The Sixth Life of Medusa

56. Head on a Pike

Medusa stared at the heap of dust that was once the many-armed statue of Athena. She wasn't panting from exhaustion, not a drop of sweat on her brow. It had been too easy to finish off.

Raising her arms, she wiggled her fingers. "I'm still human, right?" Who am I kidding? She sighed and dropped her hands.

Clotho had suggested blindfold training to measure her progress and see if the key would react in some way. When Medusa opened her eyes, she was back at her last stop, with stone Perseus bearing down and his clenched teeth exposed in a granite sneer. Her attempt to push him off had resulted in his instant pulverisation, and the same happened with Athena's statue. The resulting aether spots had felt like nothing when she absorbed them.

There was still no reaction from the key, and her curse had been silent since her arrival. Glancing around, she took careful note of her surroundings. No movement so far, save for dry leaves rolling past with the gentle breeze.

"As for the Templo Mayor..." Her focus travelled to the pyramid in the far distance. Making her decision, she began a stroll in its direction. As she walked, her mind worked, resuming the thoughts that kept her up for most of the night.

How do I remove my family from Zeus' watchful eyes? So far, she had survived by hiding in the Moirai's shadow, but it seemed like her shadow was no longer enough. Zeus had all but defeated the three sisters in the past, and no matter how Medusa looked at it, it was clear that Clotho was hiding from him. And even if the Moirai helped her create portals for easy movement, Medusa knew in her bones it wasn't wise to keep running.

One month. She had to stand before Zeus in one month. Every plan she had come up with so far felt like paper houses. Zeus was a terrifying gale she couldn't predict. Even Clotho, with all her foresight, was at a loss.

Finally, she arrived at the base of the towering temple. This was the place of her second death. They didn't carve her heart out because a cursed one wasn't a worthy sacrifice. Instead, they stabbed it, then a vicious twist, and that was that. At least it wasn't a beheading. Her fingers twitched with the urge to cradle her neck. And the curse had spared her the sight of Medusa screaming her throat raw, begging for her mother to save her as she was dragged to her death. The corner of her lips dipped.

Releasing a long breath, she took the steps two at a time, trying and failing to ignore the memories buzzing for attention. That day, a crowd had gathered, yelling chants and weeping as they begged the sun god to cleanse the land with her death. For a terrifying, desperate moment, a fierce desire for her stone gaze to return had seized her. She had wanted to kill them all where they stood, chanting for her death.

When she reached the wide topmost platform, her gaze immediately sought the stone altar. No blood or flies. The air didn't stink of horrifying death and decay.

"So, what do you think?" The curse's voice came from Medusa's right. "I tried to replicate it as best as I could."

Medusa remained silent as she stopped next to the altar where the sacrificial dagger sat.

"I was expecting a more... emotional reaction." She strolled into Medusa's line of sight. Flowing dark hair, a full figure wrapped in the white peplos, and cuffs of gold circling each slim wrist. Medusa had looked exactly like that the day her world was upended in her first life.

"And you got the key!" The curse smiled proudly as she settled into a tall stone chair that appeared as she sat.

"Yes, I got it," Medusa said dryly, unable to reflect her excitement. "So, what now?"

Instead of giving a straight answer, the curse meandered. "Can you guess why I mixed these trials with our memories?"

Groaning internally, Medusa massaged the bridge of her nose. "I don't have the time to play guessing games. In a month, I'll stand before Zeus. What I need is fast, practical help."