I stood in a field- no. It wasn't a field. The ground held mourning flowers, the rocks littering the field had names and dates carved into them, a hole was dug into the ground before me. I stood in a graveyard.
In front of me, on the other side of the hole and facing me, was a man. He was pale, with wavy black hair, and sharp golden eyes. They were blazing right then, glowing even as he spoke, chanted, in a language that twisted and wound around me, through the air, mist on my skin as the whispers coiled and twined.
The air tasted of fire and ashes, my skin cooled with burning shadows, rocks rumbled over the ground, under my feet.
A hazy blur distorted his form, I blinked, trying to see him again, only for the space to be overtaken with human-esque shapes. Faded figures blurring into existence, not quite solid, indistinct enough for me to see, beyond them, the gold-eyed man lowering his hands.
Those strange twisted whispers filled the air once more, the gold-eyed man speaking to what had to be spirits. They spoke back, in matching twining twisting words that tumbled through my ears in a manner I struggled to understand, struggled to register as words spoken or whispered or implied twined and coiled or threaded around me.
His hands spread once more, gaze tilting downwards, to the hole, or perhaps pit was more fitting, before him. I noticed the ghostly forms seemed to crouch, hands cupping a liquid I had not noticed in the darkness.
"Abel!" cried a voice.
I whipped around, gaze landing on two figures striding forward. A man and a woman, though the man was the one to speak. Both held black hair, but the man's eyes were stormy blue and his skin was darker than mine. The woman was tan, with green eyes (green like mine ).
Their eyes should not have stood out so much, not in this darkness, and yet they blazed akin to the golden-eyed man behind me.
The only response the golden-eyed man gave was to speak faster, the whispers running together, buzzing in my ears and skittering through the air.
One of the ghosts stepped forward, red spilling from its form as it solidified, mist hardening into a thick fog that took the shape of a man in a uniform.
"Abel, please!" cried the woman.
The golden-eyed man spoke once more, no longer in a language of whispers that twisted and crawled, but instead in a language far more human. It held many rolling r's, and soft vowels that matched with hard consonants. He spoke slowly now, seemingly uncaring of the two headed his way.
Abel, as I assumed the golden-eyed man's name was, ignored both figures even as they grew near. His words switched once more, from the rolling language to whispering coils that twined over my arms and through my ears.
My head hurt, or maybe my chest. The language was soft, twining and twisting, elegant yet inaudible. And simultaneously it thrummed and roared and sang in my ears in a manner that reminded me achingly of half-remembered dreams.
The scent of salt filled my nose and Abel snapped a word I did not know, a swear I assumed, as he leapt away from the pit. The liquid within surged up, reaching for him.
I turned back, my eyes landing again on the two figures drawing near. The woman had her arms raised, green eyes blazing even in the narrowed slits they were in. She swept her arm out and the liquid of the pit scattered, misting in a blur that dispersed the spirits and emptied the pit.
Abel spun to face them, finally acknowledging their presence with a snarl that twisted his face into something dangerous .
"What do you zink you're doing!?" Abel snapped. His accent reminded me of the human language he'd spoken just a moment ago, to the spirit.
"Able, you know we cannot do this," the woman implored. "I know that you wish to find them-"
"You know nothing!" he snapped. "You cannot-"
"We do ," the man entreated. "Abel, we want to find dem too. We want dem safe, we want to know what happen't to dem just as you do. But you are endangering o'ders! People are dying ."
"I vill find zem," Abel snapped. "I must, zey are children. You cannot stop me."
"We will not let you keep hurting people," the man said, stormy eyes hardening in a swirl of crackling lightning. "We will stop you if we must."
Abel scoffed, gold eyes flashing. "You would pick stopping me over rescuing the children zat were taken? Zey are not dead! I vould know if zey vere."
"Of course we want to find them!" the woman cried. "But you've been hurting people, you've been killing people. Innocent people are dying -"
"And I mourn zeir dea'z," Abel said, his gaze softening as they landed on her. "But I have also targeted not innocent, ones who have done great harm. I vill find stolen children."
"We will find them," she pleaded. "Together. You do not have to do this."
"You care so much, and yet zey do not care same as you." Abel glanced at the man as well, gaze soft and yet eyes hard. "I hold no hate for you, cousins, but I vill not stop my quest."
"Do not make us fight you," the man pleaded, expression crumpling. "Please, we do not want it to come to dat."
Abel shook his head, a small frown on his face. "Calisto, Esme, I do not vish it to be so either. But if I must, I vill live to regret what you cannot."
