Medusa: Fate's Game Ch. 14

And again the Fate reached out, and pulled across the nether to rip and tear, bend and manipulate more of the streams, until the colors combined and buried Darian's sight in a blur of brightness. He closed his eyes, covering them with his wrist, and winced as his pupils dilated fast enough to hurt.

Once the brightness settled, Darian lowered his arm. Tiryns. A stitched together tapestry of moments from his life danced before his eyes in slow motion. The day he met Proetus, and later proved he was a capable soldier. The day he beat every soldier in dueling practice. Meeting Stheneboea. Scouting the woods with Patrius, sitting around a fire, drinking wine.

"You made friends, a life, a path many Fate's Children stumble upon. But, your black hearts inevitably destroy that life, ruined for the illusion it was."

Black heart. Darian grimaced, and forced himself to watch as Moros painted a new picture. He showed him his battles, his fight against Chimera, the Amazons near Lycia, and Iobates's pleasure when Bellerophon defeated them. He showed him Philonoe, the wife he did not want, but accepted for the position it gave him. Beautiful, vile, Moros showed him the woman riding him, nude, in the bliss of orgasm, where even then a dark grin marked her lips. He showed him many of the other quests he'd set off to do in the name of Athena, Lycia, and whatever reason suited Bellerophon's fancy.

Darian fell to a knee when the scene put him high into the clouds, higher, and higher, until the ocean was a blur of navy below, and the clouds flowed around him. Vertigo tore through him, and he sucked in his breath to keep nausea at bay.

"Tell me Bellerophontes. Why did you challenge the gods so? I understand that, as your ego grew, so too did your desire to be free of gods and their rule."

Darian forced in each breath. So high, and he was standing on air. It was all an illusion, he told himself, but the details he'd long forgotten, the streams of color had not. Lukas's face, a dusty haze in his mind, had been crisp and clear in the painted scenes. So if they were illusions, they were not based on his memory. They were based on reality.

The realm of the Fates. Destiny.

Then he knew what scene Moros was reconstructing for him. The beat of Pegasus's wings came as no surprise, and as Darian forced himself to stand, he looked out to the sky around him.

Bellerophontes came from the clouds, dressed in beautiful armor gifted to him by the people of Lycia, by King Iobates. And Philonoe. Darian gulped down the wretched memory, and stared out at himself as Bellerophontes climbed higher, hands tight on Pegasus.

"I challenged them... because I thought... their power was a lie. That they are useless and meaningless without their worshipers."

"So you thought to help your fellow man, and free the sheep of their bonds?"

Even the ten-foot-tall mask-and-robes entity called them sheep. Medusa died for those sheep.

"... no. I wanted to free myself of their bonds, and if possible... obtain their power, their fame, for my own."

"Ah, and such is the mindless pursuit of many Fate's Children, of such damaged people."

"Damag—"

He stopped and looked to Pegasus, flying higher until a storm started to brew, until the clouds darkened and thunder could be heard in the distance. No warning was given, no argument, just a momentary glimmer of a man with a gold mask floating above him in the sky for a single moment. A flash of pure white blinded Darian, forced him to cover his eyes again, as lightning cracked the sky. Pegasus roared, the feathers of his wings scorched, and his fur singed from head to toe. And Bellerophontes fell.

Darian watched himself fall, and gulped. His own body had been burned, but the burn wasn't the scary part. The scary part was the fall. Down Bellerophontes and Pegasus went, but as they fell, the windstorm grew, and over the ocean an updraft caught them. Not enough to spare them the broken limbs that came with hitting the water, but enough to spare them death. Normal creatures would have died on impact, but not the magical horse, and not Bellerophontes.

"And as many before you, you are struck down for your arrogance. That you did not die here, at Zeus's hand, was a stroke of luck indeed. Perhaps my sisters were at work? I do not know." Moros reached out and dashed the sky away. The clouds and winds, the lightning and thunder went with him, and again they stood among the streams of color and endless stars.

"You said I was damaged."

"Quiet, human. Patience."

The following scenes were a sad, sad tale. Darian looked on, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrible scene of his fall. His body washing ashore, limbs mangled. People bringing him to a temple, where the priests learned of what he did — he didn't know how. Maybe Zeus had given them a vision? Spoken to them through one of his statues? They said he was to be punished. They pinned him down while he was weak, and burned a slave mark into his forehead. But they knew about him, his demigod body, and they burned it in deep, a dozen times, until it stuck.

