Chapter 71: Father of Monsters (862 BC)
862 BC, Mount Etna
(Medusa POV)
After a few hours, we arrived at the base of the volcano, and we noticed and entrance to the deep. It was large, as if a giant could walk through. The heat emanating from it was extremely high, but it was muted somehow. It was still extremely hot, but it similar to the heat in a desert during a summer day. On top of the entrance was a sign. It said, “Mount Etna”.
With a small gulp, we stepped into the deep.
As soon as we stepped out of the entrance, I could feel the true nature of the magic of the volcano. It was old, very powerful. It didn’t feel calm, though. This was a wilder, hotter magic. The magic felt wrong. It was not malicious in its nature, but it was sinister all the same. Like something was forcing it to be malicious.
The volcano itself didn’t have any wards on it, the resident here probably assumed that the forest was protection enough. And the magic of the Volcano could affect any wards being erected, which could cause a cascading failure and the death of every resident inside the wards.
The insides Mount Etna was full of ash and dirt. Other than the black volcanic rocks that looked like glass, of course. There was no light source other that the lava rivers, and what light they provided was not worth the risk. With a twitch of my fingers, I summon an orb of light that travelled next to us.
As we got progressively deeper into the fiery inferno, the magic started to get exponentially stronger, and the air grew hotter. Both myself and my beloved started to really sweat, and I shudder to think what the temperature would be without the enchantment regulating the heat.
I steel myself and keep going, my gut telling me that whatever was going on was worth the journey. As we journeyed deeper, we arrived at a gate of steel. I spell it to open it cautiously and prepare myself for traps. What I saw inside scarred me for life. Even Hestia let out a horrified gasp. Inside were dozens of creatures whose every limb was shackled to a wall. But that was not the horrifying part; the creatures themselves were half human; they had a human body from the waist up but had a horse’s or a goat’s body from the waist down.
These were centaurs and satyrs, and I didn’t know that their origins were so horrible. I could sense the traces of alchemical rituals used to create them and they while they were very powerful, they did not prioritize the subject’s survival.
One of the centaurs raised his head, “No more, please.”
I answer, “I am not here to hurt you.”
At the sound of my voice, all of conscious centaurs and satyrs raised their heads in surprise, “Who are you?”
“My name is Medusa,” I point towards Hestia, “This is Hestia. We’re here to help.”
“You can’t help us. Nothing can help us.” The centaur whispered miserably.
I knew that the answer wasn’t going to be pretty, but I had to ask, “And why is that?”
He responded, “She will come, and she will hurt us for being failures…”
“And why are you failures?” Hestia questioned gently.
“When father created us, he called us that. Now we must be punished for it.”
The man looked like he hated himself for not being acceptable enough to whoever created them. It was most likely that they were too smart, and their creator would strain himself controlling them. They were too human, so he decided to imprison them. I didn’t understand why he didn’t just kill them, I guess that whoever their creator was, he didn’t like to throw his toys away. I was about to ask, who was it that hurt them before a wicked voice bellowed, “Have anyone been naughty today? Will I need to discipline you?”
I hide myself and Hestia in the shadows using a small but powerful illusion; whoever it was should not be able to tell that we were there. Suddenly, a woman entered the prison. Whatever I could call her, human was not a word I would use. She looked humanoid but instead of skin, she had green scales all over her body. She had yellow reptilian eyes and almost no nose. She looked like a female scaly version of Voldemort, but with claws instead of hands and a forked tongue.
“We did nothing, Mother.” The centaur pleaded.
“Do not lie to me, sonny. I thought I beat that out of you, long ago.”
The woman conjured a whip and prepared to strike the bound centaur but before she could, I raised my hands and banished her away. I step out of the shadows, conjure a sword and leap at her. With a surprising show of agility and speed, the snake woman dodged my attempt and tried to attack me again. She raised her hand, probably to cast a spell, but I didn’t allow her to do so. I swung my sword at her hand, but it did not cut it as I expected. Instead, there was a deep but already healing gash of silver on her appendage. She hissed and dropped her whip from the pain.
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I exclaim, “You’re an Atlantean!!”
The woman just snarled at me and conjured a dagger and swung it at me again and I could sense that this dagger was cursed heavily and would seriously hurt me, if it touches me. Acting on instinct, I conjured another sword, this time it was enchanted to go through anything and to prevent healing. I then ducked under her swing and impaled her through the chest. With a gasp the woman dropped the cursed knife and fell down, eyes blank. She was dead.
Around me, the centaurs and satyrs looked at me in astonishment. The centaur I was talking to before was gaping at me and muttered, “You killed Mother.”
I nod, “I am giving you an opportunity to be free from your torment. I will not force you to do so. It has to be your choice,” I wave my arm and their chains turned to dust. I continue, “Who here is you leader.”
The centaur I was talking to stood up and so did one of the satyrs, “I am Chiron, I am responsible of the four legged ones. This is Pan, he is responsible of the two legged ones.”
