77. The Weight of a Titan
"We should stagger your blindfold training," Hippolyta said as she led Medusa to the stone basin at the centre of the room. "No more than two sessions per week, then training with the queen once in two weeks. Is this something you can manage?"
"Yes," Medusa replied as she took in the place. It was a spacious room with the expected colourful murals of horses and warriors across the walls and ceiling. There was only one door, and instead of windows, circular air vents lined the upper edges of the walls.
"I will be checking your progress monthly," Hippolyta said dully. Though she didn't look hungover from last night's party, she sure sounded drained. "Hopefully, at the end of six months, you will be tougher than the toughest blood carrier in the games."
Did you not hear that my sister, a low deity, will be participating? No amount of blood carrier grit can beat that. But Medusa nodded.
Athena's owl had delivered unexpected news at the crack of dawn. The Fate of Heroes would begin in the first week of the month of the Raven.
Six months to kill Poseidon, a god rumoured to be stronger than Athena.
Medusa blew a shaky breath. It had to be done.
Facing the vermin had to be done. If she died while at it, well.
.. I've lived long enough anyway. As for Atropos, to preserve her peace of mind, Medusa decided to dump that problem at Clotho's feet.
After all, the Moirai had insisted with great confidence that she could handle her sister.
"I'll return in two horai," Hippolyta mumbled before leaving.
For a silent moment, Medusa stared at the basin holding a glowing aether stone and needle. The last time she met her curse had been full of unpleasant revelations. Things she didn't want to give a second thought to but knew she must soon face.
She put our head on a pike and used our eyes against her enemies—
Shoving the thought aside, Medusa made quick work of adding her blood to the water and tying on the blindfold.
Then she opened her eyes to an unexpected sight. Gone was the expected dim expanse, and in its place was a garden awash in warm light. She frowned, worried there might have been an error, then she turned and spotted her.
Amidst the ornamental trees and vibrant flowerbeds, her curse sat still with her legs folded. Her great height appeared the same, and her eyes were shut as if she were asleep. A breeze swept past, disturbing her hair, and the sunlight cast a shadow against her—Wait. Sunlight?
Medusa looked up, noting for the first time the blue sky holding an actual sun. There was even a feeling of warmth against her skin. She took a sniff. There was a light smell of flowers in the air as if she were standing in a real-life garden. What happened in the weeks she last saw her curse?
As if hearing Medusa's question, her curse opened her eyes and released an annoyed huff. "What took you so long?"
"Eh?" Medusa blinked owlishly, confused. Was there a previous agreement to meet? What's going on?
"And you've grown." Her gaze surveyed Medusa from head to toe.
Medusa looked down at herself. She did appear taller now that she compared her height to the surrounding trees. Perhaps taller than when she faced the drakon.
"I see that," Medusa mumbled. She attempted to shift to her gorgon form, and to her surprise, her body obeyed. Fascinated, she did it a few more times and only stopped when her curse laughed.
"I didn't only mean growing physically." Then her smile dimmed. "We'll be facing that man soon."
Medusa reverted to her human form as her excitement cooled. "You... you think we can defeat him?"
"We must defeat him." Her eyes flashed with a determined light. "And as I think of it, using petrification alone is mercy. You think the same, don't you?"
Medusa nodded. It was a thought that crossed her mind on several occasions. Petrification seemed painless from what she observed. It felt like a great injustice for Poseidon to die so easily after centuries of gleeful torture and murder.
"My thoughts exactly." A dark look eclipsed her face. "So I tinkered with the key, and it opened my eyes to a possibility. When an opportunity came our way, I ensured we took it."
"Huh?" Medusa looked in time to see her curse hold out her hands with her palms facing up.
"Clotho sacrificed some of her essence to save our life, remember?
" In her left hand, a ball of golden light appeared, hovering inches above her palm like a will-o'-wisp.
"But Atropos, The Stingy. We had to steal hers.
" A ball of dark smoke-like matter appeared above her right palm.
Though it was not as large as the golden light, it felt more volatile as it spun and pulsed in a chaotic rhythm.
"To give the punishment Poseidon deserves, these two and the key would bring about a... sufficient means." She was smiling now, but there was nothing warm about the action.
As Medusa watched the dark energy, realisation dawned. "It was you," she whispered. "It was you guiding my hand, wasn't it?"
Her curse snorted. "We have a desire. I found a way to achieve the said desire. The end."
