Medea
There was magic rolling off the gravestone, a magic that had lingered for years. It was a magic darker than any I’d come across before, even from Hecate herself.
There was magic rolling off the gravestone, a magic that had lingered for years. It was a magic darker than any I’d come across before, even from Hecate herself.
“Oh, honey, we’re the new and improved harpies. We’re faster, smarter, and stronger,” the second harpy hissed into my ear after we hit the ground.
Because I hadn’t learned to control my own powers back then, now I couldn’t control either of ours. I was still a failure. A disappointment. The wild child who played with tricksters and thieves instead of learning to lead.
“It was time. The Olympians have survived into the modern era, but in my opinion, it’s time for the younger generation to step up to the plate…”
I take in a deep breath, enjoying the intoxication of the moment. I stood in front of that huge crowd and loved every second of it. Who would have thought that the great trickster, the god so used to staying in the shadows, could have so much fun in the spotlight?
The harpy’s shrieks pierced our minds, and the echo bounced around in our heads. I hate fighting with anything that addles my senses, and I’d had enough of that recently. I shook my head and pushed on.
“Is this some new kinky game you’ve got going on? Man, you must be lonely. Where have you been? It’s been like… a year since Atë left. You just disappeared, no word, no note, nothing. Feeling guilty for running her off?”
I tried to rise but crumpled. The blisters burst where the flames had touched, the air stinging the open wounds. My charred, dry skin was taut, pulling against itself, flaking off. I pushed through the physical pain. It was something I had lived through for years, tormented by the monster I had been. I tried again. The tears were tiny ice pellets, cutting my skin as I rose.
She really is wonderful, and things have never been so good between us. It’s almost like the unpleasantness of being accused of killing someone dealt with that awkward moment between Kinnesberg and me a few weeks ago. We’re closer than I ever expected, and it feels good. Right. Like we were always destined to be like this.
I gave a wicked grin. “Bring it on, ladies. I shall not refuse your offering if you want to throw down against actual goddesses. Perhaps I’ll mount your heads on my mantel.”
“I cannot imagine your pain.” I can. He’s mourning for someone very special, and, in my own way, so have I been. “But what I can tell you is that I am not the person that caused that. I do not know who took your daughter away from you, but will you allow me to help you on that quest?” He says nothing.
After seeing those heroes I once knew die or become the villains, I moved on. I looked for new homes, new soldiers to start revolts, and new powers to dismantle. There were dictators to de-throne. I never thought I would return. At least not to the city where I had seen mortals do the impossible.
And yet, here I was.
“The bigger the herd, the bigger the man, I suppose.” I winked at Moxie as she laughed.
“No.” It’s the hardest lie I’ve ever uttered. I loved her, and yet I took her life. I was trying to change for the better, for her. Instead, I did the worst thing imaginable, and I still don’t know how I did it. Clearly, these thoughts, or some version of them, cross my face because Kinnesberg stands and pads across the carpet. She gets so close I can feel her breath on my face. It’s hot, heavy.
“Hey, I’m just being honest, Philotes. You, Nemesis, and even Thanatos, who’s out there somewhere collecting these poor fools, have tried to get me to see some good in this miserable species and look. This is what they are. Burning each other alive for no good reason, not even a sacrifice to one of us or their own god… they worship the same god.”