The Sixth Life of Medusa

59. Poison is the Answer

"I will ask again. Are you certain about this?" Despite Clotho's cautionary tone, her eyes shone with the eager spark of a mad scientist. "Speak now, child."

Medusa hesitated, suddenly unsure. In five days, she'd be facing Athena's contender. With no way to measure her growth against a powerful blood-carrier, she had sought out the Moirai and blurted a desperate request.

"Speak now." Clotho pressed as they resumed their descent down steps illuminated with dim yellow orbs.

"I'm certain," Medusa said before her courage failed her. Then she quickly added. "You promise it won't kill me." Since it worked with the bee, this wouldn't be dangerous, right?

"Now, why would I kill my sharpest weapon?"

Medusa raised her brow at 'weapon', then let it wash off her. Lately, she wasn't as thin-skinned about insults. Suffering under Lysander's pride-crushing jabs had cured her of that softness.

They entered an abandoned armoury. Clotho crossed to the opposite wall, touched it, and murmured in Theos Tongue. The weapons vanished, and in their place stood a single door pulsing with otherworldly light. She twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open. Unsurprisingly, it revealed a swirling dark portal.

"After you." She canted her head, usually sleepy eyes now bright with anticipation.

Medusa gulped, misgiving flooding where desperation once filled. "Aren't we moving too fast?"

"Too fast?" Clotho released a short burst of laughter and shook her head. "It's been hundreds of years since anyone submitted their bodies to my expert fingers."

Medusa shivered. "Submitted their bodies? I did not—"

"Go on. Get in," Clotho urged.

I may have made a mistake. "Shouldn't we tell Ares first—"

"Forget about Ares. We'll be back before he returns tonight anyway."

So Ares wasn't in his domain. Still, this was... She took a tentative step back.

"I promised not to kill you, no?"

"Yes, you did, but—"

"Now get in." Clotho grabbed her hand and pulled her into the portal.

The travel was faster this time. After what felt like a long forward step, she stumbled into a familiar place. Clotho's domain.

"This..." Medusa whipped around. How had they moved so fast, and with a single door?

"Come." Clotho carelessly tossed her cloak on a nearby recliner and strolled to the door at the far end of the hall. "You mentioned poisons, no?"

"I... Yes," she managed to say, still reeling. Everything looked the same. The domed night sky holds twinkling constellations and floating, demolished pillars. Same towering shelves packed with scrolls, bound text, slabs and oddities.

"Where did you get all these?"

"Here and there," Clotho said, tone casual. "Before the South consumed Cosmolith, recorded knowledge was abundant. These were obtained from kingdoms scattered across every continent, but most came from Lithyra. Warmongering aside, Lithyrians were at the pinnacle of human development and innovation; they were also excellent record keepers. Then things shot through the roof when Prometheus found the Monolith and threw in aether manipulation."

Her heart squeezed at the mention of his name, but the pain and memories were easier to bear now. Rest in peace, my wicked husband. When I die, I'll find you and nag you to a second death.