Medusa stretched her hand before her face and widened her eyes, yet she could see nothing. But she pressed on, grip tight around Clotho's hand and heart hammering.

Her vision suddenly returned after what felt like a full minute of wading through the fathomless darkness. Shielding her eyes from the assault of daylight, Medusa glanced behind in time to see Clotho emerge from a stone wall—which was weird because she distinctly remembered the goddess went in before her and she was holding her hand.

“The Western door. Convenient.” Clotho mused as she glanced around. They were in a narrow alley that stretched to a bustling street ahead.

Noises began to register. Clopping hooves, spinning carriage wheels, occasional lowing of beasts, and loud voices.

Medusa sensed it without taking another step forward. There was an otherworldliness about the air of this place. Gods and goddesses… lots of deities were here.

Apprehension surged as a suppressed terror pushed for the surface and rooted Medusa to the spot. A fierce desire to remain hidden in the shadowed alley gripped her. She could think of nothing else.

I am safe here. Out there… out there… deities in disguise. They would find me. Eyes everywhere, watching. They see everything. They know.

Cold sweat misted Medusa’s brow. Breathing became painful.

“Child.”

Medusa blinked hard. Again and again. This tightness in her chest would not relent. She massaged the spot. Black bled into her vision.

Run. I must run.

Apart from the deities, there was another worry. Humans.

They view me with terrified eyes. They die at a glance.

Shivering, Medusa hugged herself. Her fingers dug into the flesh of her arms as she muttered through trembling lips, “Please, don’t remember.”

From the cell holding the worst of her memories, a hand emerged and snatched her by the neck—forcing her to recall. And she let it happen. Memories rushed past in horrifying glimpses.

The fleeing crowd. How they screamed. An unfamiliar serpentine trunk instead of feet. Each movement was destruction. Shutting her eyes was impossible. Stone people mid-flight. Stone people everywhere. Some toppled and crumbled. A child forever frozen in a wail of terror. A weeping mother dead on her knees. That grating screech that came when Medusa sought to speak words—to explain and beg.

So much blood on my hands. I’m a beast. Evil. Perseus was right.

“MEDUSA.”

Medusa blinked as her vision focused on Clotho. The goddess was so close. She could see lines of gold in her brown eyes—those normally bored eyes were now wide with worry.

“I saw it, too.” Clotho pulled her into a tight embrace.

Medusa slowly blinked. She could feel the goddess’ racing heartbeat against her chest. How was that possible? Some form of advanced human imitative behaviour?

“I saw it, but it will not happen,” Clotho said, voice fierce and hug even fiercer. “I promise; it will not happen this time.”

“I am terrified.” Medusa bleakly stared over Clotho's shoulder. “I feel their presence.” Her voice sounded dead in her ears. The memories had sucked all that remained of her strength. “I cannot see them but they’re here. They wear mortal faces to deceive.”

Clotho pulled away. “Look at me.”

Medusa complied. How could Clotho look and feel so…human? How could her eyes reflect such warmth? It was messing with her mind.

“This may be hard to accept but not all deities revel in human suffering.” Clotho’s gaze turned imploring. “Think about your parents, your aunt, your sisters. Surely, there must be deities you’ve encountered that did not seek to cause you suffering.”

That was not the point. “It’s the helplessness. This feeling of being exposed.” Medusa hugged herself again. The apprehension wouldn’t leave.

“I assured you didn’t I?” Clotho sighed. “Without some level of trust between us, how can I help you?”

Medusa understood but her sense of self-preservation wouldn’t let her relax. And there was that other concern as well. She searched Clotho’s gaze. “You haven't told me.”

“Told you what?”

“What do you want from me? Why is a high deity helping a powerless mortal?”

A sad smile touched Clotho’s lips. Grip tightening around her staff, she heaved a breath as she stood. “I have a sister I wish to… rescue.”

“And you need a mortal to help you save a high deity?” Medusa would have laughed at the ridiculous notion but she wasn't in the mood. Everything felt so… depressingly clear—like her mask was suddenly ripped off and the true face of the monster was revealed.

The number of people she had killed in her first life flashed in her mind. It had taken her three lives to convince herself she was human and not a beast, but a single exposure of aether-rich air and she was back to square one.

Clotho slapped her forehead and groaned. “By the earth and sky, those distrusting eyes.”

Instead of giving a reply, Medusa mutely shrugged.

