6. Perseus #3
“Here we go.” Perseus leaned back in his chair, grinning.
“Shut it, Perseus,” she said. “This is important.” Medusa reminded Qhatu about the artist she’d spoken to when they first arrived.
“Oh, right,” he said, rubbing his gloved hands together against the morning chill. “Okay, let’s go there first.”
They wound through the narrow lanes of Vale Crossing’s artisan quarter, icy slush crackling underfoot. When they reached the stall, a young man was standing outside.
Medusa eyed him with interest. “He must be the brother,” she murmured. “He’s magical, around a five.”
“Seriously?” Perseus muttered under his breath, casting the guy a once-over.
“Yes,” she said firmly.
The young man straightened as they neared, his tousled brown hair brushing just beneath his ears.
His deep olive skin glowed warm in the winter sun, and a vivid teal scarf coiled around his neck like a splash of ocean against the neutral tones of his oversized sweater, which was flecked with dried paint in a riot of colors.
The sweater’s sleeves were shoved up to reveal slender forearms, each etched with swirling, abstract tattoos that seemed to shift and flow as he moved.
They walked up to the little stall, colorful panels of painted wood propped all around it, each with vivid scenes of Vale Crossing’s mountains.
Qhatu stepped forward with an easy nod. “Hey, were you the artist here before the storm?” He gestured to his companions. “I’m Qhatu, and this is Medusa and Perseus.”
“I’m Elian,” he shook his head. “Nah, that was my sisters. Hang on—” He turned his head and bellowed into the shadowy interior of the stall, “Zara! Liora! Get out here!”
Two voices answered at once—a bright, “Coming!” followed by a grumbled, “Ugh, hold on, I’m finishing a line!”
Perseus arched a brow. “Triplets?”
Elian grinned. “Yup.”
Moments later, two young women emerged, wiping their hands on paint-splattered aprons.
Elian gestured between them as they approached.
“These are my sisters—Zara and Liora.” Zara had a cascade of dark curls tied up with a scarf, her eyes the same warm brown as Elian’s, sparkling with curiosity.
Liora, in contrast, wore her hair in a sharp undercut and eyed the newcomers warily, a pencil still tucked behind one ear.
Medusa smiled faintly. “Nice to meet the whole crew.”
He caught the slight tilt of Medusa’s head, the twitch at the corner of her mouth—confirmation enough that she saw it. These weren’t ordinary artists.
Perseus cleared his throat, getting straight to the point. “We’d like to talk to you about something.”
Elian tilted his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “This wouldn’t have to do with us being magical, would it?”
Perseus let out a small sigh.
Elian crossed his arms loosely. “I can sense your aura, and you’re definitely not human.”
There it was. No sense pretending otherwise. Figures they’d clock us right away. Gorgons, sea wolves…we’re not exactly low-wattage.
“Correct,” Medusa said crisply.
Zara stepped forward. “Why don’t we go into our studio? It’s warmer inside—and private.”
Without waiting for an answer, she turned and led the way. Perseus and Medusa exchanged another look, then fell into step behind the triplets, following them into the depths of the stall.
Inside the studio, the scent of paint and incense drifted in the air, and canvases leaned against the walls—some half-finished, others swirling with movement and color, abstract forms that hinted at wings, shadows, and sky.
The six of them gathered around a scarred wooden table, mugs of something warm already being poured by Zara with quiet efficiency.
Perseus didn’t waste time. “We’re looking for geryon descendants.”
Liora didn’t blink. “We’re geryons.”
Medusa leaned forward, eyebrows lifting. “You are?”
Zara nodded, handing her a mug. “Yes. Our family is originally from Vale Crossing. Our great-great-great- grandfather left when he was young, before the magic faded. We grew up knowing the stories of Cyncus and the magical pyxis.”
“That’s great,” Perseus said, surprised at how easy that part had been. “It’s rare that anyone knows their ancestry that clearly.”
“We do,” Elian gave a small shrug. “But we don’t widely share it. Too many questions. Too many people who don’t believe in magic—or want to exploit it.”
“That makes sense,” Medusa said.
Perseus drew in a breath. “Eros is planning to release Cyncus’s magic back into the world. When that happens, all his descendants will…change. The magic will activate whether you’re ready or not.”
Zara’s eyes widened. “You mean…we’ll get our wings?”
“Yes,” Perseus said. “But you’ll also have a choice. If you’d like, you can go to Vale Crossing before the release. It’s protected. There are people there who can help you through it—and teach you how to use what you’ll gain.”
Liora looked at her siblings, then back at Perseus. “And you’re tracking everyone down before it happens?”
He nodded. “We’re trying. But to confirm everything, we’ll need to do a blood test. Just to verify lineage.”
Zara’s expression shifted—equal parts wonder and caution. “And if the test’s positive?”
“Then you’ll get your wings. And a choice,” Medusa said gently. “Not a command.”
