“No!” Perseus shouted and immediately dropped his gaze. It was still hard to directly look at the goddess, so he focused on the thorny band around her exposed ankles. “I… I don’t want to die,” he whispered as he scowled at his reflection on the still water.

  That helpless feeling as life leaked out of him, the wild but useless panic as his breath and ability to speak was taken. Her cold eyes. Even in this alternate space, the phantom pain remained. It washed over him in hot pulses, especially his face. Raising a shaky hand, he gingerly touched his jaw. It felt numb. What he’d give to put that bitch in her place. His fist clenched on his thigh as visions of revenge burned his mind.

  You are angry and desperate. Good.

  Perseus hung his head and succumbed to humility. The goddess claimed he was going through the inferno, and the more he considered her words, the more it made sense, especially the mormo attack and how easily he had been kidnapped. There was also the odd way Antigoni acted before his killers made an appearance. Another awful possibility teased his mind, daring him to form a logical conclusion.

  What if Dictys… No. Perseus fiercely rejected the thought.

  Dictys would never. When their mother abandoned them and his father died, Dictys took them in without a complaint. He cared for them, especially Linos.

  “Please,” Perseus mumbled. “Please, make me strong.” Zeus’ power and this goddess before him, he'll grab them all. “I will do anything,” he added.

  There was a long pause and just like the first time he came to this space, a sharp pain spread from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck. Gritting his teeth, Perseus bore it down.

  First, I must show you, she finally said.

  When Perseus looked up, he gawked. The goddess, now thrice her height, loomed over him like a tower. Her curly damp hair escaped her hood as she bent and touched his forehead.

  A war between two unfamiliar forces unfolded before Perseus' eyes. They wielded spears and shields like Grecian soldiers but the quality of the winning army's weapons and armour was far superior to anything he had ever seen.

  Their helmets, possessing the appearance of white skulls, came with a brass mask that completely hid their faces, and their shields released occasional puffs of fog as they advanced.

  It was an obliteration.

  The snowy plane was stained with blood and vomit from soldiers in fur and leather armour, their faces, purple and twisted in agony as they were coldly speared by passing white-armoured soldiers. Even the horrors Perseus witnessed during his father’s death did not come close to this massacre.

  War is inevitable. Though the goddess’ words reverberated around Perseus, he couldn't see her.

  As soldiers died, white smoke curled off their bodies like snuffed candles before draining into the earth. Perseus frowned. Why did he suddenly remember Drain?

  Before he could pursue the thought, the scene changed to another of equal decimation. A city square with thousands of dead people in tall heaps. A woman wearing a pristine robe walked amidst it all. In her grip was a chain holding a smoking brazier, and she mumbled words as if in supplication for the dead.

  Disease is inevitable, the goddess said.

  The woman stopped before one of the hills of death, raised a slim tattooed arm and shouted a word Perseus could not understand. The same thing happened, only this time the curling smoke gathered and formed a dark orb before sinking into the woman’s open palm. She walked to the next heap of bodies and repeated the strange ritual.

  Again the scene changed and this time it was to the most opulent palace Perseus had ever seen. Tall white walls, sparkling stained glass windows, shiny marble floors, bubbling springs and vibrant gardens. But like a stain in the air, death was present.

  Low voices. A man wearing ornate white robes took measured steps down the corridor leading to a small garden. Behind him was a glum entourage of equally white-clad people. The men kept their hair long like women and they had no weapon on them. Trailing the entourage were four sturdy men carrying a glass case that held the remains of an aged woman.

  Death is the reward of a long life. Black rage was back in the goddess’ voice. Nothing should ever change that.

  Perseus observed the procession, watching as the case was placed on an altar at the centre of the garden. The man leading the entourage stepped forward, placed a hand on the glass and stared at the face of the old woman. There appeared to be tears in his eyes. After a stretch of solemn silence, he placed a red stone on the case. Dark smoke rose from the body and vanished into the gem.

  Perseus wondered what the goddess intended to show him. Perhaps the smoke was—

  Hands suddenly grabbed his head from behind, forcing him to look at the long-haired man as he retrieved the gem.

  Look at him. The goddess’ voice was a blast next to Perseus’ ear. That thieving cheat. Commit his face to memory! Her enraged voice grew louder. They broke the foundation, warped the laws of nature and polluted what should be sacred.

  Though not understanding why, Perseus found himself feeling equally enraged at this stranger. He seemed like a royal, maybe a king, but he possessed a refined scholarly air about him.

  You will start with him, Perseus. She reduced her voice to a sinister whisper. You will find him and I will kill him with your hands.

