“If I make you smile within a week, can I buy you lunch?”

“No.”

“Within four days?”

“No.”

“A year?”

“No—A year?”

“Your lips twitched.”

“They did not. Look, Antonii—Mr Moralis, I need to focus. This is a library.”

“You called me Antonii. See? You're beginning to like me.”

“Pfft. No.”

“You'll fall for me within a year tops. Wait and see, May.”

The smell of mint roused Medusa. There was a feeling of floating in water. Someone hummed a tune in the background; the sound was melodious and strangely calming.

But the soothing tune was not enough to numb the pain her dream awakened. Those kind eyes. He would send a playful wink her way whenever he visited the library. For a second, she imagined what it would be like if Antonii were here with her. They would—

“She’s awake.”

Galene?

Despite her hard struggle, Medusa couldn't summon the strength to move.

Someone placed their palm over her forehead. “What did you do, child?”

Aunt Phorcydes?

Warmth flowed from Medusa’s forehead to her toes in slow pulses. The haze over her senses slowly slipped away as strength returned to her bones.

The water was warm, there was a low throbbing pain just below her sternum, and the tip of her fingers was cold.

Blinking her eyes open, Medusa stared at the thatch roof above.

“How do you feel?” Phorcydes asked in a concerned voice.

Glancing to the right and left without moving her head, Medusa took in the large iron bath with glowing green runes lining its rim. “Aunt Phorcydes?”

Phorcydes leaned forward, her white tresses sliding over her shoulder and touching the water. Her eyes, the same green as Medusa’s, were youthful despite her heavily wrinkled face. “Phorcys wouldn’t forgive me if you died.”

Father! Medusa’s worry spiked as she recalled the content of his letter. The way he embraced her had felt like goodbye. Something wasn’t right.

“There was a letter from my father.” Medusa watched her aunt’s expression, checking for a reaction that would give a hint. “He said something about using his powers and someone dangerous.”

“Do not worry about Phorcys.” Phorcydes turned away and straightened. “What’s the worst that could happen? Gods cannot die. He will be fine.”

But why do I feel this heaviness in my heart?

When Medusa sat up, water spilled over the tub and her hair clung to the back of her neck and ears. That dull pain remained in the pit of her belly. She blinked down at the silver necklace hanging from her neck.

Father, please be fine.

“Galene, get her out of the water,” Phorcydes said with a sigh.

Galene was a picture of perfect health—not a trace of injuries she sustained from facing an ekhidna. Having the blood of a deity, even an ant deity, made a world of difference between mortals.

All the while Medusa was towelled down, dressed and led to a stool close to the fireplace, she considered her situation. Clotho said she would find her in two days but Medusa was clueless about how long she was out.

Medusa tested the link. Clotho?

Silence.

The living area was a small but cosy space, with furnishing that possessed little to no embellishment. There were three doors. One door led outside, another was slightly ajar and seemed to lead to the rest of the house, and the third had an odd feel to it—like it kept a strong energy at bay.

From the corners of her eyes, Medusa spied a small creature bound in her direction.

“Rico!” Beaming, Medusa snatched her pet and kissed his nose. “My baby, you survived.” Hugging him, she chuckled when he yipped against her neck. She placed him on her lap and patted his smooth fur. “How long was I… asleep?”

“About fourteen horai,” Phorcydes said as she carefully settled into a rocking chair across from Medusa. “Give her the medicine.”

Galene passed a steaming cup containing what resembled raspberry juice. But the smell. Medusa took a tentative sniff. It smelled of nothing.

“I do not recall you being so… cautious.”

Oh no. She had forgotten to act like a child. She stole a glance her aunt’s way. Phorcydes’ attention was fixed on the fire.

“And you also seem sad,” she added before spearing Medusa with a direct gaze.

Medusa struggled not to squirm. Clotho had assured her that it was next to impossible for deities to discover her secret.

“Something happened to you.” Phorcydes squinted as she continued observing Medusa.

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know. Medusa wailed internally when her hand shook as she brought her cup to her lips. I’m acting suspicious. She’ll see through my ruse and drill me. I can’t—

“Was it the encounter with the ekhidna? Do not be scared.” Phorcydes grinned, exposing ancient dentition. “I killed it. Did you see?”

“Thank you for saving us,” Medusa said with a fast bow. She brought the cup to her lips again, only noticing it tasted of nothing. But as it travelled down, the pain in her belly disappeared.

“It’s the least I could do for my niece.” Shutting her eyes, she resumed rocking her chair and humming.

Listening to her aunt hum felt strangely good. There was something mystical about the sound. Perhaps an ability to affect one’s emotions? Maybe that was part of her power.

“You feel that don’t you?” Phorcydes asked without opening her eyes. “The song, it calms you, yes?”

“It does,” Medusa said, wondering where her aunt was going with the conversation.