“You are on this path because of your grief—because of your lost family, yes? Me too. But the burden I carry, the crushing weight of that responsibility takes its toll here.” Clotho tapped her temple. “There is a limit to what I can do. When I saw you on that cliff, I saw a way. Yes, you can help me rescue my sister. Do you wish that I swear another oath in my name? What are your terms?”

Medusa shook her head. “That wouldn’t be necessary.” Clotho was a high deity; some loophole an ignorant mortal may never know could exist in the oath. “How can I help? You said there is a way I can kill deities. Do I have to kill deities to rescue your sister?”

Even as Medusa asked, she couldn’t get past the ridiculousness of the question. Kill gods? Ha! The outlandish claim was yet to fully settle in her, but she was willing to take any risk. If anything, the memory she just suffered through was a whip across the back, shaking her awake. That would be her future if she fails. And she could sense it, there was nowhere on Cosmolith she could run that a determined high deity wouldn’t locate her.

“Have you heard of the Fate of Heroes?”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“Some game blood carriers participate in.” Occasionally, profoundly foolish mortals joined in, daring to gamble for a deity’s attention.

“There are two ways you can awaken your ability to kill gods.” Clotho displayed two fingers. “You can become strong enough to win the games and demand Zeus’ Vow.”

A puzzled frown touched Medusa’s brow. She had never heard of such a term. “What’s that?”

“Every hundredth game of the Fate of Heroes, the winner gets to ask Zeus for anything.”

Medusa’s head swam. Why wasn’t this common knowledge? Zeus was the creator, the peak of power and wisdom. To meet such a being and ask for… “Anything?”

“Yes. Anything. If you wish to become a high god, if you wish for endless riches, or if you wish to become a ruling king or queen. Anything.”

“If I wish to kill gods?”

Clotho clicked her tongue. “No.”

“So, how does this benefit me? Why am I doing this if I cannot win and ask for the head of Athena or Poseidon?”

“Winning is a step closer to properly awakening something even stronger than the eye of petrification.”

“Does it have to do with that shout?” Medusa touched her chin and furrowed her brow. That was the only supernatural ability she had ever displayed. “It wasn’t strong enough to kill an ekhidna. It’s weak.”

“Not that. The other one you used to kill Perseus?”

Medusa’s frown deepened. “You are mistaken. Perseus killed me and not the other way round.”

“Oh…” Clotho muttered, “she can’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Medusa was beyond confused now. She had no recollection of killing Perseus. If such a satisfying incident occurred, she would remember it in great detail because she suffered from the scourge of perfect memory.

“I may have mixed things up in my mind.” Clotho made a face as if suddenly confused then turned away. “If you win, ask for my sister’s location. With her free, you will be closer to unleashing the power that can slay gods.”

Medusa considered Clotho’s words. The feeling of unease was absent, but she couldn’t tell if it was her naivety, the goddess’ manipulation or a sign that she was speaking the truth.

Seems like a gamble I must take.

“As you think about it, we should start moving.”

Medusa followed after Clotho but a wiggling in her satchel drew her attention. Rico. She had forgotten his existence from the moment she stepped into the gate. Taking him out of the bag, she rubbed his cold nose against her own, her heart squeezing as he yawned.

“Hey, Rico.”

“Allow him to sleep,” Clotho said as she walked on. “He would be drowsy for several horai because of the gate.”

Medusa carefully placed sleepy Rico back in the satchel. As they drew closer to the mouth of the alley, she performed breathing exercises.

I'm not a monster. I'm human. My gaze doesn't turn people to stone… yet.

“I can sense your anxiety,” Clotho said with a tut. “You wear a disguise, remember?”

Medusa had yet to check her appearance in a mirror, but she felt taller and her current body was athletic and gangly, the complete opposite of her original appearance. At least Rico still recognised her.

“I gave you the blandest of looks,” Clotho said. “It may be hard but do not worry about gods recognising you. That’s never going to happen.”

Her assurance was hard to swallow, but it wasn’t as if Medusa had a choice.

The alley opened to a market square and for the first time in Medusa’s life, she wished she had more than two eyes. There was simply too much to see. The smells in the air, the subtle hum against her skin, the many moving things and the sounds.

Despite her heart beating with anxiety, excitement was rising.

The food stalls held arrays of fruits she had never seen before. The sizzling sound of meat roasting over naked fire, and that smell. Medusa drew in a long breath and her mouth watered in response. She had not had a proper meal in days.