  Although the goddess did not say it, Perseus suspected that if this person were still alive, they would already be a deity. “But it’s impossible to kill a deity?”

  The goddess released a dark bark of laughter as she withdrew her hands. A search dog shouldn't worry about such things. Those so-called deities are nothing but thieves, and they can be killed.

  It was the wildest most ridiculous thought Perseus had ever heard. High gods existed since the beginning of time. They could not be killed. Perhaps the case was different for low deities since most of them started as mortal blood carriers. “How?”

  I will give you the power you seek in doses, the goddess said, ignoring Perseus’ question, but you must not interfere with the inferno. Allow them to play god… for now.

  “But—”

  SHUT UP. Her voice was a blast of thunder in his head.

  Groaning and falling to his knees, Perseus saw he was back at her domain and bleeding from his nostrils. She was seated at the top of the heap of black bones from where she glared at him with glowing angry eyes.

  If that one wasn’t already corrupted by the thief and snatched by my sister, I would have used her instead of you. Do not make light of my patience. You have the choice to return to your beloved Athena but see this first. She snapped her fingers and Perseus was plunged into a horrifying vivid vision.

  He was in what resembled a temple, bound by chains and pulled along by veiled women. With impossible strength, they dragged an older version of himself to a large basin of blue fire. Another blink and he was tossed in. Burning but not dying. Endless agony. It felt too real. Even the smell of burnt flesh stuffed up his nose as his eyes watered.

  “What is this?” And why did it feel like he had lived through it before? The terror and pain were too familiar.

  That is the punishment for anyone who dares to surpass the ceiling Athena has set for them. She rested her temple on her fist and peered at him. You are too ambitious, and that ambition will earn you more than a handful of visits to the basin. There is no one she can’t break. There was a smirk in her voice.

  “Athena wouldn’t…” Even as Perseus spoke the words, he found himself wavering. All that supported his faith were the teachings he received since childhood, a relentless grilling that continued even after Dictys took them in.

  Athena the wise. Benevolent high goddess of Olympus. Daughter of Zeus. Queen of war.

  Every city, town, or village that held her temple prospered. Merchants connected to her bank never met misfortune; every kingdom in Cosmolith revered the goddess. Her wisdom and power ensured that no war touched the Grecian continent for the past two hundred years. It was only natural to worship her and to think otherwise was sacrilegious. Even so... The seed of doubt the dark goddess planted in his heart was already taking root.

  Believe whatever you wish. I have no regard for your opinion to lie to you. The goddess stood and the sound of clattering bones followed her movement. I will give you my power in doses, but first, receive the gift of my link.

  She stopped before him and touched his forehead.

  Perseus opened his eyes to the crying sky above the arena. He could recall nothing after the goddess touched his forehead, but, his pain was gone as far as he could tell. And though he was still lying on his back, the girl who nearly killed him was nowhere in sight. As he sat up, he looked in the direction of the dryad. Heracles was where he left him with his grip tight around his sword.

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  There was a strange feeling in Perseus' gut, a warmth that swirled and felt like something he could draw from, a power separate from aether. A small smile lifted the corners of his lips. The dark goddess had kept her word. Raising his hand to his face, he frowned at the marking on his palm—a small circle with a dot in the middle.

  That will make things easier for me.

  Perseus flinched at the sudden sound of her voice in his head. This wasn't the first time the goddess had spoken to him outside her domain, but it felt different. “I can feel your presence.”

  Speak in your mind. Impatience laced her voice.

  Like this?

  Yes, the goddess answered in an irritated tone. The hunched girl, the low deity who instructed you during your induction, a boy named Notos who is your senior, and an owl almost always perched on the tree branch closest to your dorm window.

  Frowning in confusion, Perseus pushed to his feet and sought out his sword. I do not understand.

  They're Athena’s eyes, and you are one of the privileged few the goddess has an eye on.

  The almighty Athena was watching him. If this news had come when he was still toiling for Dictys, he would have been ecstatic, but now something else was on his mind.

  Are they watching me now? Tightening his grip around the hilt of his sword, he glanced around as he approached Heracles.

  The goddess paused. …Yes.

  Sighing in disappointment, he put his sword away. The idea was not to act in a way that would raise suspicion. But he would find a way to kill the boy no matter what. Initially, he wished to kill him out of mercy but not anymore. This time he planned to kill him for a selfish reason. That bitch had called Heracles ‘young lord’ which meant the weakling was either royalty or from a powerful house.

