The temple shifted as they moved deeper, walls breathing like living stone. Carvings of a regal woman lined the corridors—Hera, queen of Olympus, goddess of marriage and vengeance. Her eyes followed them, cold and proud.Matt narrowed his eyes at a mosaic. "This is Hera's temple. That's… weird, right? You'd expect thunder and lightning. Zeus-style."
Elizabeth paused, tracing the mosaic's edge with her fingertips. "Not if it was built to honor the one left behind. The one who was always second to his storms."
As they crossed into the central chamber, the light dimmed, shadows crawling across the floor like oil. A low hiss curled through the silence. The torches flickered. And then—they saw her. She stood beneath a stone archway, surrounded by shattered statues and coiled serpents. Her eyes burned green, hair slithering with vipers that whispered like wind through leaves.
"Turn back," she growled. "You do not want what waits in this place." Matt raised a blade, but Elizabeth held up a hand, stepping forward slowly.
"Medusa," she said quietly.
The gorgon bared her fangs. "You speak my name like you know me."
"I know of you. Enough to know you weren't always like this."
"Spare me your pity," Medusa snarled, her voice layered in pain. "They built this prison with her name, but it was mine they cursed. I screamed in Hera's halls, but only stone answered."
Matt moved beside Elizabeth, cautious but silent. "You were wronged," Elizabeth said, her voice steady. "By Poseidon. By Athena. By gods who punished you for surviving what was done to you."
"Surviving?" Medusa's eyes shimmered. "I endure. Alone. Feared. Do you know what it's like to wake each day and pray no one looks at you? To know your face is a weapon you never asked for?" The weight of her sorrow filled the chamber like fog.
"I do," Elizabeth said. "Not in the same way. But I know what it's like to carry power that costs more than it gives. To be born with something people either worship or fear."
There was silence. Then—slowly—Medusa lowered her arms.
"No one's ever said that to me," she whispered. "They see the curse. They never see me."
Matt sheathed his weapons. "We do."
The snakes in her hair stilled. Her face, once twisted in rage, softened into something fragile. "I don't want to fight anymore," she said. "But I don't know how to not be a monster."
Elizabeth stepped forward and gently offered her hand. "Then let us teach you. You're not a monster, Medusa. You're someone who deserves a future." Medusa stared at her for a long time. And then, trembling, she took the hand.They talked long into the hours of that realm. About pain, about gods and injustice, about loneliness. When it was time to leave, Medusa touched the pendant at her throat—a snake coiled around a small obsidian gem—and removed it.
"This will call me," she said, pressing it into Elizabeth's palm. "Once. Only once. But I will come."
"Thank you," Elizabeth said softly.
Medusa offered the barest smile. "Thank you, daughter of transition. May your path never be carved in stone."
They left the temple not as conquerors, but with one more ally in their corner—and the knowledge that not all cursed beings needed to be slain.Some just needed to be seen.