"Abel," the woman (Esme?) whispered, her stance shifting to a ready stance, her hands raising. " Please ."
Abel simply raised an eyebrow, his lips tight. "Leave, before you make me regret."
The man (Callisto?) stepped forward with a knife drawn. "We will not, we cannot . Please, come with us peacefully an't allow de camp to puniss you."
Abel laughed, something aching, something painful, something regretful, "No."
The air crackled, my skin sparking and burning and blazing anew, but Abel simply shook his head.
"Know that I regret v'at I must do. But I vill save zem."
And hands pushed through the ground.
I fell through darkness.
Understand what they will allow.
I stumbled onto what looked like a battlefield- no, not onto. I stumbled into the air above the battlefield.
Figures stood around me, drifted, formed, shifted. They were standing tall as clouds, as trees, as waves could crash. They seemed to be… debating? Betting? I wasn't sure, I couldn't be certain.
A woman with brown hair, sheathed in woven cloths and battle armor, was speaking with what appeared to be Ares. Blood and olive oil intertwined in my mouth, their hands gleamed with metal that could be blades or armor or coins or simply power .
"Please," Ares snipped, his voice rumbling with crashing blades and sobbing children. "My kids will handle Abel. He might have won the battles so far, but that's because he sticks to graveyards. They'll get him away from his minions soon enough."
"The strategy is the important things here," countered Athena, voice like woven silk on my skin. "And one of my children aid's Abel. Their strategy is foolproof, and we know that he has followed the clues to the missing children."
"The missing children can be found by my kids too," Ares snapped. "My son- he will be found. Their strategy works, I've been giving them guidance."
A tall figure, with a beard of storm clouds and hair crackling with sparks, a pinstripe suit whose lines flickered and twisted akin to lightning adorned his body. His stormy blue eyes, like a clear sky that had a blanket of storm clouds hiding the sun, were locked on the children below.
"Abel will not escape his punishment for his crimes, for killing my son ."
"Or my daughter," snapped another figure. For a moment, when my eyes landed on Him, I thought He to be the gold-eyed Titan. Their faces were identical, and Their hair both curled and wildness tamed. But the eyes were different, unlike the golden-eyed Titan this God held eyes of sharp sea-green (like mine , like Lara's , like Esme's ).
Was that- was that Poseidon ?
"Both of you have children siding with him," murmured a woman in soft green leaves and sheafs of golden grain. A matching veil, of dripping flowers, covered her hair. Her dark skin matched her dark eyes, which reflected a soft ache.
Poseidon shrugged, gaze on the field below, "I care not for the side they've chosen, tis their choice. But Abel killed my daughter . I will not stand for that."
"People are dying," A figure with eyes like a sunny sky said, His tanned skin warm and bright. His hair shone gold, with a matching bright veil of sunlight on His head.
Zeus waved His hand, a storm in His voice. "Their deaths are a tragedy, and yet Justice must stand."
"This battle will not end gently," said Ares, blades clashing in His voice and below our feet. "There is little we can do but watch."
"Their Fates have been determined," Zeus confirmed, rain falling from His mouth, the sky grieving what was lost yet unwavering in its conviction.
I turned below, tuning out Their words as They debated the Fates of those below, debated the tragedy clashing, debated the war that waged. A dismissal of the deaths ached in my chest as my eyes took in the blood that stained the ground so far below.
It was a massacre.
One side held the strength in numbers, though few of those numbers were living . Skeletons and freshly dead bodies alike shuffled forward, blades in hands and hands empty of weapons alike raised to fight.
On the opposing side the living battled, small in number, a hundred, perhaps two hundred, but little more facing a hoard. The ground rose beneath them as hands burst out and I wondered at what graveyard they stood in that held such forces.
Lightning flashed, thunder crashing down with a boom as a dozen undead flashed into smoking heaps. Two dozen more took their places, stepping forward with blood and wrath in their forms.
The living fought, drowning in the dead. Children and adults alike, the adults in the front and taking the hoard on their own, even as the children pushed forward to aid them. A child stumbled and another grabbed their arm, one of the adults leaping between them and the undead with golden hair stained with blood streaking behind them.
A blade slid through their arm and yet they struck out once more, striking down one, two, three undead.
Vines wove around the field, streaming from a woman standing firm. The field immediately around them could not be said to be empty, for all no dead or living stood within it. No, instead it withered with vines and snapping plants, devouring any undead that stepped within their zone and tearing them apart.