“Do you know of the blessing?”

“No.” Medusa frowned. Though her exposure to the outside world began in her days in the temple, there was still a vast aspect of the world of deities she knew nothing of.

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“Since there are curses, there must be blessings as well, yes?” Phorcydes opened an eye and observed Medusa. Her direct gaze was beginning to get unnerving.

Wariness spiked within Medusa.

“What you displayed against the ekhidna was too much for your body to handle. If I hadn't come when I did, you may have died.”

Medusa touched her belly. The pain was the most agonising sensation she had felt in all her lives.

“Hmmm.” Phorcydes continued to observe her. “I think that has to do with my brother. I felt some of his aura… in fact, it was his aura that helped me find you.” She tapped her forehead. “Did he touch his forehead to yours before you left?”

Medusa nodded but said nothing about how she had already manifested the shout at the cliff before meeting Phorcys.

“As I thought.” Phorcydes finally looked away and resumed rocking her chair. “The powers gods manifest is either blessings or curses. There are by far more blessed gods than there are cursed ones. And most of the curses are either useless or downright terrifying. What Phorcys did was risky.”

Instead of bluntly asking, why are you telling me this? Medusa went with a more childlike, “Is my father cursed? What about my mother? The ekhidna was so scary.” She didn't need to fake a shiver because it came naturally. Visions of the beast hovering over her still made her heart race.

Blessings and curses? Phorcydes spoke like there was a higher power that gave deities abilities. But it was common knowledge that high deities were supreme and uncreated, existing since the beginning of time with Zeus at the pinnacle of their existence.

And so kind were the gods that they chose to create and interact with mortals, some even giving mortals their blood and offering them a chance to ascend to Olympus. Medusa's mood soured.

“Your father is cursed but your mother is blessed.”

The mystery keeps multiplying. Medusa’s grip tightened around her cup, but she widened her eyes in a manner she hoped showed naive shock. “What about my sisters?”

“Cursed as well. They possess the appearance of a gorgon. Your father’s curse was one of the strongest in Olympus. It’s no surprise all his surviving children are cursed.”

Surviving children? Medusa's jaw fell open along with her pretence. “I have a dead sibling?” Were they living in a reincarnation loop like her?

“That’s a question I cannot answer,” Phorcydes solemnly answered. “Ask Phorcys when you return home, yes?”

Swallowing an answering retort, Medusa finished the now-warm medicine in one go. Swiping an arm across her mouth, she passed the cup to Galene.

Rico hopped off Medusa’s lap. Sniffing this and that, he disappeared into a corner.

“You amaze me,” Phorcydes said without opening her eyes. “Part of me expected you to cry when you came to. You are ten from what I recall, but looking at you… your eyes are clear and your speech lacks the naivety of a child. My niece, though mortal, is unique indeed. So very unique, yes?”

It seemed her attempt to appear childlike failed. But Medusa did not care because her curiosity was ablaze. A thousand questions sprung in her mind, begging for answers. How did her parents have children when it was rare for deities to conceive? Who gave the blessing and cursing? Was it Zeus?

The questions had barely passed Medusa’s lips when the door that bore a strange energy opened.

Phorcydes’ attention swung in that direction. “Who…” Her expression slackened.

“Clotho?” Medusa blinked at the tall goddess. Today she was dressed in a white chiton and an elaborate cloak hung over her shoulders.

The goddess strolled into the room, a slim staff in her right hand and a child-sized wooden puppet in the other.

“I greet the Moirai!” Phorcydes fell to her knees, shaky hands clasped as rapturous wonder animated her aged face. “This servant is most honoured by your visit. Most honoured!” She bowed and touched her head to the floor.

“Huh?”

Medusa exchanged a confused glance with Galene. But the servant, seeing Phorcydes’ reverent actions, fell to her knees and bowed.

“Truly, this is needless,” Clotho said with a bored sigh. She discarded the puppet and carefully rested her staff against the closed door before stepping forward.

Bending, Clotho offered Phorcydes and Galene her hand. Her aura flared as a muted golden light outlined her body. The scent of orchids followed after. “There is no need to bow. Very well. I shall give you both a blessing.”

Blessing? Medusa sat straighter. Could it be what she was thinking? Could Clotho—

Instead of an awe-inducing occurrence, Phorcydes and Galene collapsed when Clotho touched them.

“What have you done?” Medusa rushed over, heart in her throat. “Are they dead?” She pressed her ear to her aunt’s chest and sighed in relief at the sound of her heartbeat.

Clotho daintily made her way around the unconscious women as she glanced around. “It’s been over two centuries and nothing seems to have changed.”

Medusa scowled. “Tell me what you did to them. And what was that you said about blessings?”

Clotho waved a hand. “I merely modified their memories regarding you; they’ll be up and about once we leave. Oh!” She approached Medusa.