The next was him, in a quarry, with chains so thick he could not break them. For a year, he worked, stayed quiet, biding his time. No friends, confiding in no one. Just scheming for the day he'd get revenge on the gods for his torment.

The next, the boat. Him in a cell, shaking the bars, right before the sea creature attacked. Darian raised his hands to block the oncoming waves, but the illusion did nothing to him as it rushed him with sea water. Instead, he got to watch, and he winced as the men in the cell were crushed. The old man begged for help, and Darian left him to drown.

Moros took a moment longer, lingering the painted memory upon the dying old man as rising water overtook him.

"Delectable," he said.

Darian scowled. "I had to. I would have drowned along with him."

"Yes, you'll get no argument from me." Again Moros laughed — really sickening sound at this point — and with a swipe of a few of his arms, the image of the ship and sea vanished. An island replaced it, with two giant statues at a dock, with snake bodies below the hip.

"... don't."

"But this is the focus of why you're here, is it not? The reason you and I are speaking." Moros pointed to the island, and as if they rode the wings of a bird, they flew in toward the temple, within its embrace, and into the room full of statues. Medusa was there, panicking, shaking, and a small, dirty warrior was dressing her wounds.

Darian looked away. Ache started to creep up his body, and the tears of before forced their way into his eyes.

"You're... you're real."

"Of course I'm real. We'll need to wash these later, but for now..."

"You can't be real. Your eyes... are you a ssspirit?"

"I am no spirit. Flesh and blood, same as you."

The other Darian tended to Medusa's wounds, touched her, calmed her, and the terrified gorgon at last started to accept him.

The first time he'd ever talked with a monster. The first time he'd ever suddenly found himself wanting to help someone in pain.

Why? What was it about her that struck him so? He didn't know her then, just recognized the sound of a woman in distress. He'd heard it a million times, in cities, in the hands of monsters, everywhere. But her voice caught him differently.

From the very moment he saw her, he wanted to be near her, talk to her, be with her. Such a beautiful woman, and her snake parts only made her more beautiful in a strange way he loved. And as the illusion carried on, his eyes fell back to it, no matter how hard he tried to look away. He wanted that back. Gods, he wanted that back.

"It is such a strange thing. The Fate's Children are chosen because they are damaged, Bellerophontes. Their minds are flawed. Empathy is something any human can feel, but a piece of it does not exist in you. Obsessive tenacity has replaced it; a valuable tool in creating tales for the telling." Moros drifted closer, and Darian took a step back. But moving away did nothing, and the huge entity grew closer until it reached out for him, and its shadowy fingers took his chin. "You do not feel, not to the extent a proper human does. You were born a broken thing. But..."

Darian tried to pull away, but Moros's grip was absolute, and when he tried to shove him, his hands fell away from the monolith of darkness and ice, powerless. Moros chuckled, and with more arms, drew another scene from the color rivers.

The simplest scene in the world. Medusa coiled up, staring up at the night sky, and Darian sitting in her coils, leaning back against her. So comfortable, so perfect.

Darian's tears tore at him, and he swung his arm again, this time with a scream. For a brief second, his eyes flashed, and Moros jumped away as a slash of white light cut through the space of Darian's hand. The entity snarled, but his blank mask only stared.

"Medusa said it herself, that she is your missing piece. Never in the history of the sisters has one of their chosen managed to discover that part of themselves. Most are like Perseus, and think they know empathy, think they know what it means to feel the language of the soul, even as they climb over the bodies of thousands to reach their goals. Fools, psychopaths. But you, you have finally managed to tap into that part of yourself." Moros chuckled, circled him, and with a swipe of his arms, destroyed the perfect image of Darian's lost happiness. "And it took the love of your life's death to awaken it."

Darian reached up to his face, and touched the tears there.

"Was this... all some sort of sick game to you?"

"... yes." Moros hovered away, exposing the obsidian fog that made up the underneath of his robe. "The Fate's game. A Fate's Child is the only one capable of hosting the power of a Moirai, after all. My sisters are content to play the game from their perches above, without touching the world of flesh. I prefer to get my hands dirty. It was such fun the last time."