A child lost their footing and a skeleton drove their bones through their neck. I flinched back as blood stained the yellowed figure.
The man from before, from the graveyard with Esme and Callisto, stood with his arms out. I could not hear him, though I could see his lips moving, but I imagined whispers filled the air once more. The glow of his golden-eyes was bright enough to see from where I stood.
Beside him was a blonde-haired girl, one that reminded me strikingly of Annabeth. She couldn't be much older than Annabeth either, perhaps a year or two. Her form seemed achingly small compared to Abel, who stood tall and broad. Her eyes were locked onto the battlefield, her lips moving as she motioned with quick hands.
It was a war.
It was a war of children, yes with some adults, quite a few stepping in and battling fiercely. The adults held the greatest skill, the greatest power, perhaps the greatest experience. And yet- and yet children battled all the same.
"There's only Abel ," snapped a voice behind me, dripping with anger and pain and clashing storms. "Surely one man cannot be impossible to defeat?"
I watched though, feeling the burning shadows from where I stood. He was powerful, he was hurting , and he was not alone. His power was more than a mortal, there was another offering him support in this war. I didn't know who, but I imagined if even some of the Gods behind me thought he had a point in his acts that perhaps even Hades agreed.
The Gods spoke more, debated more, eyes turned from the field as bodies tumbled to the ground. Living and dead tumbled down, blood stained, glassy eyed, aching with desperation.
My feet slipped in the air and I tumbled down down down, to the blood stained battle ground, to the desperately fighting children and adults, and into darkness.
See who had to be saved by others, by mortals, when the Gods left them to suffer.
I tumbled from a ceiling, stumbling to my feet on linoleum flooring. Fluorescent lights lit up the room. An infirmary.
There were children there, perhaps twenty. Several were tucked together, whispering in soft tones in languages I did not know. Others sat stiffly, watching everyone around them with wary eyes. A handful were curled up in corners, and one under the bed, flinching at every movement near them.
Most had scars.
There were several doctors, and more nurses, moving around the room. They were soft, kind, even soothing. They gently checked the children's injuries, they took temperatures, they bandaged arms, they rubbed creams on scars. They spoke in low gentle voices, to the children and each other.
A group near me were bent over papers, discussing what they said.
"Something about light? Is this saying they create light?"
"This one is discussing eidetic memory, that's a normal phenomena why is it-"
"I can't make sense of the science within all these rambles on mythology. Did they just try to claim powers for children? To excuse these- these crimes ?"
"What horrible men, doing this to children ," one murmured, fingers shaking as they turned a page. "What delusions they had-"
"Their crimes against the Jews, and other nations, and anyone not right already showcased it, but this as well-"
"I'm glad we found the children, but by God-"
I took a step away, my stomach tight and my hands shaking. I was closer to a child now, a small child with blonde hair and gray eyes who was curled up on the bed as far from a bright children's book as possible. Her eyes were locked on it, something dark and fearful twisting them.
A doctor removed the book and went to the group bent over the papers. Despite my distance, I still caught snippets.
"-traumatized-"
"-the slightest thing-"
"-afraid of themselves-"
"-is afraid of the books-"
"-the bed should be moved-"
"-darker room?"
"-when light hits-"
"-specialists-"
"-are we going to find someone-"
The doctors were worried, afraid even. They were horrified certainly, their fingers tight, faces masks. They cared, but there was horror and disbelief and confusion, a want to help but no knowledge of how .
One stepped forward though, from the side of the room. A man with a bright smile and gold spun hair whose blue eyes seemed too bright, too striking. He crouched in front of one child, smile bright and warm and soothing my fear. My body slowly relaxed, eyes on the doctor.
"Hey kiddo, how are you feeling?"
The child held dark red eyes, pools of blood and rubies. They stared at the doctor, wary and tense, unwilling to uncurl.
"I'm Doctor Fred," the child flinched, recoiling and tightening their curl. "But you can just call me Fred."
The child blinked, staring at him with a small frown, and loosened their stance ever so slightly.
"We're going to help you," the doctor murmured, hands tucked close but gaze locked on the child. "You're safe now, they can't hurt you anymore."
The floor slipped from me and I tumbled through with a cry.
They allowed the pain of their children. They allowed the deaths.
The child of Hades, Abel, stood tall once more. His gaze was firm, gold-eyes hard. His back was straight and hands raised and ready.