Medusa frowned. Though she felt no remorse for taking from Atropos, the same was not the case with Clotho. Clotho had saved her that day. Giving her energy to—
"Yes, she saved our life," her curse cut in, "but did you forget that she saved us from a wound that wouldn't have existed if her murderous sister hadn't stabbed us?
" Her voice hardened with each word. "And she abandoned us.
Abandoned us for weeks before that.
Do not think for a moment that Clotho isn't using us too. "
Yes, Clotho was using them in some way, but—
"But nothing." She faced Medusa squarely, the air around her forming roiling mirages. "I understand true selfishness is hard for someone recovering from Athena's brand of brainwashing, but it's time to wake up."
Medusa bristled. "I am awake. And Athena's influence is gone from my mind."
She waved as if dismissing a naive child. "If that helps you sleep at night."
"I'm free from her influence," Medusa repeated. That using Clotho's energy pricked at her conscience didn't mean she was brainwashed.
Her curse's gaze softened. "Look, there is no betrayal here. Clotho freely gave us her energy, poured it in waves. What we do with a gift is completely up to us."
Medusa fell silent as her mind worked. Knowing Clotho, she may have given so much with a future agenda in mind. All without giving Medusa any detail. Then, shouldn't it be okay to use what was given?
But then there's the possibility of drawing both Clotho and Atropos' ire. That her curse didn't feel any anxiety about using the Moirai's energy was disconcerting. Were they really the same person?
"It's you who has forgotten. All these beings you fear have never tasted death, even Atropos.
But we have. Five times. Circles of death.
It takes a certain kind of mental strength to persevere without slipping into madness.
" She looked Medusa squarely in the eye.
"Once you accept that the worst they can give is death, there lies true freedom. "
"But there are things worse than death."
A bitter look coloured her face. "We have no choice then. We either grow impervious to those things or become a worse existence."
She waved, and the key appeared between them, floating in place and pulsing with a turbulent amber energy trapped in its middle.
"You are terrified because you're ignorant of what we have." Her voice grew gentle as she focused on the key. "When our resonance is complete, even Atropos would be forced to negotiate. And those deities?" Her expression hardened. "They'll remember to fear death."
That familiar dome of logic that kept Medusa's thoughts contained shifted into something different. A new but welcome confidence. The worst is death, and if there is something worse, become that.
"Yes." Her curse nodded, appearing deeply pleased. "And I saw that you broke into your titan form recently. Let's check." She pushed to her feet.
Medusa stood as well. The last time they compared heights, she stood as tall as her knees, but now she reached her hip.
"Huh?" The implication of her curse's words stunned Medusa to stillness. "Titan?"
"Yes." She took two mighty steps forward and hunkered to her level.
The key continued to hover between them.
"Prometheus managed to lock the titanification rune in this.
" She tapped it with a clawed finger, generating a tink-tink sound.
"And I've been exploring the key for us, looking through our husband's eyes to seek even more advantages. "
"Oh." Dozens of possibilities poured in. She wanted to see him in every life. How he lived as Prometheus. As Anthonii too. "Do you have access to his lives on earth?"
"The bulk of what the key hold is limited to his life as Prometheus." Her curse clicked her tongue. "Quite disappointing, really."
"I see," Medusa murmured, ignoring the pang in her chest. "Then do you know how to undo the general's oath?"
Her curse straightened before shrinking to Medusa's size. "That's information you have to earn."
Medusa perked up. "You truly know how to undo it?"
"Why should I lie?" She grabbed the key, and it vanished into her palm. "I learned our husband also used the general's oath on the Titans. Granted, they willingly accepted the bond, but isn't that taking away their autonomy?"
"He did it to end wars," Medusa replied immediately, feeling a strange compulsion to defend him even in death.
"Pfft." She shook her head, eyes bright with mirth. "Just know that our dear Anthonii, the one we've so carefully placed on a golden pedestal, acted with great selfishness. On multiple occasions."
Medusa gave up the pressing need to defend Anthonii's morality. At the end of the day, she never really knew the man she married. "Fine." She looked around, desperate to escape the conversation. "I came for the training. When do we start?"
Her curse rubbed her palms together, a sinister smile forming on her lips. "I planned out something perfect. You'll hate it." Then she quickly added, "AT FIRST. You'll only hate it at first, then we'll grow from there."
"We'll train your human form before the gorgon."
Though Medusa could hear her curse's voice, she was nowhere in sight.
Like in her past training, her location had changed, but this time she was at the Norse homeland of her third life.