The triplets exchanged a look—silent but layered with meaning, the kind only siblings carried. Elian set down his mug. “Okay. Let’s do the test.”
Perseus was honestly impressed with how smoothly the conversation had gone.
After so many awkward introductions and cagey descendants, he hadn’t expected the triplets to be this grounded—or this open.
It helped that they already knew who they were.
And it helped even more that they weren’t panicking.
He leaned back slightly. “This went better than I expected,” he murmured to Medusa, just under his breath.
A corner of her mouth twitched in amusement before she faced the siblings again. “Do any of you have particular abilities?”
Liora nodded, folding her arms. “We’ve each had something since we were kids. It’s subtle but persistent.”
She glanced at her siblings as if gaining their permission to speak first.
“Elian,” she said, jerking her chin toward him, “sees magical auras. Patterns of energy, too. He can tell when someone’s hiding something supernatural—or if an object’s been enchanted.”
Elian gave a modest shrug. “It’s not dramatic or anything. Just layers of light and texture around people or things. Sometimes it’s strong, like yours,” he said, glancing at Perseus and Medusa. “Sometimes faint.”
“Zara,” Liora continued, “feels emotional echoes. Like impressions. She can tell what someone was feeling in a space, or pick up on intentions they’re not saying aloud.”
Zara raised her eyebrows. “Useful when dealing with customers,” she said dryly. “Also annoying when someone’s lying and I have to pretend not to know.”
Perseus chuckled, but his gaze shifted to Liora. “And you?”
She tapped her sternum once. “Bloodline resonance. I feel when someone nearby shares the same geryon lineage. Not exact matches, but it’s like a pull. And sometimes I get flashes—symbols, half-formed memories that aren’t mine. Like the ancestors whispering, almost.”
Perseus sat forward, intrigued. “That could help us find others.”
Liora nodded once. “That’s what I was thinking.”
“You three could be the key to tracking the rest of them.” Medusa looked impressed.
Zara smiled. “We’ve always worked better together.”
Perseus exhaled slowly, feeling a strange weight lift from his shoulders.
This—finally—was a real lead.
Qhatu leaned forward. “Are there other geryon descendants in the village?”
Zara nodded. “A few. But none of them have powers—or if they do, they’re buried deep.”
“Would you be willing to introduce me to them?” he asked.
“Of course,” Elian said without hesitation.
Perseus looked at the three of them again, studying the way they instinctively mirrored each other’s posture, the subtle shifts in energy between them. “Any other powers?”
Liora’s lips curled into a slow grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”
She stepped a little closer to her siblings. “The real magic? It happens when we’re together.”
The shift was almost immediate. As they formed a loose triangle, the studio space seemed to hum faintly—Perseus could’ve sworn the air thickened, like something unseen folding inward.
“When we focus,” she said, her voice low and electric, “our senses merge into one stream. What Elian sees, what Zara feels, and what I resonate with—it all fuses. We get a kind of…panoramic vision. Like a supernatural 3D map of the room.”
Zara added, “We see not just if someone is magical, but how . What kind. Their emotional state. Their connections—bloodline, spiritual, ancestral.”
“And those connections,” Elian said, “they appear like threads. Glowing lines of power. Sometimes symbols float in the air—ancient ones. And if the blood is strong, we see echoes of their ancestors too. Holographic, kind of.”
Perseus blinked. “So…basically, you become a magical scanner?”
“With commentary,” Liora deadpanned.
Medusa let out a low whistle. “Damn. You really are the key.”
Liora folded her arms, her grin still lingering. “We’ve only ever tried it here, in town. On people we know are geryon, like our cousins. So yeah—we know it works.”
“We don’t just go around broadcasting people’s lineage, though,” Zara added, glancing between them. “Consent matters.”
“We ask first,” Elian nodded. “Always.”
Perseus nodded, a flicker of respect stirring. “Good boundaries,” he said. “That’s a rare commodity.”
Liora gave a theatrical bow. “We’re magical, not rude.”
Medusa snorted.
“Can you show us how it works?” Perseus asked.
Zara lifted a brow. “Got a confirmed geryon we can point it at?”
“You,” Medusa said casually. “You’re geryon.”
“Fair enough,” Liora said. “Just don’t freak out when it gets a little glowy.”
They moved in close—barely shoulder to shoulder—and as their hands subtly brushed, something shimmered in the air between them. Light twisted like threads of gold and red and blue, weaving a shape that hovered over Liora like a constellation strung together with symbols Perseus didn’t recognize.
Zara’s voice was quiet. “Lineage: direct. Power: active. Emotional tone: curious. Wary. Protective.”
Liora blinked, the glow fading. “It’s like a living diagram.”
“Impressive,” Medusa said, sounding genuinely intrigued.
Perseus just murmured, “Yeah. We need you three.”