The rain eased into a soft drizzle. The storm had moved on, leaving only the smell of wet earth and the hush of the forest. Dorian sat cross-legged on the grass, tapping his walking stick absently against his knee. Beside him, Seraphina hugged her knees to her chest, her serpents twitching every so often as though uncertain what to make of the boy.
For a long while, neither spoke.
Dorian was the first to break the silence.
"So… are you going to tell me what you're running from?"
Seraphina stiffened. "You wouldn't believe me."
He smiled faintly. "Try me."
Her eyes burned as she stared at the river's reflection. "The gods," she whispered at last. "Their hunters came for me. They want me dead… or worse."
Most people would have laughed. Or called her mad. But Dorian's blind eyes softened. "And why?"
Seraphina's serpents stirred restlessly, and she touched one with trembling fingers, calming it. Her voice cracked when she spoke.
"Because I was born wrong. Because of my blood. My mother was Medusa."
The name fell like a stone between them.
Even Dorian, who did not flinch easily, sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers tightened on his walking stick. "Medusa… the monster from the old stories?"
Her throat constricted. "Yes. The one cursed by Athena, slain by Perseus. The one everyone feared." She lowered her head, ashamed. "I am her daughter. I carry her curse. One glance… and mortals turn to stone."
She waited for him to run. For the familiar cry of monster.
Instead, Dorian's lips pressed together in thought. "Then it's not you who's wrong," he said quietly. "It's the world that's cruel."
Seraphina's eyes widened. No one had ever spoken such words to her.
Her serpents tilted their heads curiously at him, hissing softly as if they, too, were surprised.
"Still…" Dorian said with a rueful laugh, "I'd prefer not to be turned into a statue. I make a terrible ornament."
Seraphina almost smiled. Almost. "Then… don't look at me."
"That's easy enough," he said, tapping his pale eyes. "I don't look at anyone."
For the first time, she let out a laugh — small, broken, but real.
---
They sat together until the night deepened. At last, Seraphina rose, brushing damp grass from her legs. "I should go. The hunters will find me if I stay in one place."
But as she turned, something glittered in the mud by the riverbank. A faint golden gleam, half-buried. Her serpents hissed, alerting her.
Seraphina knelt and dug it free. It was a necklace — a simple chain of bronze, but its pendant shimmered faintly with an otherworldly glow. She felt warmth pulse against her skin as she touched it, like the necklace itself was alive.
"What is it?" Dorian asked, hearing the serpents shift.
"I don't know…" She held it up. The pendant was shaped like an eye, but the lid was closed, as though in eternal sleep.
Her serpents writhed uneasily. One even snapped at it, as though sensing something divine.
When Seraphina clasped the necklace around her throat, the world… changed. The serpents went still. Her gaze softened, the deadly weight behind her eyes dimming like a fire being banked.
Her chest tightened. "It's… it's gone," she whispered in disbelief. "The curse. I can feel it locked away."
She turned toward Dorian without thinking. He gasped — not from pain, not from being turned to stone, but simply at the sensation of someone's eyes truly on him for the first time.
"You're… looking at me?" he asked softly.
Tears filled her eyes. "Yes. And you're still here."
The serpents gave a strange, contented hiss.
---
For the first time in her life, Seraphina dared to step closer to someone without fear of killing them.
Dorian reached out cautiously. "May I?"
Her breath hitched, but she nodded. His hand brushed her cheek, trembling slightly. She flinched — not from fear, but from the overwhelming unfamiliarity of human touch. His fingers lingered gently, tracing the curve of her face.
"You're real," he whispered. "Not a monster. Just a girl."
Seraphina closed her eyes, her body shaking with a storm of emotions. No one had ever touched her like this. No one had ever dared.
The necklace pulsed faintly, its glow reflecting in the river.
But even in that fragile moment of peace, danger crept closer.
Far beyond the forest, the hunters regrouped. Their leader, a tall man with a sun emblem branded across his armor, knelt before a broken fragment of stone — the remains of their fallen comrade. His jaw clenched.
"She has inherited the curse," he said darkly. "But the gods foretold she carries something more. A relic. A key."
One of the soldiers spat on the ground. "She has the Necklace of Still Eyes."
The leader's eyes gleamed. "Then Apollo will have his prize. Find the gorgon girl. Find her, and rip it from her throat."
---
Back at the river, Seraphina pressed the necklace against her chest, hope flickering for the first time in her life. She didn't yet know its true name, nor the power it carried.
All she knew was this: with the necklace, she wasn't a monster anymore.
For the first time, she felt like she could be human.
But how long could hope last, when gods themselves wanted what she carried?