Every time Moros chuckled, Darian grit his teeth until his jaw clicked. Sick, disgusting thing. Being near the Moirai was making Darian see white, and each word the abhorrent creature said sent searing fire into his skull.

"You said you'd show me Medusa, let me talk to her, let me be with her."

"You are here because we are making a deal. Made a deal. You wear the mask, and you are now mine. Your soul will go to where Medusa's is as promised, and you can be together."

Too easy, too perfect. Darian frowned and started circling the giant mass of onyx, just as Moros started to circle him.

"And where is that?"

More chuckles. "The underworld."

"You say that as if it's a single place. I want to know where Medusa's soul went in that realm."

"I supposed as much. To know where your soul goes, that is the ultimate question is it not? And the purview of the gods and Fates, I—"

"Where is she!?" Again Darian swept out one of his hands, and cut through the growing black that leaked from Moros. Obsidian mist and fog shattered like glass, and Moros stepped back as Darian stepped forward.

"... Athena has demanded her soul be dragged to Tartarus, to be tormented for a thousand years before it shall be released back into the aether for rebirth."

Darian stopped, and raised a hand to his lips. The sudden information about reincarnation registered for only a moment before his mind caught onto the scary part. A thousand years?

"What? She... she can't do that, she—"

"Your limited understanding of the gods, and what those creatures do, their motivations, is not my concern, Bellerophontes. We have a deal, and now that you understand the gravity of your actions, your body is mine."

"You expect me to let you have my body now?" He reached for his sword, and groaned. Realm of the Fates, whatever that was, wasn't solid like the real world. His armor was gone, he had no weapons, just a tunic and his hands.

Moros floated higher, and waved out several of his arms, heavy robes draping over foggy limbs. "You are just a human, Bellerophontes, but a Fate's Child as well. The only one of your kind who can feel the soul to its greatest depths; the Amazon could, perhaps, but fate has brought you and I together." He laughed with his joke. "My avatar would be useless to me if I could not appreciate, feel, taste the doom, the death and destruction I will spread."

So that was it then? Because Medusa's death was tearing him apart, he suddenly fit the criteria for this entity's avatar? Darian snarled and tightened his fists. His eyes started to glow, and he circled the hovering monstrosity once more.

And Medusa, she was being dragged to Tartarus by Athena. Tartarus, agony, pain and torment, burning flesh and misery. For a thousand years.

He shook his head, looked down, and squeezed his fists until his knuckles cracked. "... no."

"Excuse me, little human? Unless I am mistaken, you just... denied me? You already wear the mask, idiot child. The lessons I have taught you here and now were a part of the process, not my attempts to convince or corrupt you. Only with full understanding can I rip the soul from your vessel, I—"

"Then come, and take it." He spit on the oblivion beneath him, and breathed deep the nothingness of the new arena.

Medusa would not let him do this, not let him let this thing kill others because he was too weak to go on alone without her. And Athena, sending her to Tartarus? No, he would not allow this. Could not allow this. He growled as he stared up at Moros, as his eyes started to glow brighter, and the world of color rivers started to bend and quake around him.

The world responded to him. He noticed it earlier. And Moros noticed it too. Hard to read a mask, but as its mouth and eyes glowed with the same white as Darian's, the Fate's Child grinned and paced back and forth in front of the robed thing of mist and fog. Moros made a mistake, thinking his avatar was going to be Otrera, not him. And he'd made a mistake again, thinking Darian would just accept this absurdity.

Then again, he was a Moirai. What can you do against that, Darian?

Fucking plenty.

Moros raised his arms, and started to grow in size. The monolith of black mist and robes rose higher, and buried the world around Darian as its blackness crawled along the emptiness beneath his feet. Stars vanished from the void, one sparkle at a time. Devouring the world — or whatever it was — the black mist spread out, poured over the bottomless oblivion around them, and thickened until it was the creature's robes, not the black mist, that spread out as far as Darian could see. The mist rose along with Moros, until the rivers beyond them were hidden in the walls of onyx.

"... so be it."

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~~Otrera~~

"You don't think he'll... do something rash, do you?" Gallea said.

Otrera shrugged, and continued to stroke Chimera's hand. She'd never seen the big guy take so long to heal. A dozen men and her own strength were required to set his bones, get joints back into their sockets, and move him to the empty area they were in. People had insisted on bringing him to the temple, but she knew he'd want to be touching the earth as he slept.