I looked at him and remembered what Annabeth had told me, of the Godly war that had happened alongside the mortal World War Two, how the Demigods no longer knew exactly what had led to it.
"We've saved the children," said a man I did not know, a plea in his tone. "We need not fight any longer."
Bodies covered the ground, the living no longer such, the dead returned to their graves. Blood stained grass swayed as a breeze ruffled the field.
"Children are found, but z'ose who harmed zem are still free. Zey vill not escape, I vill place zem in my Otyets hands."
Abel's gaze was fervent, for as firm as it remained there was a… grief tinging his eyes. A need that echoed in his words, a decree that he would kill those responsible, no matter who stood between him and them.
The man before him, or perhaps teen was more accurate as he looked younger than even Luke, grimaced. He closed his green eyes for a moment, expression tight. I wondered what he felt, seeing someone he must've known once facing him as an enemy.
"The Gods will ensure they suffer," the teen pleaded. "All go to Hades in time, you must know your Father will ensure they pay for it. And the mortals aren't standing for it either! They're sending their forces to fight even now, the Nazi's will pay. Please, end this war between us now. Let us go home ."
"I vill not stop," Abel said, shaking his head. "I cannot stop, not until spirits zat linger have zeir vengeance. Not all children v'ere saved, some v'ere lost… I must aid zem."
"They are dead ," the teen pleaded. Desperation tinged his tone and his eyes were bright, pleading alongside his voice. "They are dead and their spirits may hurt but they have died, you need to remember the living! You're living for the dead instead of the living here now , we need you , Abel. Please come home, it's not too late. You're not lost like they were-"
"I vas lost vith children."
And that was the end of the conversation. Whether the unknown teen wished to continue speaking, whether he wished to plea once more, it mattered not to Abel. Abel's hands rose and his madness with it, and he attacked.
A skeleton rose before me, lunging through my form and darkness consumed my view.
He was lost, and he was abandoned by those he once stood by. Know that he was not remembered for his goals, but for the death he brought.
The skeleton was gone, and the blood soaked field as well. I stood in a small graveyard, in the familiar woods of Camp Half-Blood.
There was a funeral pyre set up, a shroud set within it. The barest light of dawn was creeping through the woods and illuminating the shroud with Hades' helm painstakingly embroidered on it. The deep black with blood red staining the shadows of children pressed in charcoal gray caught the light with an odd shimmer of gold.
A man stood before the pyre, stormy blue eyes staring out at the crowd. His gaze was solemn, intense, his lips pursed and his face firm.
"Abel was family," the man declared.
He went to continue, yet his breath stuttered and he faltered. He glanced back at the shroud for just a moment, eyes on the lock of black hair placed before the shroud. He turned back to the crowd.
"He was a friend to many, though many of you are too young, too new to have known him as such."
He took a deep breath, letting his body slowly relax as he swept his gaze across the collection of campers.
"Abel cared deeply for those harmed- for those dead. He reached too far in an effort to save the children stolen from us. It is a stark reminder that for all we are divine in heritage, we are still mortal. Our powers have a limit, and Abel went beyond his. He- he lost himself to the spirits of those lost, lived for the dead instead of the living."
He pressed a hand to his chest, staring at the silent crowd with fervent eyes. "We can mourn what could've been, we should mourn the man he was before he was lost. He was once a good man, a man to emulate. Abel- he did so much good in his life. And despite what he became, his efforts were key in finding the stolen children, in saving those still alive-"
He closed his eyes, and many of the campers shuddered and looked away. I remembered the children in the hospital and closed my own eyes.
"What the Nazi's- what they did was horrible, and we must be glad that Abel aided in finding the children. But… but despite that we must also remember the many that died because of him. Not only mortals, on both sides of the war, mortals that had nothing to do with the war, but also family, friends-"
He closed his eyes, lowering his head.
"While we remember the good he did-" his voice cracked and he licked his lips, looking up with wet eyes. "He sought to find our lost family, the family we were already mourning, and in the process he became part of that lost family. We- we mourn what he became."
He wiped his cheeks, and raised his chin.
"Abel is the reason that I only have one sibling left alive, when prior I was one of a dozen. He is the reason that so many of you are missing siblings as well, countless lives lost-"
He shook his head, "This is not meant to elucidate on his crimes. We know them, we ache for them. We mourn them all, Abel and all those lost due to the war, both his and the mortals'."
He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, looking at everyone with a firm gaze once more. I swallowed as I looked at him, alone in front of the pyre of the one who killed his family.