It felt too real. Even the breeze's scent was familiar, soothing her soul to a level she wasn't aware she'd missed so much.
From the height she stood, she could see the rolling mountains and the fjord that opened into the Baltic Sea.
"As you improve, I'll share hints. You already know where the third monolith vein is, yeah?"
"Sarpedon?" Having a vision of the island after emptying the last monolith vein gave a hint. "Am I correct?"
"Yes," the curse answered cheerily. "And I know the remaining locations."
Of course you do. Medusa could scarcely wait for the resonance to occur so she'd stop feeling so ignorant.
"As you improve, I can use my knowledge as a reward."
Before Medusa could reply, her location changed. Now she stood in the middle of a familiar clearing where spars, wrestling matches, and duels were held. Unlike her earlier training sessions, spectators were present.
"What is this?"
"The first lap," Her curse answered breezily as if the answer made sense. "I took care to get every detail right."
As a spakona of the Ivarr Clan, Medusa had no business participating in duels or spars. And in her 106 years as a seer, she had never witnessed a woman break this tradition, but it seemed her curse had other ideas.
So many familiar faces, all laughing, drinking and cheering in preparation for the duel. Jarls from neighbouring clans were also present, so the crowd was especially large.
"If you look ahead," her curse said, "you'll see that I have provided the most appropriate opponent."
Half-expecting Perseus, Medusa looked and made a face.
A familiar figure sauntered into the clearing to the boisterous cheer of the crowd. Large, bearded and bearing a long scar that cut from his left shoulder down to his right hip. He flashed an easy grin as he raised one of his axes to an even louder cheer.
Her grip tightened around her... daggers? She noticed for the first time that she was holding weapons and was also unusually dressed. Gone were her expected staff, dress and robe; in their place were a loose tunic and trousers tied with thin leather strips around her calves.
"Why?" Medusa asked as a mild annoyance buzzed. "Why him?"
"Is that even a question?" There was a smile in her voice. "I found his attempts to befriend us quite wholesome."
Medusa scowled. It can't be what she was thinking. "Surely, he's not—"
"He is exactly who you think he is," the curse answered. "Our dear husband suffered from hardcore wanderlust. Do you know he explored two other universes? Even got married at least seven times before us. That's what? Eight widows with the memory of him."
Medusa stumped on the ugly feeling twisting her belly. Now that she considered it, Cuauhua also got married. Even though her second life was the first time they met and she hadn't been attracted to him, it stung now that she knew who he really was.
Relax. You're being irrational.
"Why tell me who he is?" The strange feeling churning in her gut certainly had nothing to do with the man strolling over with that stupid grin.
He raised a fist in the direction of the chiefs. Medusa looked and, to her shock, saw her third life self sitting at the tail end of the table.
She had a beautiful face then, and the only thing that saved her from being married off was another birthmark on her arm.
The midwives had rejoiced at the sight, and the head seer had confirmed that she indeed bore the mark of Odin.
Unlike her second life, the birthmark was a symbol of reverence.
Medusa had clung to her role as a seer. Freshly scarred from the trauma of yet another horrifying death, she resolved to devote herself to a quiet, solitary life.
When she said she intended to remain unmarried in her service to Odin, her parents had grumbled but conceded. She moved to the seers' longhouse when she turned twenty and scarcely interacted with her family after that.
All had been quiet and good until Halfdan showed up.
A valiant seaman from a neighbouring clan, the third son of old chief Dagr and beloved by all.
He was too friendly, easily mixing with everyone.
He would ignore the veil of formality expected when interacting with a spakona, pester her with unending questions and frequently visit her longhouse to request divination and blessings he clearly didn't believe in.
There were gifts too. Seal fat, sheep now and then and fish from his catch.
She had done well to harden her heart, sticking to her resolve to shun close ties after relationships burned her twice.
Soon, he relented and vanished from her life.
She later heard he died in battle at forty-six.
For a person who abhorred wars, he sure seemed to participate freely, both as Cuauhua and Halfdan.
"Do you remember this day?"
Medusa looked at her former self, seated with a placid expression amid the jarls and their favoured wives.
She had been twenty-four when the northern clans fought a warring band of Slavs known for land grabbing.
Perhaps this was one of the days after their victory.
To confirm, she looked to her right and spotted two war prisoners.
"I remember." It was a duel for their honour. Die fighting or be slaughtered like sheep and hanged for Odin. Three men chose to fight. Now that Medusa thought of it, if those were the men, did that mean she was the third? But she was a—
"Woman? No," her curse said, laughter in her voice. "Today, you'll be a man."
