They had used at least six portal doors so far. Between the doors, they travelled by foot, and even though the people in the small towns and villages they passed paid them no mind, the feeling of being exposed wouldn’t leave Medusa.

Now they made their way to a lone temple atop a foggy uninhabited hill. From what Clotho explained, this was the northern border of the Grecian continent where one of the four doors that led to Tartarus was located.

Sighing, Medusa stuck her hand in her satchel and scratched Rico at the back of his ear. He purred and shifted in his sleep.

Sweat trickled down her back as she huffed up the stone steps. They were more than halfway there. Each step was a step closer to Tartarus, and it worsened her terror.

But she must do this. Last night, her sleep was tormented with nightmares of Antonii’s death, and following the torment was the day of her death in her first life. Perseus had managed to murder her twice. Such persistent hate was almost commendable. Even now she could feel the cold steel of his sword against her neck.

Has Athena gifted Perseus that accursed sword? Where was he now? Perhaps, somewhere wetting his weapon with the blood of beasts as the goddess throws multiple happenstance benefits his way.

Too slow. I’m too slow and weak. My hate is not strong enough. I am forgetting my rage. If I could—

“Beyond that door are the gates to Tartarus.” Clotho’s staff tapped against the stone path in time with her measured steps. “Our journey is almost at its end.”

Medusa gulped as she blinked at the swirling gold embroidery lining the hem of Clotho’s robe. The goddess was an odd one. Unlike other deities, she barely showed awe-inspiring abilities. No element manipulation. No teleportation. No mumbled words in Theos tongue to banish Medusa’s burning fatigue.

But even though Medusa burned with curiosity about why Clotho was the way she was, she checked herself.

It was strange enough that when Medusa woke in the middle of the night before, the goddess was wide awake. She was seated in a meditative position, eyes blazing with light and tears tracking down her face. Medusa had quietly turned away, hugged Rico and forced herself back to sleep.

Finally, they reached the temple. It was even more rundown than it appeared from afar. There were toppled stone pillars about, and climbing vines clung to the temple’s crumbling stone walls. The only thing that stood out with a polished shine was the handle on the ancient wooden door.

“I wouldn't ask if you are ready,” Clotho said. There was a glint of enjoyment in her downturned eyes.

Heart thumping, Medusa clenched her clammy fingers as she waited. The transfer happened the instant the goddess twisted the door’s handle.

When Medusa regained her sight, she found herself standing in a vast arid plain and ahead stood the tallest gates she had ever seen. They had to be at least a hundred feet tall and appeared to be made of brass. The second thing that snagged her attention was the twin depictions of cyclops on their surface. The intricacy of the carving made it seem like their eye was alive and staring straight at her.

She shivered despite the harsh heat of the sun and took a step back only to bump into Clotho.

“Be calm.” The goddess rested a hand on Medusa’s shoulder. “It wouldn't harm you.”

Exhaling a long breath, Medusa glanced around. She frowned when she noticed they weren’t the only ones present. There were three men and Medusa sensed one was an ant deity. Judging from the simple chiton the mortals wore, they appeared to be attendants manning the carriages laden with crates.

“How long do I have to wait?” the deity asked in a loud irritable voice. He was a wispy small man with sharp black eyes and a harsh aura about him. “I’ve been here since five horai,” he shouted at the gate. “Lost four slaves.” He whirled to face the two attendants and jabbed a finger at the gate with a fierce scowl. “Go knock. Since you have my blood, you may survive.”

Medusa looked at the gate once more and noticed the piles of ashes. A wave of horror washed over her as understanding dawned. “He used the humans to…”

The colour leeched off the faces of the attendants at the deity’s command. “Master,” one of the attendants dared to speak up, “if we could just—”

An invisible force struck the attendant across the jaw. He staggered and caught himself from falling.

“Do as you are told or I shall strike you dead!” The deity’s face turned red with fury as bulging veins appeared at his temple. “Have you no confidence in my blood?”

“Then shouldn’t you knock?” Clotho stepped forward. If she was angry, it didn’t show in her face. “Have you no confidence in your blood?”

Desperate to flee the unfolding confrontation, Medusa glanced around. The land was a barren stretch of sunbaked earth and a few dead trees in the distance.

“Who are you?” A sneer twisted the deity’s face.

“I have no obligation to tell,” Clotho replied, a picture of perfect calm.

He took a threatening step forward. “I’m a deity of the high house of Plutus. I demand you introduce yourself,” he shouted in her face. “What house do you belong to that makes you so bold?”

Plutus was one of the wealthiest gods, second only to Athena. Most deities under his house were merchants and a good number managed the Bank of Athena. Medusa had met some of them when she served as a priestess in her first life. Arrogance and disdain for mortals were notable traits they all shared.

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Clotho gave no reaction at the mention of Plutus, her bored gaze remained as she blinked down at the seething deity. Medusa had witnessed Clotho exude her aura before, and it was far greater than the joke the ant deity was radiating.

“I-It would seem you have no fear.” Though still scowling, his fury lessened. “I was the first who knocked. But the gate—”

Turning away, Clotho strolled to the gate and rapped against it with her staff.

First, there was a loud click followed by a tremor. Medusa tensed up and braced for an earthquake that never came.

The eye of the cyclops slid shut before the gates opened and exposed a yawning blackness.

Clotho shot the ant deity a small smug smile. “What were you saying?”

His attitude transformation was instant. All smiles, he rushed forward and offered a deep bow. “I was foolish not to recognise the presence of a high deity. I am Tzavaras. Perhaps, you may have heard of me.”