The image stuttered, his hands spread and a bright look in his eyes. And the pyre lit with a roar of flames, blacking out my vision.
Know that they have turned their back on their people before.
The fire was replaced by the bright sun, warming my skin for all I was not there. A figure stood before me, on a dirt path worn by thousands of feet walking it. A young man, in a traditional (if worn) khiton. He held black hair that was knotted from travel and stormy blue eyes that peered beseechingly at the clouds above.
His hands were held out, to the heavens, as he prayed to Zeus.
" Please Lord Zeus, Zeus the Savior, Father, I need to return swiftly to mine mother. I humbly request thine aid in mine quest to slay Medusa. Please, Zeus the Good God, I shall offer all that I may to thee upon my return home."
My eyes widened, was this-
The clouds covered the sun and the image slipped away, my feet slipping through the dirt as if it were quicksand and I tumbled down, down through the ground, down from the sky, down through the trees.
Know that they pick a side based on what is offered, not who is right.
Two figures stood before the kneeling boy.
One was a man, a man with winged sandals that gleamed a bright gold, feathers soft and sleek. His hair was a sandy blonde, golden nearly, gleaming like the brightest of coins. Even from here I could see his eyes rivaled the blue of sapphires, with his features akin to that of a thief's, or perhaps a traveler's, or perhaps a messenger's, worn, yet sharp. He looked akin to an older, more traditionally dressed, Luke.
The other was a woman, with elegant and gleaming armor covering her body. Her clothing beneath was fine, the finest I'd ever seen, even when partially hidden by armor. Her hair was uncovered and loose down her back, a deep black that shone in the sunlight. A spear was held in one hand, a pearl charm tied beneath the head of it, and in her other a polished shield. Her eyes were a stormy gray that pierced right through me.
"Go, Perseus, to the Graea. The Gray Sisters, Sisters of the Gorgons, will give you the answers you seek, and the tools you need."
Perseus.
The Titan was showing me the myth of my namesake.
"Take these gifts to aid you in your quest," the woman, who had to be Athena, said. "My shield to look in and see Medusa without fear."
"My Adamantine sickle, " the man, who had to be Hermes continued. " To cut her head off smoothly."
I watched as Perseus bowed deeply, accepting the two valuable items. The shield of Athena, shining brightly in the light, and the Adamantine sickle, one of the most valuable weapons I knew of that a mortal could even dream of wielding.
They enable and encourage the children's crimes.
I slipped from the final tree branch and tumbled to the ground, in a new clearing where Perseus was threatening the Gray Sisters, tossing the eye into a lake before they would speak the knowledge they kept.
I was tumbling through the ground, seeing a flash of Perseus stealing the eye and tooth from the Gray Sisters, threatening them to gain information.
Threats.
The world tilted and I was trapped in more trees, branches not even shaking as I peered down at Perseus taking a pair of winged sandals, a bag, and a Helm that even through the dream slipped a cloak of burning shadows over my skin.
Could that be the Helm of Darkness?
Theft.
I fell from the trees and landed on my feet on a familiar island, lit only by the stars glittering above with even the Moon gone in the darkness of the New Moon. Even with so faint a light, I could see the girl before me.
A familiar girl.
Lara.
She looked lovely, with a soft fox fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders, a delicately woven khiton covering her form, and a pretty sea green veil draped over her hair.
Perseus, in turn, stood before her. The helm was under his arm, the shield was on his arm, and the sickle was in his hand.
"Do not fear, young maiden, for I have arrived to slay the vile gorgon Medusa. You shall soon be safe, and I shall guide you to your home."
Lara did not react as Perseus clearly expected, her unseeing eyes widening, her mouth opening in horror for a long moment even as she recoiled from him. And then she realized that he was turning to move ahead, to move past her, and she spoke.
" You mustn't! " she cried, stepping forward with the familiarity of one who had lived there for many days. " The Gorgons here have done no wrong, and harmed none who did not threaten them! "
Perseus recoiled, confusion coloring his gaze even as he raised his hands as if to placate her.
" You have been fooled, young maiden. The Gorgons are naught but monsters, and I must slay them. Please, step aside and allow me to free thee from their grasp. "
Lara did not step aside and she did not allow him to free her from their grasp. Instead she raised her chin, tilting her head until she was facing him precisely, and stood firm, her feet shifting into a stance that seemed almost battle ready.
"You shall not pass."
Perseus narrowed his eyes, hands lowering from their position of placation. "Step aside, I have no quarrel with thee."
