Medusa frowned. “Clotho?” She had never heard of a high goddess called Moirai Clotho.

“Ah, that Monolith.” Clotho sighed into her goblet. When she raised her head, her eyes were fierce. “I have a question for you. Promise to answer as candidly as you can.”

Medusa answered with a wary nod. “I also have… questions for you.”

Even though it was foolish to believe the words of a deity, Medusa needed answers. Returning to this accursed life came with the perk of knowing some future events, but the advantage paled in comparison to the catastrophe of randomly encountering a malevolent high god.

Clotho's expression appeared open and earnest. “I will answer your questions if I have the answers.”

Medusa eyed the goddess with suspicion. “How would I know you aren’t lying?”

“Child, you will have to take my word for it. I have no intention to harm you.”

When Medusa stonily stared at her, Clotho sighed and finished her drink in one gulp.

“Very well.” The goddess placed a hand on her chest. “I shall give you something higher than my word.

“May the Monolith hear me.” Though Clotho mumbled, her words were audible and seemed to move from Medusa’s left ear to her right. “I swear on my name, Moirai Clotho, that I mean Medusa, child of Phorcys and Ceto, no harm.” Her eyes glowed white before reverting to how they once were.

“Are you pleased now?” Clotho asked with a huff. “That was an honour oath in my name. I’m now incapable of causing you harm.”

Stubborn doubt stumped the spark of trust the goddess’ words ignited in Medusa’s heart. “What if you use another to harm me? What if there is a loophole in this oath?”

Medusa had seen the manipulation of deities and how ruthless they were when using and crushing mortals. They could never be trusted.

Clotho facepalmed before groaning at the starry ceiling. “It’s useless. Without some level of trust between us, this cannot work.”

The goddess shifted to her back. “I do not know whether I should feel insulted or sorry for you.” She waved in a shooing motion. “You may leave the same way you came in. Forget this encounter.”

Medusa warily stood. When Clotho did nothing, she began retracing her steps. All the while she walked away, she expected something to happen—some form of punishment for daring to be impudent in the presence of a high goddess. Nothing of that sort occurred.

When Medusa returned to the puddle, she dipped her foot into the water but didn’t meet a solid surface. She could swim back home.

Sitting cross-legged before the puddle, Medusa considered her situation. With high deities, nothing was as it seemed. Not once had she experienced the kindness of honest treatment in their hands.

Escaping Cosmolith to a relatively ordinary world had been a great relief. Even though Medusa’s resentment and rage ran deep, she had comforted herself with the knowledge that she was permanently severed from deities. Living through four circles of life had offered some healing, but the largeness with which deities loomed over the lives of mortals was too great. So absolute was that power that they managed to reach her in another world.

Could this deity have a solution? On the heels of that question came another bigger question. Would other high deities be able to know her story with a single glance her way?

The possibility chilled Medusa.

Rising to her feet, Medusa made her way back. Though she did not trust Clotho, the goddess had at least made an oath to show her trustworthiness. And it seemed like she held a grudge against high deities.

“You have returned.” Clotho remained reclined, eyes shut as if in sleep.

“Yes, I have.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“Why?”

“I have a question that bothers me.”

“I said I would answer your questions to the best of my knowledge. I also have questions for you. As powerful as I may seem, I do not know everything.”

Medusa pondered the statement as she took a seat. “You said something about what I have gone through and how I am not a child.”

“Yes, I did.” Clotho wove her fingers across her belly. She still appeared asleep.

“How did you know that? If other deities see me, would they know that as well?”

Clotho looked at Medusa. “I saw through you because of the type of existence I am. No deity can know what I know by looking at you except two other… beings.”

Medusa’s heart sank. “Who are they?”

Clotho’s eyes dimmed. She faced the ceiling once more and shut her eyes. “Even if I mention their names, you will not recognise them just as you did not recognise mine when I introduced myself.”

“But what if…” Medusa wove her trembling fingers. “What if I come across them or they find me out?”

“That is a probability that is highly unlikely,” Clotho said. “And even if it were to happen, allow it to be a problem for the future. What’s important is how well you use now, Medusa.” The corner of her lips kicked up in a subtle smile. “Who knows? If you’re well prepared, you may be able to protect yourself from high deities.”

Medusa’s head swam. The casual way the goddess said those words. “Please, do not say impossible things.”

A mortal attempting to protect themselves from deities was like a carp swallowing the sea.

“Impossible things. Is that what you think?” Clotho faced Medusa fully and propped her head on her fist. Her soft smile remained. “What if I told you there is a way?”

The notion was absolutely ridiculous. Medusa clenched her fingers tighter to hide their trembling. “Do not lie to me.”

“You continue to insult me, child.” Clotho shook her head as her eyes turned sad. “Can you not make deductions from what I shared with you? Do you think only lesser gods and mortals hold a grudge against high gods? I acknowledge your suffering, but understand that billions have suffered in the hands of deities for thousands of years.”

“I…” Medusa was suddenly at a loss for what to say.

What the goddess said was true, but her pain was personal. Medusa was no champion for the weak or betrayed. “My suffering is personal to me and I will not feel shame for being consumed by it.”

Medusa had no care for this place. Cosmolith could spontaneously combust and she would dance in the flames.

“I see.” Clotho took her goblet once more, attempted to take a sip and frowned when she noticed it was empty. She took Medusa’s abandoned cup and drank from it. “But I understand how you feel.”

Medusa deeply doubted that. “You do?”

“Yes.” Clotho’s gaze grew serious. “And for the first time in a very long time, I glimpsed a possibility to set things right when I saw you at the cliff.”

“You seem not to be joking, but let me remind you that I am mortal and my enemies are undying psychopaths.”

Clotho waved away Medusa’s words. “A mortal born to two deities? Where has that ever happened? Can a mortal scream like you did at the cliff?”

Medusa frowned when the goddess’s words registered. That scream at the cliff was beyond weird. “What are you saying?”

Could it be that she was not mortal? But that made no sense. Medusa had tasted death five times. Deities can’t die. She felt mortal through and through. There was no—

The sharp sound of a clap halted Medusa’s rampaging thoughts.

“Do not burden your mind,” Clotho said. “What you need to know will come to you at the right time.”

But it was hard not to wonder. Really, what was that shout at the cliff? Not once in Medusa’s other lives had she experienced something like that. “H-how do you know I will know at the right time?”

“Because I am Moirai Clotho,” the goddess answered with an easy shrug. “I only caught a glimpse of your potential, but what I saw was enough to convince me.”

“You speak as if there is a way I can be strong.”

“Speak fully, not in halves,” Clotho said with a subtle smile. “Say what you wish to do.”

Stupid hope winked on like a dot of light in deep darkness. “You speak as if there is a way I can go against the will of high deities.”

“There are possibilities and risks—risks of terrifying proportions.” Clotho's dopey eyes burned with a fervent light. “But with you, for the first time, I see a sturdy thread of hope.”

Those words ignited reckless hope. Medusa no longer cared if it was stupid. She would take the littlest of chances.

“Is there…” Medusa’s heart thumped heavily. “Is there a way to kill a high god?” She whispered.

A wicked grin curved Clotho’s lips. The action gave her face a conniving look that strangely did not terrify Medusa.

“It’s not too early to train your courage. Speak up, Medusa. Let my walls and constellations hear you.”

“Is there a way to kill a high god?” Medusa’s voice was stronger, firmer.

“I told you before.” Clotho raised her goblet in salute, her sly grin still in place. “You are full of possibilities, wildly beautiful and brutal possibilities. Yes, there is a way you can kill a high god, but before you run, you must crawl. Survival first, dear girl. Survival first.”