Clotho stared at his bowed head like a queen bemused at a foolish subject. “Of course, I’ve heard of you. You are part of the Dachtylídi merchants, are you not?”

Tzavaras straightened, wonder brightening his eyes and grin stretching his lupine face to full capacity. “Yes! How did you—what am I asking? It would be remiss of me to ask which of the high gods you are seeing you're in disguise.”

Clotho waved a hand. “Do not concern yourself with me.” Her attention drifted to the attendants. “Treat your blood-carriers with more dignity, yes?”

“Of course. Of course,” Tzavaras said, all teeth and repeated bows.

“Oh, look.” Clotho gestured at the gates. “The keeper is here.”

A shapely blindfolded woman materialised from the darkness. For clothes, she wore a flowing black toga cinched at the waist, and in her grip was a balance scale. Medusa sensed no aura from her.

“Since you were here before us, approach first,” Clotho said before walking over.

“Thank you,” Tzavaras croaked, face still bright with wonder and curiosity as he stared after her. “You are most gracious.”

Ignoring him, Clotho grinned at Medusa. “So, what do you think? Is this a good distraction?”

Medusa understood Clotho’s meaning even without her speaking it out loud. “So far, yes.” Her fear of going to Tartarus was quickly being replaced with curiosity.

“Who wishes to pass?” The blindfolded woman’s voice was flat, and if one were not looking at her, it would be impossible to tell if it was a male or female speaking.

The merchant stepped forward. “Tzavaras of the house of Plutus.”

“And what do you offer?”

“Thirty high-grade aether stones.”

“What?” Medusa breathed as her head grew woozy at the ridiculous amount. Aether stones were the main forms of monetary exchange among deities. She was still confused about how they used it; something about harvesting.

Clotho chuckled. “I bet it wouldn’t be enough.”

Medusa gawked up at Clotho. “How?” All through her first life, she had seen high-grade aether stone exchange only once and the essence that poured from the stones had been overwhelming for her mortal body. The highest exchange she had witnessed was ten stones.

“Where do we get that insane amount from?”

“You worry too much.” Clotho chuckled as she patted Medusa’s shoulder. “Watch and be entertained instead.”

Tzavaras motioned to one of his attendants who hurried over with a sack. Even from a little distance, Medusa could sense the muted energy of the stones.

The blindfolded woman dropped the scale. One moment it was miniature and the next it grew five feet tall.

“Duration of pass needed?” She asked.

“Five years Merchant Pass for me and my two attendants,” Tzavaras said with a toothy grin.

A black feather and two greys appeared and settled on the right plate of the scale. “You may offer your payment.”

Tzavaras proudly marched forward and placed his payment on the scale. Instead of evening out, the scale tilted halfway.

Tzavaras deflated. “What is— Perhaps, h-has the fare increased since I—”

“You may offer your payment,” the woman repeated in that bland voice.

Sighing, Tzavara motioned at his attendant. Another sack was presented.

“What happens if we don’t have the gate fee?” Medusa asked.

“We would be forced to turn back and journey through the merciless Tartarus plains rumoured to be harsh enough to kill blood carriers,” Clotho said. “Oh, and this is a separate continent from Greece.”

“What!”

Clotho laughed and patted Medusa’s head.

Medusa was too worried to bother batting Clotho’s hand away. Another continent? In her previous life, travelling from one continent to another was a thing of ease thanks to the convenience of science. The case was different in Cosmolith.

There were tales of deadly barriers across the seas and oceans, tides that would rip sea vessels apart if they attempted to explore neighbouring continents. Only gods and a few favoured blood-carriers could freely move from continent to continent. And there were the other fables of great beasts that were impossible to describe and habited the continents bereft of gods’ blessings.

When the second sack was added to the first, the scale evened out and the stones vanished. Tzavaras released a sigh.

“The gates are open to you,” the woman said with a graceful wave.

Mumbling in discontentment, Tzavaras turned and yelled at his attendants to move the goods. Since there were no beasts of burden, the blood carriers must be telekinesis users. And to prove Medusa’s suspicion, the wagons began rolling forward.

Clotho waited for Tzavaras and his attendants to pass before she approached the keeper. Try as hard as Medusa may to relax, her heart wouldn’t stop thumping heavily.

The keeper turned in their direction. Though blindfolded, Medusa still felt thoroughly seen. “Who wishes to pass?”

“Irene of the house of Demeter.”

Medusa’s jaw dropped at the blatant lie, but Clotho’s expression remained the same—dreadfully bored and at ease with her deception.

“And what do you offer?” the gatekeeper asked, seeming not to notice Clotho’s deceit.

“One oboli.”

Medusa refused to believe what she heard. An oboli was the lowest denomination of mortal currency.

The goddess flicked her wrist, and the copper coin she pilfered off the shelf at Phorcydes’ materialised between her fingers.

“What is the duration of the pass you need?” the keeper asked, sounding unmoved by Clotho’s shocking payment offer.

“Ten years Full Pass for me and my mortal companion.”

One black feather and one white appeared. When they settled on the scale, it lowered like it did in the case of Tzavaras. “You may offer your payment.”

Clotho flipped the coin and Medusa watched it sail through the air and neatly fall on the scale plate with a clink.

It balanced perfectly.

“How?” Medusa muttered with a shocked exhale.

“The gates have been opened to you,” the keeper said with a graceful wave.

“Come,” Clotho beckoned.

Medusa walked over in a daze and let Clotho take her hand.

“Clench your teeth. Tartarus awaits,” the goddess said before pulling her in.