" The quarrel thou has does not concern me. I hold one with thee, should thee remain on this island and threaten the occupants. Leave our island, thou art not welcome here. " Lara's voice was made of the hardest of stone, her hands had risen into a stance that resembled a stone mimicry of my own waterbending stance.
"And yet I have one with thee. Leave our island, you are not welcome here." Lara's voice was made of steel, her hands raised and the air seemed to freeze.
" If thou sides so firmly by the monstrous gorgons, then thou must be but a monster thyself. I give thee one last chance, stand aside, young maiden, else I shall be force to remove thee from mine path. "
" I shall not stand aside, and thou shall not move me. "
Perseus readied his sickle, taking a step forward to strike at Lara, but she struck first.
At first glance she was unarmed, she was small, she held no weapons not even a waterskin as I did. She was wearing fine clothes, her courtship gift, and a veil. She looked the very image of a soft woman, a gentle maiden, and yet…
And yet she was not weak.
She was a Daughter of Poseidon, and while she held none of the sea at her fingertips… He was not only King of the Seas.
Poseidon, Stormbringer, Earthshaker, King of the Seas.
Lara thrust her hand out, her foot stamping hard against the ground, and named herself the Earthshaker's daughter.
The Earth cracked and shattered, shaking and breaking. Perseus stumbled over himself, scrambling to leave the new field he'd entered. The Earth did not remain between them though, it shook and crumbled and roared as she furrowed her brow and let out a slow breath, before slamming her hands together.
The ground rocked and rearranged itself, rocks tumbling over and crashing together right where Perseus had been but moments prior.
"Who art thee!" He cried, disbelief, horror, fear striking his features.
She stood tall, shoulder's back, veil in place as it and her hair streamed behind her in the new winds brewing, from a storm over the horizon. She was framed by the darkness, by the Earth, by the starlight.
And she looked every inch the Rakil av ert Wasare she was.
" I am Lara, Daughter of Arila Poseidon, the Earthshaker, and Medusa's Beloved. And I will stop thee here."
His gaze firmed as she announced herself, and he steadied himself.
" Poseidon's Daughter, He who is known for Monstrous Children. I see now that thee are truly meant to be with Medusa, monster that she is."
Lara's lips twisted into a snarl of rage.
"If thou art in my way, then I shall strike thee down, " he declared. " And indeed, I shall save many from thine monstrous acts."
"Only in death will I allow you past me," Lara uttered low and soft.
Remember her.
She settled her stance, feet apart and hands steady, and pushed .
The Earth obeyed the Earthshaker in her blood, and roiled, shaking violently and crumbling beneath Perseus to trap him in its depths. But this time Perseus was ready.
He took to the skies, escaping the shaking and crumbling Earth. His winged shoes fluttered delicately, their power enough despite their small size, and they lifted him up and above until he was safe and out of reach.
Lara frowned, tilting her head and shifting her feet. She seemed to hear the wings, but could not place them as Perseus.
" He vanished? " she muttered, her confusion apparent.
The Gods did not save her.
Perseus raised Hermes' sickle, his eyes alight with crackling power. The blue was glowing as Calisto's had once. The sky rumbled, the oncoming storm encroaching all the quicker at his call. Electricity sparked over his and my skin.
Oh no.
" Father! " Perseus called.
No .
" Aid me! "
"NO!" I screamed.
But Lara could not hear me.
Electricity burned over my skin as the sky rumbled. Horror filled me as Lara looked up, hearing his words but not understanding his height.
And indeed, they killed her.
The sky split open with a thunderous boom, light seared my eyes and my skin and I s c r e a m e d .
The light faded, I blinked spots from my eyes as they watered beyond the physical pain. My chest twisted as Perseus flew onward and I turned my gaze to Lara.
Know what they have done, know what they have tried to do to you.
Her shawl, the beautiful fox fur that Medusa had painstakingly prepared for her. The beautiful opening courtship gift, given in the field of flowers under the moon and stars, was mere ashes.
Her skin was a map of burns, flesh blackened and steaming. Her face ruined, and yet- and yet-
And yet the pain was written across what remained of her face.
Her hand reached towards the mountain that had been behind her, her unseeing eyes (unseeing in life, and yet all the emptier in death) were turned towards the cave of Medusa.
Her necklace was all that remained, pristine and shining amongst her ruined form.
"No , " I croaked. " No ."
Know all this and choose.
I woke yelling Lara's name.