Curious, Medusa took in her appearance once more. She did feel taller, but despite the added muscle mass, she felt light on her—
A sudden heaviness pressed upon both shoulders before seeping through her skin and infecting muscles and bones. Her joints ached under the crushing assault, and the slightest movements felt slow and exaggerated.
"Your strength will remain the same. But the weight would not, and you must learn to fight with it. You must also learn to move with ease as you bear the incremental weight of a titan."
"Ha." The sound came out as a laborious huff. The fighting hadn't even begun, and fatigue was already setting in."
"Speaking of fatigue. Your vitality and endurance are pitiful." There was a chirpy note in her voice. "I'll be expecting improvement."
The incremental weight of a titan? Medusa recalled those towering statues in Tartarus proper. Each had stood at least 60 metres tall. Even a tenth of a tenth of their weight would flatten her. Just how much of that weight was pressing down on her? A third? Cause it felt like a—
"Oh, stop being a baby. This is far less than one per cent of an average titan's weight."
"I don't believe you." Pressure increases at the back of her eyes, and she noticed belatedly that her teeth were clenched as she struggled to remain upright."
"You're holding up well. I'm so proud," the curse said, sounding pleased. "Know that our dear Halfdan will fight with a standard low-deity's vigour that will continue to increase as you adjust. Fight with aether alone. No Monolith energy."
Another handicap. Medusa huffed a breath as a bead of sweat slid down her temple. "Why?"
"Why not?" Her curse asked. "Do you plan to use the Monolith's energy at the games? Quick way to make Zeus tear us apart."
"Fine," Medusa spat through still clenched teeth. Now her ears were throbbing from the crushing pressure.
Gripping her daggers tighter, Medusa looked at Halfdan's axes. It had grip grooves, with a polished head that gleamed with menacing sharpness. His weapon choice would be a problem. Dagger against an axe was a tad impractical.
Someone started talking in a loud voice. "These sloven thralls wish to fight for their death. And Halfdan here, son of chief Dagr, has chosen to do the honour."
Even more cheer.
Halfdan watched her with a bored gaze. Though he appeared relaxed, Medusa was not deceived. She could sense waves of aether pour off him, and he was the only one releasing the energy in the crowd.
"Now eat, drink and be entertained."
More of her memories of this day returned.
Halfdan had massacred all three warriors with terrifying ease.
At first, he played with them, clashing weapons with exaggerated movements and giving the audience a show.
Then, once he felt the crowd was sufficiently entertained, he surged with overwhelming strength. At least he made their deaths quick.
He cocked his head. "What sort of warrior uses a kitchen knife?"
"Now that I think of it, he's quite handsome."
"Shut up," Medusa spat as she brought her hands to her mouth and dragged her fang across her palms. The daggers hummed in her grip when she smeared them with blood. Strangely, her aether reserve didn't feel as full as it should. And this stupid weight pressing down on—
He attacked without warning. A subtle shift in his stance. Blink, and he was in her face, smashing his forehead against hers.
Thunderous pain exploded from the spot as stars burst across her vision. The force of the attack was so strong that her mind slipped, giving an illusion of detachment from her body. The titan weight vanished, and in its place was a throbbing flare of pulsing agony.
I'm airborne, but I can't feel the wind. Why can't I feel the wind?
In her stunned confusion, Medusa failed to cushion her fall, and her limbs suffered for it. The tearing pain snatched her from her dazed state, and the weight returned, pressing her to the ground. Her nose was bleeding, and her eyes, watery from pressure, could only blink at the sky.
In the background, the roar of the crowd erupted, and along with it a series of heavy, fast approaching thumps.
He's coming. I need to move.
Gritting her teeth, Medusa strained, forcing her healing limbs to move. Did the curse tamper with her aether reserve? Her reaction time should have been faster, even with the stupid weight.
"I tampered with nothing save for the added weight," her curse answered. "Your training with Lysander and Ares. That duel with your sister. They were all holding back, but handsome Halfdan will not insult you by holding back."
In his spars and duels, he fought with beastly abandon. Weapons, bare hands, the environment. Everything. Now he has aether to back all that up.
The moment Medusa managed to sit up, he was before her, looming like a silhouette of death with the sun at his back.
Frantic, Medusa pulled her discarded daggers to her grip and slashed upward.
But he was faster.
A casual downward swing. Instant death, then the loop began.