Chapter 13

The weight of Medusa’s words hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Even the ever-playful Reaga paused, his smirk faltering for just a moment. Ares, still seething from being made a mere spectator in his own domain, crossed his arms but said nothing.

King Eldors, on the other hand, looked like a man who had just realized he was standing on thin ice—with a gorgon, a god, and the literal personification of night staring at him.

He thought. He thought of every possible answer, every argument he could make to convince Medusa.

Velmor had endured wars—surely, that proved its strength?

But Medusa’s army had never known defeat. Compared to her, Velmor was nothing.

Velmor had survived under Ares' rule—surely, that proved its resilience?

But Medusa had suffered far worse than Ares and risen. Compared to her, Velmor was insignificant.

Velmor had never raised arms against her—surely, that proved its loyalty?

But loyalty born of fear was no loyalty at all.

And then, finally—

The realization settled like a stone sinking to the depths of the sea.

There was nothing he could say.

Nothing that could make Velmor worthy of The Seal of Medusa.

A soft chuckle broke the silence.

“Looks like the great King Eldors has no answer.”

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

Nyssa’s voice was light, almost amused—but her eyes gleamed like sharpened daggers.

Krios leaned back lazily against a column, arms crossed. "Should we give him more time? Maybe a century or two?"

Nihaga smirked. "It’s almost endearing, really. Look at him, searching for words like a drowning man reaching for a branch."

Reaga tilted his head, his dark gaze flickering with amusement. “If he takes any longer, I might start feeling bad for him.”

The king did not speak.

He could not.

Raezel inhaled deeply. Then, after a moment—

“Mother,” he said, voice steady. “You were once a victim of the gods’ cruelty. We should not let the same fate befall Velmor, a kingdom that does not deserve it.”

Medusa’s gaze was unreadable.

"They are afraid," Raezel continued. "Who wouldn’t be? The Queen of the Cursed, the Goddess of the Night, and the God of War stand before them, deciding their fate. But fear does not make them unworthy."

Reaga groaned. “Ugh, you’re making this sound all noble. I was just going to say we take the throne and call it a day.”

Medusa’s golden eyes gleamed. “You always were a fool for the weak.”

But her voice was not cruel.

There was something almost fond in it.

Raezel smiled. "A fool who learned from the strongest."

The room stilled.

Nyx tilted her head, watching Medusa carefully.

She knew Medusa well—Medusa-by-circumstance. A Medusa who did not grant favors freely. A Medusa who knew the weight of debt and the price of mercy.

And yet—

“Very well.”

The air shifted.

The very walls of the hall seemed to tremble. The torches flickered violently, and golden energy rippled outward from Medusa’s form. Her eyes glowed like molten fire, and the weight of her power sank into the bones of every living thing in the room.

The Blessing of Medusa had begun.

But something lingered in the air—an unspoken truth.

Was Medusa truly granting The Seal freely to velmor?

And if so…

Why?