I nod. “I will leave the gate open. Should you want to leave, do so of your own volition.”
He looked at me, “Where are you going?”
“I have a conversation to have with your father.”
He looked startled, as if he couldn’t fathom why anyone would fight his creator. “Thank you and good luck.”
I nod and turn around, Hestia joining me, and walk away. I should have guessed that an Atlantean was responsible for this. No one had the skill of knowledge to do so. I march forward, looking determined and ready to confront the man responsible for this.
I only took us minutes to reach a great hall. At its end was a throne, made of volcanic rock where a man was sitting on it. This was no man; this was an abomination. It had the height of a giant and Its skin was pure black, metallic, with only the joints emitting an orange light like that of a molten stone. Its eyes were glowing, and malice emanated from him in waves.
As soon as I started assessing him, his voice bellowed, “Hello, young Morrigan.”
“You know me?” I answer.
“Very few residents of Atlantis didn’t know of Atlantis’ little prodigy.”
“I think I would have heard of someone like you if you ever lived there.” I respond sarcastically.
“I did not always look like that, young one.”
He’s calling me young, meaning that he must have been an adult by Atlantean standard when Atlantis was still there. This is the first adult survivor of my home I encountered.
“Who are you, really?”
The man chuckled, “You always were a sharp one. Who I was before doesn’t matter now. I have another name, much like you, I assume. Medusa, the protector, what a curious name. And what do we have here, a daughter of the Olympia clan. How sad that such a rising clan had it fallen so far.”
“Don’t bring her into this. What’s interesting was what you have done to yourself?”
“Always the academic, aren’t you Morrigan? I was dying on the shores of Atlantis. There was nothing I could do to survive, not that I wanted to survive. My entire family, my clan was dead. They were my responsibility and I failed them. I thought I would be the last one alive, the last son of Atlantis. I had to survive as a duty to my home, perhaps rebuild another Atlantis and I found a way. I had nothing to lose and so, I merged with my element, lava, and used transmutation to turn myself into a being of lava. It was excruciating but I survived. For centuries, I wondered the world alone, everyone was terrified of me, calling me demon, monster. I tried to teach them our ways. To understand peace and serenity but they wouldn’t listen. No one would listen. But then these Olympians appeared. They were worshiped as gods. These weaklings and kin slayers were heralded as saviors, as gods. Just because of how they looked. I then understood that for everyone to understand each other, they all had to be as monstrous as me.”
He was a lava elemental, and a clan head from the looks of it. He was an alchemy prodigy to be able to permanently transform himself into his element. There was only one man that fit the picture.
“You’re Prometheus, aren’t you?”
The man snarled at me, “Prometheus is dead. I am Typhon, the father of monsters.”
Looking at him, it broke my heart. That man was one of the kindest people I ever met on Atlantis and my alchemy teacher. He taught me for centuries, ever since I was a girl.
I asked, “But why create new creatures?”
“The Olympians are a blight to our society. They desecrate their ancestors with they way they’re behaving. The people emulate their behavior, trying to be like their gods. I was to create a new Atlantis, and for that I have to kill them. But they are too numerous for even me to fight alone. I created my monsters to be my weapons against them.”
I sneer at him, “But why did your cripple their development? Why did you force them under your will?”
“I tried at first to do it the right way. But they were disobedient. They didn’t want to fight. I killed them, of course. I learnt my lesson. A disobedient weapon is useless. I did not create them to disobey me.”
“And you call yourself a son of Atlantis. You truly are a hypocrite.”
He growled at me, “It doesn’t matter what you call me. When I succeed to create a world of peace, no one is going to complain about how I achieved it.”
There was no talking him out of this. I changed the subject.
“Who is the snake woman, by the way?”
“The snake woman? Oh, you mean Echidna. I picked her up half dead. Apparently, she displeased a man called Atlas. She was my first attempt of transmutating an Atlantean. It didn’t work well. The lizard instincts were too strong, and she assimilated them during the transformation. She became very prone to violence and her critical thinking was crippled. What happened to her by the way?”
I answer, “She died.”
“Oh, that’s a shame.” He didn’t sound the least bit upset.
Ignoring his apathy, I ask, “But the question is, how are you able to create so many magical creatures. If I remember correctly, one can create a creature at most every decade. If you use it too much, you upset the balance and the ambient magic could end up crippling you magically.”
He snickered, “You still remember your lessons. The answer is quite simple. I did not use my magic.”
“Then whose magic did you use?”
Typhon just raised his hand and a part of the wall melted. Inside was a magnificent creature that I have never seen before. It was almost as large as a mountain; it was majestic, and waves of pure power thrummed from it. But was roaring in pain, with some kind of spikes impaling it to the ground. There were chains of lava that bound it and there were runes glowing on it. I didn’t get a good look, but there was a dimensional binding array there somewhere.
“I used him. Morrigan, let me introduce you to Shou-Lao, the last elder dragon in this realm.”