And the people milling about all seemed normal; the only thing making them appear strange in Medusa’s eyes was how some were dressed. The regular himation, peplos and chiton, could be spotted, but there were also attires she had never spotted in her first life… not that she had been that exposed to the outside world then. Loose pants and tunics with colours other than the regular white or cream. Headbands. Robes.

“Look over there.” Clotho steered her towards a street to their right and pointed up.

Medusa gawked at the towering statue in the distance. Though the surrounding structures partially obstructed her view, she spotted two more far ahead. Each warrior was frozen in a point of movement; one even held what resembled a spear.

“What are those?” Medusa asked, still gawking even as Clotho herded her down a less busy market street towards one of the statues.

“Dead Titans. There are a total of twelve in Tartarus.”

“But legend describes them as ordinary warriors.” Medusa craned her neck to get a better view and noticed something peculiar. The inhabitants had constructed what looked like structures around the statue's limbs, some even reaching the midsection and chest.

“Are those…” Medusa narrowed her gaze as she tried to be certain of what she was seeing. “Are those buildings? And how did the high deities defeat the Titans? The legends said nothing about them being giants.”

“That’s because whatever you know about legends were carefully crafted lies mixed with a sprinkling of truth,” Clotho said in a solemn voice.

Medusa was not surprised at the revelation. If someone had told her this in her early years as a priestess, she would have spat in their faces for blaspheming the gods, but now she doubted everything.

Clotho nodded at the statue. “The statues are aether conduits. Do you feel a hum in the air?”

Medusa nodded. “Since I got here.” It was a milder but similar reaction to what she experienced whenever she was around aether stones

“That's aether. And they used it to keep the buildings attached to the statues like two opposite magnetites meeting.”

Medusa shook her head in wonder. “That’s brilliant… and risky.”

“Ah, don’t worry. Those have been attached for years and years and years. Matter of fact, we are heading to one of those buildings.”

Medusa gulped.

They finally left the market behind and continued through winding streets. Clotho had apologised for making them walk all the way, joking about how she had no money—not even an oboli to her name.

“...Yet. I have no oboli yet.” There was a conniving glint in her sleepy eyes as she said the words. “But I promise that before the day ends, I’ll be one of the richest beings in Tartarus.”

Medusa had only hummed in answer. She had been too busy staring at the massive sandaled feet of the statue. They were much closer now after nearly… Medusa wished for a watch. Being able to conveniently tell the time in her fifth life had been a privilege she never trivialised. Since Clotho claimed to be dirt poor, Medusa doubted the goddess had a water clock on her.

The structures closer to the statue were more sturdily built, many seeming luxurious. Medusa spotted opulent inns, merchant guilds, a large sports arena with shirtless loud athletes heading in and out, and what looked like a school, which struck Medusa as odd. A place of learning in Tartarus? She suddenly wished to share her thoughts with someone; usually Antonii always listened. A bitter pang pierced her heart.

At least, she hadn’t spotted any temple yet. Which was a relief. What Clotho shared about Tartarus seemed to be true. Here, even though she could sense the presence of gods, there was no outward show of their presence.

“Ah, she is here already,” Clotho said as she waved.

Ahead was a woman with a small stature wearing a flowing black stola with full sleeves that sharply contrasted the paleness of her skin.

When they reached her, she held Clotho’s hand reverently and mumbled words in Theos tongue. Now that Medusa was closer, she observed her. She possessed a doll-like beauty with small scarlet red lips, red-rimmed eyes with thick lashes and short black hair… which was odd. Women in the Grecian continent kept their hair long. Well, this wasn’t Greece.

Clotho smiled and responded in Theos tongue. Their greeting made them seem like two politicians—Clotho the friendly diplomatic one and the doll, reserved but deeply respectful.

I will introduce you by another name.

Medusa frowned as Clotho suddenly spoke to her through their mind link.

Alright, Medusa warily responded.

I trust her, but for the plan to go smoothly, it’s better if no one knows Phorcys’ daughter is in Tartarus.

Just then, Clotho turned and gestured to Medusa with a smile.

“I would like you to meet May, daughter of Venetis. May, this is Demeter. Pay your respect.”

Medusa’s eyes widened. She could not tell which was more shocking. The fact that she was standing before one of the topmost goddesses of Cosmolith, Demeter the high goddess of harvest, or Clotho calling Medusa by the name she possessed in her former life.

“This mortal greets the high deity.” Medusa bowed.

It was not until they boarded a horse-drawn cushioned carriage that Medusa recalled that Clotho never told her the second way she could awaken the ability to kill gods.