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Medusa’s hands slipped across her forehead, sliding towards her hair with trembling fingers.
Athena looked to the owl and the serpent for wisdom. They acted upon instinct and thought, not emotion. And Athena found that virtuous.
Her hand touched a sleek coil of serpent. It moved, flicking its tongue against her fingers before shifting. There were more, varying in size and texture -- so many. Long and short, thick and thin, they acknowledged her touch and parted for her. Tongues and heads, necks and bodies…but no tails were found – because they had none.
Their bodies ended where hers began, joined as firmly to her head as her arm or leg was to her body. They moved with her because they were a part of her.
Panic receded, fear vanished. Only horror remained.
Her lungs constricted.
What had Athena done to her?
Her stomach roiled, forcing bile up. She swallowed, hoping to gain control, but fear and disgust won. She vomited, gasping for air as her stomach convulsed and twisted repeatedly.
Why?
A man shouted, too close to escape now… And then they were upon her.
There were eight men, armed heavily. She’d unknowingly alerted them with her scream.
Surely they would kill her and this nightmare would at last be over.
But the serpents quieted suddenly, becoming utterly still – forcing her to do the same.
Her vision blurred slowly. A haze clouded her sight, obscuring the details of life as the world around her turned an eerie shade of red. She blinked, but the redness remained.
As her eyes met the first man, obviously their leader, he froze. His eyes, deep brown and intelligent, widened. Whatever words he uttered ended sharply, choked with an unseen force from his chest.
It happened quickly.
The sun was behind them, making it impossible for her to focus against its blinding glare. But she could see that it was not just this man, but all of them, gasping for air.
She stood, wavering on unsteady legs, as the men grew rigid.
A sudden snapping filled the air, followed by cracking. The man’s eyes seemed to widen further, bulging as his neck convulsed and went rigid. The skin of his neck disc
olored, a sinister darkness creeping up his thick neck to his rigid jaw. The darkness, a strange coating like grey chalk, moved steadily, covering his cheeks and mouth. His nostrils seemed to pinch, as if he was gasping for breath, before the grey covered his nose. His eyes rolled, staring about him blindly until his eyes locked with hers.
He was in pain, horrible pain. His eyes clouded, blinking furiously until the ridge of grey overtook them. She watched, stunned, as all of him hardened, turning lifeless and brittle.
The man was stone.
She gasped and pressed her eyes closed, but it did not erase their suffering… Her chest was heavy with grief and her head felt heavy once again.
When she opened her eyes, more than two dozen ruby eyes waited for her.
###
It was not yet dawn. Ariston pulled his blanket up, rolling onto his side and squeezing his eyes shut. But she was gone, tearing his heart open as sleep left him.
It was cold.
The stars hadn’t yet faded, but a thin band of light laced the horizon.
He stretched, stifling a groan as his stitches pulled. He was lucky, doubly so, he knew. His wounds at Salamis were minor, mere scratches compared to those he’d suffered before. He could endure them knowing that today he would have his lady in his arms.
Today they would sail to Aegina and help those Athenians return home before winter set in.