“I need a strand of your hair,” Clotho demanded with an open palm.

“Why?”

Clotho groaned to the ceiling. “This child.”

Instead of submitting, Medusa stubbornly waited for an explanation. “Tell me why you need my hair.”

“Listen.” Clotho sat in Phorcydes’ rocking chair. “Every sentient life on Cosmolith has a thread.” Pinching her thumb and index finger, she drew a line. A crackling golden thread materialised, and when she unpinched her fingers, the thread spread and formed a small rectangle. Gold dust formed moving images that first displayed a baby and then a running toddler.

“That was your life thread before you…” Clotho gestured at Medusa. “You changed. I’ll use this thread, your hair and the puppet to create your likeness who will remain here while you’re at Tartarus. Does my explanation settle your wary little heart?”

“I just…” Medusa drew nearer. “My past—”

“It’s no matter,” Clotho said with a wave. “I understand.”

Medusa plucked a strand and passed it to Clotho. “What type of deity are you?”

“Such a funny question.” Clotho chuckled as she took her staff. After twisting the knobbed top open, she retrieved a thin vial hidden in it. “Maybe I’ll share my story with you one day. For now, bring the puppet. It’s not as heavy as it looks.”

Medusa blinked in surprise when she lifted the puppet. “What wood is this?” Even a stuffed toy was heavier than it.

“It was carved from a silver nymph. Even after death, embers of life remain in their bodies for a time.”

“Oh.” Medusa stored the little detail.

Clotho laid the puppet face-down across her lap. Uncocking the vial with her teeth, she slid in Medusa’s hair and a short gold thread. One thorough shake after and the blue liquid turned sparkling green.

“The fact that you have mortal traits makes this even easier.” Sweeping a finger up the puppet’s spine, Clotho pressed against its nape. A hole appeared. As she poured the liquid in a slow stream, she mumbled words in Theos tongue.

Once the vial was emptied, the change began. First, the glowing outline of a spine appeared before branching veins. Skin soon covered wood and dark wavy hair flowed out.

The puppet’s perfectly human fingers twitched as Clotho turned it to its back. A perfect replica.

Medusa had witnessed many fantastical things in her lives, but this—this was something else. Downright eerie. Suddenly, she did not want the puppet to open her eyes.

Clotho’s gaze roamed over the copy’s features. “Even Zeus wouldn’t spot a difference,” she said with a satisfied grin.

She carried the replica to the wide bath and placed her in the water, face up. “When your aunt and the servant wake, everything will flow.”

Still in a daze, Medusa carried Rico when he sniffed her feet.

“Athena will send a spy here,” Clotho said as she glanced at Phorcydes and Galene.

Medusa's heart sank at the news. “I see.”

“She would be foolish not to.” Clotho strolled to the only shelf in the room and began rooting through its content. She retrieved a copper coin and observed it in the light before pocketing it. “It is no secret that Phorcys has only one sister.”

Medusa remembered the letter. “My father wrote a letter that sounds ominous. Aunt Phorcydes—”

“I know of the letter.” Clotho opened a random book, retrieved the letter and casually threw it into the fire. “And he gave you that necklace. Did he tell you what it does?”

Medusa watched the letter burn. “He said it will shield me from Athena’s eyes.”

“Hmm.” Clotho touched her chin as she observed Medusa. “Give me your hand.”

Quelling that familiar flare of mistrust, she did as Clotho said.

It was the first time she was touching the goddess. Clotho’s hands were soft and warm—nothing out of the ordinary.

Medusa frowned. What had she been expecting? Tree bark skin?

“I will modify this.” She held the necklace. More Theos tongue.

“What happened to my hair?” Medusa’s hand flew to her head. Her hair felt curly and short.

“You possess a striking face, and Tartarus is the worst place to stand out. I gave you a temporary forgettable appearance.”

Medusa touched her face. Nothing felt different. “You changed my face?” An odd sense of freedom and giddy excitement spread in her chest.

“Yes. Yes. Very exciting,” Clotho said and turned towards the door she came from. “Let's leave.”

“But…” Worry gnawed at Medusa. What if they were missing something? What if Athena—

Clotho tutted. “I took care of every loophole in their minds. Can’t you take a hint from how your aunt reacted when she saw me? I may be weak now, but even this weakness is strong compared to numerous deities. Calm your mind.”

Medusa eyed her aunt and Galene. “At least let’s move them.”

“You overwork me, child.” Clotho groaned. Shortly after, she had Phorcydes and Galene seated in the chairs across the iron bath.

“Ready?” Clotho asked after retrieving her staff.

“No,” Medusa said and meant it. The thought that Athena would send a spy stole her ability to relax, and Tartarus…

“That’s too bad.”

Before Medusa could react, Clotho grabbed her hand, flung the door open and drew her into the light.