So she sat by his arm, and stroked her fingers along his massive knuckles. Scars, so many scars. He made her scarred skin look smooth in comparison.

But he was alive. She'd seen him crushed, but the bridge had been crushed along with him when the creature's hand hit the wood too. The sea creature must have driven him into the water, instead of flattening him into paste against the bridge. So very lucky. So very gods damn lucky.

She sniffled a little, and looked up and down the beast's huge body. Lying on the earth in their cozy area near the city outskirts by the main road, it was quiet, and the group of them could talk as Chimera healed.

She did her best to not look at Medusa's corpse, not too far away. They'd thrown several blankets over her — it — to cover it up, and they would wait until Darian gave the word before they buried her, or burned her, or however the man felt best to deal with her body.

What would he do? Wasn't like he was going anywhere, stuck in Aethiopia until Gallea summoned Charon's ship, or until Pegasus healed; she couldn't see him leaving without Pegasus. And judging from how the horse was letting his wing hang, it'd be a while for the delicate limb to heal. Weeks maybe.

"I can't imagine what's going through his head," Pinna said. She and Gallea were both sitting near Otrera now, their little spat a memory gone. "If you died, I'd... I don't know. You're a pain in my ass, but I think I'd have trouble living without you."

Gallea chuckled, but the weight in his voice ruined it. He set his head down against his wife's shoulder, and the two of them looked at the sleeping Chimera.

"How much of it did you see?" Otrera said, and she glanced over her shoulder to Pinna before returning to Chimera.

"I... it was hard, not getting caught in the battle. But I saw everything. I saw what Patrius did."

"So... how's the story going to go then?"

"I don't know. Gallea and I have to talk with the Fates. We can't just say whatever we want. We write the story, they revise it, and we tell it. It... I'll try everything I can to make sure Medusa is treated with respect."

Otrera laughed and shook her head. "You know she's going to be recast as a manipulator, deceiver, or straight up villain."

Gallea and Pinna looked at each other, and Otrera could feel them sigh, even as they did it silently. She knew she was right, and she shrugged as she ran her hand up and down Chimera's arm.

Pegasus walked over to her, and leaned down to nudge against her head. It wasn't the first time, and each time, she found herself choking on more sobs. What was it about his eyes that cut through her so easily? She'd owned horses before, but Pegasus was no simple horse. His dark eyes penetrated her, and when she met them, tears welled up. Her fingers stroked his head, underneath his chin, and back against his neck. A huge horse, with more to pet than she could reach.

He nudged her again, and looked to the road.

"Oh, Darian. He... he's had it bad since you were split up, Pegasus." But she wasn't a good storyteller, and she cast a glance to Pinna and Gallea.

"Bellerophontes became Darian, Pegasus, after he escaped from a prison quarry. He wanted to start a new life." Pinna got up, hopped over to the horse, and started to comb his mane. "Didn't know what had happened to you or where you'd gone. But by chance, he landed on Medusa's island, and... the two fell in love. Really, really deep in love."

Pinna continued the story, and told the winged horse of all the things that had happened. Horses didn't have facial expressions, not the same humans did, but even Otrera could see the look of shock on Pegasus's face.

Otrera tuned it out after a while, her eyes stuck on Chimera and his rising, falling chest. Even when she'd stabbed the giant in the back a dozen times, he hadn't gone unconscious. Now the giant was so injured, he wasn't waking up at all. Gods, if he didn't ever wake up, she didn't know what she'd do.

You've known the beast for barely more than a month, Otrera. You sound like a little girl, swooning.

Yeah well, she wasn't a little girl. She was a full grown woman, starting to get on in her years. She knew what she wanted, and she wanted the big guy lying next to her. Someone with a brain, even if he did have a habit of thinking too much. Someone with—

A scream echoed through the air. Not human, but not the manticore or the undead either. A strange sound that boomed across the sky and shook the trees as it hit them, and all of them jumped up. Chimera remained unconscious, but the rest of them looked around in a panic.

Nothing came at them, nothing attacked, but the air came to a standstill. What sounds the nearby birds were making were gone, and the crowd in the city went silent. Otrera felt her body go cold, and her eyes dart around for her weaponry. She'd heard people die before, by the hundreds, and as the scream continued, all she could think of was the layered screams of many dying people, combined.