  Perseus scowled as he recalled how relentlessly she had swung at him; her killing intent had been sharper and more brutal than anything he had ever felt. I will kill your master before your eyes, and when I'm done, I will—

  Remember not to attract the wrong attention. I’ll deal with shutting Athena’s eyes as we begin our search.

  When the goddess’ link vanished, Perseus relaxed. Her presence felt like a hovering blade at the back of his neck—a constant reminder of his weak position. It only made sense that the weak bow to the overwhelmingly strong, yet rebellion cooked in the shadows of his mind, urging him to never fully submit.

  Stopping before the boy, Perseus beamed. It was quite enjoyable watching horror eclipse his face sallow face. He had never seen someone look so drained.

  “You have a fierce bodyguard, Heracles. Did you enjoy watching her defend you?” As Perseus spoke, he massaged his jaw. It was becoming a habit. “She... she nearly killed me.”

  Perseus watched with no small amusement as rage battled fear in Heracles’ eyes. A chuckle escaped before he could stop it. He was enjoying this way too much.

  “Live today and struggle well.” He pumped a fist in encouragement and grinned, showing all his teeth. “I shall visit tomorrow.”

  Offering a careless wave, Perseus whistled a tune as he headed for the dining hall, all the while coldly repeating a list in his head.

  The hunched girl.

  The first instructor.

  A boy named Notos.

  An owl at my window.

  ***

  Medusa struggled to focus on the open scroll. The assessment test lasted about an hour, and her score would determine if she was assigned to the Special, Standard, or Advanced Theory class. But after half an hour, she had barely gotten past the midway point. Sitting in a spacious white room with a single instructor and deafening silence made her mind race with ugly possibilities. What Clotho shared had ruined her earlier sense of victory. Thoughts of the bear and the bees shifted to strategising and questioning her sense of direction.

  Perseus was probably taking ten steps with every half step she took. According to Clotho, her return to her first life had triggered a rift that partially freed the deadliest of her two sisters. When Medusa asked how bad it was, Clotho sounded weary, something that was rare for the Moirai.

  A vast amount of Atropos’ power is still sealed but the power of her rage alone is enough to cause significant damage. And for reasons I cannot understand, she has chosen Perseus as her hand of justice.

  Hand of justice. Medusa released a dry laugh. What a hoot.

  “Is something funny?” the instructor asked.

  Yes. I heard the most hilarious joke in all of Cosmolith.

  “I apologise.” Medusa offered a bow. The instructor was the plump deity that spotted two ridiculously long braids. She recalled her name was Atalanta.

  Instead of responding, Atalanta walked over and began reading Medusa’s answers. Eyes widening, she grabbed the scroll.

  “You say you’re the daughter of a merchant?” She asked with a puzzled frown.

  Medusa nodded. What now? One could never tell with deities.

  “All your answers so far are... too correct.”

  That’s because my parents were obsessed with my education for some reason. The questions were based on basic education about lore, towns, cities, modes of government and financing. The other parts about beasts were the easiest.

  “They are?” Medusa asked instead, hoping she did a decent job at showing surprise.

  “Yes.” There was a pleased ring in Atalanta’s voice. “Your answers show a deep understanding of basic theories. How is it that you accurately labelled these beasts? You even spelled their names correctly.”

  “My father is… passionate about my education,” Medusa said, going with the simple truth. The first thirteen years of her first life were filled with learning. At one point, she even learned two lost languages. Not that she had minded; learning had always been easy for her.

  “Is that so?” Atalanta’s face brightened like she had come upon a sudden treasure. “Give me a moment.” Humming, she went about fishing for a scroll on the shelf to their right. Finding what she was looking for, she unrolled it before Medusa. “How about attempting the advanced test?”

  From what Medusa learned after reading one of the two scrolls Nestor gave her, there were three branches of learning in Drys Valon. Practical, Theory and Physical. Within those branches were classes; special for the slow learners or generally lazy, standard for the average and advanced for the best. Because of her ‘practical’ performance during her trial, she had been given an assessment test for the Standard Theory class.

  "Alright," Medusa warily answered and retrieved her quill. Now that the instructor had distracted her from her turbulent thoughts, her mind felt clearer and the questions seemed easy. In the parts about aether, she included her base understanding of how she manipulated it.

  Her factual answers seemed to excite Atalanta. “This is brilliant, May.”

  Brilliant? That felt like an exaggeration but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  “Straight to the point and easy to understand.”

  Now Medusa understood why the deity was happy with her answers. The expected methods of answering questions in the Grecian education system usually entailed padding words. Like using a thousand sentences to explain a simple concept. Going through the modern education system in a fifth life had killed that off.

