85. The Titan In The Room #2
The truth of her aunt's words struck like blows. What was the use of power if it solely sat in her hands? Who made her believe she could take the lives of the powerful while they helplessly offered their necks?
"That is where you are wrong, sister." Phorcys broke the silence. "There are many in our numbers—many willing to do anything to end this torturous existence."
"Is that so?" Sorrow dimmed Phorcydes' eyes. "The singleness of your focus is your biggest weakness. Mark my words, brother. Among those you claim desire to die, spies dwell within. Zeus is no fool. He uncovered your treachery two centuries ago, and he will do so again."
Medusa gulped, not at all liking the possibilities her aunt's words painted.
"And you know what's worse this time?"
Phorcys calmly resumed eating.
"You have even more to lose."
When her brother said nothing, she threw her hands. "Fine."
She returned to Medusa. "Before you become a weapon in the hands of those who seek nothing but death, think carefully and selfishly. What do you want?"
"I..." No words came.
"The other day with the ekhidna, you reminded me of what I had long forgotten. The fear of death." The corners of her lips drooped. "Quite humbling."
"That is the existence of every mortal," Phorcys coolly said. "Or have you forgotten that that was what we all were before this perversion was forced on us?"
Phorcydes huffed and rolled her eyes. "Yet, this is my life now. I've adapted to immortality the same way they've accepted their mortality."
Instead of responding, Phorcys faced Medusa. "Do not risk your life in some misguided attempt to free me. I have killed a number you cannot imagine. These thorns are well deserved."
"So you now wish to place the execution blade in the hands of your child?"
"That was not the method I imagined," he answered in an even voice. "But yes, when the time comes, I am willing to accept it."
"Ha!" Phorcydes facepalmed.
Phorcys' gaze did not waver. "My child, I give you permission to end my life."
A great wave of rejection surged within Medusa. For an ugly moment she allowed herself to imagine turning her father to stone like she had done to others in the past.
"No..." First it came as a whisper. Then Medusa shook her head, her voice growing firmer. "No. I don't think I can."
"You see?" There was a smug look on Phorcydes' face. "Medusa is no general used to committing mass murder. Even if she were, to kill family is something else. You need to soften that cold heart of yours, brother..."
Medusa tuned out Phorcydes' voice as she stared at her hands.
They were trembling harder. The key pulsed more intensely in her sternum, and her eyes stung in that unmistakable way they did whenever her petrification gaze was slipping from her control.
Unbidden, an image appeared over her vision.
Everyone at the table petrified, their screams of terror frozen in time before they crumbled to dust.
Medusa shot to her feet, her chair toppling from the force of her movement.
"Medusa," Ceto called softly, half-rising to her feet. "Do not listen—"
"Thanks for dinner, but my appetite has left me." Medusa kept her throbbing eyes downcast as she hurried away.
Thankfully, no one followed her back to the villa.
How could her father ask that of her? How? Then what were those pockets of affection he showed her? If he were given a rational reason to kill his daughters, would he do it? Clotho said immortality was a disease of the mortal mind; was that what this was?
If the goal is to end the gods, do not think your family will be spared.
Again, Lachesis' words mocked her. How easy it was for her to go on about killing immortals. Now that the possibility was in her hand, nothing but horror filled her. She had even baulked when Ares asked the same thing of her.
"What do you want?"
Phorcydes' words stopped her in her tracks. She stared ahead. Not a single waking moment passed without a vague awareness of what she truly wanted. She wanted to go back to Earth. Even above taking revenge on the filth who ruined her first life, she wished her final day on Earth didn't exist.
No. That wasn't it. I wish...
"I wish Perseus never existed."
Expression draining from her face, Medusa stood straighter.
This wasn't about Lachesis' urging to kill Perseus.
Medusa wanted him dead. And now was the moment.
Right now she could replace thoughts of slaying her father with the death of her tormentor.
This was a wish she could give herself. She didn't need to win some game or use the Monolith.
The decision brought peace, something that eluded her for months.
And the feeling remained, only to shatter when she stood before the room holding Perseus.
There was a strange shift in the air—something her soul recognised first before her body.
This wasn't aether or the Monolith's energy; it was more of a feeling of paralysing foreboding.
That night! The feeling was exactly like that horrible night.
Perseus was here. By some impossible twist in the universe, he was beyond the door, probably flashing that sardonic smile and wielding that accursed sword.
This time Medusa did not freeze. Her feet, propelled by raging vengeance and black rage, urged her forward. Her snakes reared up, hissing as she grabbed the door handle with enough force to dent it. She vaguely sensed that her essence had begun to go wild, but she scarcely cared.
She pushed the door open and found him waiting, not as an adult, but a boy. He was seated on the gurney and slumped forward as if asleep. What was more unexpected were the glowing translucent cords fused to his back. They stretched on and disappeared past the opposite wall.
It was clear this was no work of her aunt because Medusa had seen similar cords attached to her curse, and also because Perseus was muttering something even her sharp hearing couldn't catch.
"..."
There was the temptation to listen in, but Medusa crushed her curiosity and withdrew her dagger.
Since her aunt wasn't present, venom was needless; still, she coated her claws with enough snow chimera venom just in case.
As she drew closer, she enveloped them in her dimension not only to create an invisibility covering but to cut off the aether supply.
There would be nothing to shield him from her blade.
If he was pretending to be asleep, he was doing an excellent job at it. Even standing next to him with a dagger held ready caused no reaction. The glowing cords latched to his back were still in place, but now they didn't travel past the border of her dimension.
Without a pause or prick on her conscience, Medusa stabbed at his jugular—and met resistance.
He'd caught her wrist, stopping her blade a mere inch from his neck.
But more shocking still was the glimpse she got of his eyes.
Cold. Hateful. Mockingly knowing. Then it was gone, replaced by a dull emptiness reminiscent of death.
What? How? No—now wasn't the time to get distracted. Leaving her wrist in his grip, Medusa raked her venom-laced talons across his face. He took the strike and at the same time reached for his earring and ripped it off. A pulse washed over her.
Medusa realised belatedly that there was a familiarity in that move, but before she could make sense of it, Perseus and the room around her vanished.
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