesmerising images.

"And you shouldn't call him the red god."

When Medusa said nothing, she glanced her way. "Don't you wish to know why?"

"Why?" Medusa asked dryly.

"Ha!" Lysander laughed. "They even behave alike," she mumbled.

Medusa occupied herself with taking in more of her surroundings. The walls were painted an uninteresting off-white, and the floor was paved with hardened red terracotta; no vases were in the corners. At least luminescent orbs were lighting the path, but that hardly mattered. Night vision was also part of the perks her time in the monolith's vein had gifted her, or was it the key that caused the changes? She had yet to test her reflexes in combat, not with the Moirai worried about her constantly flaring aether.

They finally stopped in front of an ordinary wooden door. Lysander opened it with a flourish and waved Medusa in.

"All yours."

Medusa took in the simple bedroom. That mouldy smell of abandonment was absent, and every surface appeared free of dust. In the corner was a chair and desk, and the bed across was wide enough to fit three people comfortably.

"It has an attached bath. Soaps and kunca fleece have also been provided along with the uniforms we use for training."

Medusa spotted the uniform in question on the bed. Were those metal fittings?

"Though it's a bit late, I can ask the kitchen to prepare something. We eat in a general area on the ground floor."

Medusa shook her head, still looking around. "I'll wait for breakfast. Please, extend my thanks to the re— to Ares."

Lysander chuckled. "How old did you say you were again?"

"Fifteen." At least that's the age she resembled, judging from her new face.

"Fifteen, huh?" She peered at Medusa as the mirth in her eyes vanished. "Then why do you seem older?" Cocking her head, she observed her some more. "Tell me, have you killed a person before?"

"Several." Better to rip off the band-aid early.

Eyes subtly widening, she nodded slowly. "That's...better for everyone involved." Her bright smile flashed into appearance once more. "I heard you will face the contender Athena wishes to force upon master Ares." She patted Medusa's shoulder. "Show no mercy, and kill them to teach Athena a lesson."