  “Such masterful use of language.” Atalanta's eyes eagerly roved over Medusa’s answers. “How perfect it would be if you were also awakened,” she added sadly.

  “But I'm already awakened” There was no need for pretence. She was prepared to use every card to advance as fast as possible.

  “Child, speak the truth.” Atalanta’s voice turned serious as a small frown squeezed her brow. “Even now, I can barely sense your presence. You hardly possess enough aether for a blood carrier.”

  "I can show you." Medusa extended an arm and retrieved a scroll from her dimension.

  Atalanta first blinked in surprise, then she rushed forward, almost lifting Medusa off her seat as she grabbed her shoulders. “When did you awaken?” She asked eagerly. “How large is your pocket?”

  Looking around, Medusa wondered what would appear normal to hold in her dimension. Going for something enormous seemed like an overkill so she went for the large decorative vase in the corner. Walking over, she made it disappear and appear.

  “Marvellous!” Atalanta cried in a sing-song voice as she clapped. “But how are you doing that?” She appeared genuinely perplexed as she observed Medusa.

  “Doing what?”

  “Your presence is faint enough not to draw attention.”

  Medusa shrugged. “I don’t know.” A truth that would seem like a lie, but she hardly cared.

  “A family secret, eh?”

  When she said nothing, Atalanta chuckled. “Very well.”

  Rolling up Medusa’s test sheets, she nodded resolutely. “You will be joining the Standard Practical class. I’d advise that you try for the advanced practical in their next assessment trial.”

  Medusa gulped. If she recalled correctly, those who had been leaping and crawling across the pillar on her first day were all from the Advanced Practical class. But they had been competing for Vaso's special class. Maybe the trial for the Advanced Practical class wouldn’t be that tough.

  “I don’t know if I’m ready,” Medusa said.

  “Nonsense!” Atalanta waved her words away. “Why do we have excellent instructors in Drys Valon if we cannot teach you what you need to advance?”

  Medusa didn't have a reply so she remained mute.

  “Come with me. You'll be joining the Advanced Theory class.” Atalanta hummed as she led Medusa down the corridor. She had a fruity scent similar to strawberry along with a bubbly personality that made it impossible to pass a person—student or instructor—without sharing one or more words in greeting.

  Aiming to join the Advanced Practical class was a wise decision. Observing skilled students as they manipulate aether should yield good results. Coupled with Clotho's lessons, she may be able to achieve rapid progress.

  What was this nervousness feeling and why did it remind her of the first time she joined the priestesses at the temple’s lyceum? Their stares had been direct and judgemental. It was hate at first sight from some, and her attractive appearance seemed to have worsened matters for her. Oh, and there was the open secret that both her parents were deities.

  But nobody knew her here, though. So why was she still nervous? Ah, just accept it. Even after six lives, meeting new people still unnerved her.

  Soon they entered the wide classroom in the style of an odium and the first person she recognised was Vaso the bejewelled.

  He scowled at Atalanta, barely acknowledging Medusa’s presence. “What do you want?” He spat.

  “It shouldn’t always be a fight between us, Vaso.” She clicked her tongue and smiled at him. “You have a new student. May solved all the advanced test questions in record time.”

  A murmur rose among the students, but Medusa didn't spare them a glance despite their stares drilling into the side of her face.

  Vaso scowled. “Proof?”

  “Here.” Atalanta produced the test scroll and tossed it at Vaso.

  After reading its content for a terse moment, Vaso returned it to Atalanta with an impatient hand. “Fine.” He nodded at an empty spot on the fifth row to Medusa's left. “Sit over there.”

  As Medusa approached the spot, she sighed on the inside when she recognised one of the students. It was Eristes, the bull terrier. What was worse was the fact that she'd be sitting next to him. And he wasn't the only face she recognised. There was also the boy and girl who came first and second in the pillar race.

  Maintaining a bland expression, she settled next to Eristes. And as expected, he barely sat still for a full minute before leaning over

  "It seems you had a good education."

  "So it seems," Medusa replied as she eyed the stone slab in front of her. There was a silver needle next to it. Was it for writing?

  “Take a long look around, May,” Eristes said in a low, mean voice. “No Akrivi to protect you. You’re in my kingdom now.”

  "What a bloody waste of time."

  "Why are you even doing this?"

  "If you pour this effort into something SERIOUS, I swear you'd rule the world."

  Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh.

  Bruh... let me breathe, please. It's not that deep.

  I just want to entertain myself. Chill.

  I hope this story is entertaining, though. When you've read through a chapter over and over as you edit... this is me.

  Anyway, until next Saturday.