The forest was still dripping with rain when morning came. Shafts of golden light pierced the canopy, catching on droplets that sparkled like shards of glass. Seraphina sat by the river, the necklace of the Still Eyes warm against her skin.
The serpents on her head rested, calmer than she had ever known them. They no longer hissed at every sound. They no longer writhed with the constant tension of guarding her gaze. It was as if the necklace had soothed them too, locking the deadly magic behind a veil of silence.
For the first time in her life, she wasn't terrified of opening her eyes.
Dorian approached carefully, tapping his stick along the stones. "You're quiet," he said with a small smile. "That's new. Last night you sounded like a whole nest of snakes was about to eat me."
Seraphina smirked faintly. "They were deciding."
The serpents flicked their tongues in agreement, and she laughed — truly laughed. The sound startled her. She couldn't remember the last time she had laughed.
Dorian grinned. "See? You're not cursed. You just have terrible roommates on your head."
"Careful," she teased. "They can hear you."
A serpent nudged her cheek, as if to remind her they were very much awake.
---
The morning passed with hesitant comfort. Dorian told her about his village — a fishing settlement by the cliffs, where the sea sang against the rocks and the air always smelled of salt.
"I wasn't born blind," he explained as he tapped his stick into the soil. "I lost my sight as a child. A fever took it. Some people pity me, but I don't mind. I see the world differently now." He tilted his face toward her. "Maybe that's why I'm not afraid of you."
Seraphina's chest tightened. "Most people run the moment they hear my name."
"Well," he said softly, "I don't know your face. But I know your voice. And right now, it's the voice of someone who's very tired of being alone."
Her throat constricted. The necklace glowed faintly, its warmth almost like a heartbeat against her chest.
---
But peace was fleeting.
By midday, the forest grew tense. The serpents stiffened, tongues flicking rapidly. One hissed a warning.
Seraphina froze. "Hunters," she whispered.
Dorian's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. The serpents never lied.
A sound followed — distant, but steady. The clash of armor. The rhythmic drum of boots. The hunters had found their trail.
Panic surged in her chest. She grabbed Dorian's hand. "We have to go. Now."
---
They ran. Branches whipped at their arms, leaves scattering underfoot. Dorian kept pace better than she expected, his stick tapping the earth quickly, his steps sure despite his blindness. Seraphina guided him when the path twisted sharply, but often it felt like he knew the forest by memory.
Behind them, voices grew louder.
"Spread out!"
"She cannot escape the light of Apollo!"
"Take the relic from her throat!"
Seraphina clutched the necklace protectively, her serpents hissing furiously.
"They want this," she realized aloud.
Dorian frowned. "The necklace?"
"Yes. They called it a relic." She looked down at the pendant, its eye-engraved surface gleaming. "It must be sacred to them."
"Then we definitely shouldn't give it up," Dorian said firmly, surprising her with his steadiness. "If it protects you, it's yours."
His words planted a seed of courage in her chest.
---
At last, they stumbled into a clearing. A ruined temple stood there, half-swallowed by vines. Its pillars were broken, its marble steps cracked. Moss covered the carvings, but faintly, Seraphina could see the etchings of eyes — hundreds of eyes, carved in stone.
The serpents hissed, uneasy.
"This place…" Seraphina murmured. "It feels… old. Older than Olympus."
Dorian touched the steps. "Safe?"
"Maybe." She wasn't sure. But they had no choice.
She led him inside. The air smelled of dust and wildflowers, untouched by mortals for centuries. The necklace pulsed more strongly here, as though answering some hidden call.
When Seraphina touched one of the carved eyes on the wall, the stone glowed faintly beneath her fingers. Her serpents hissed in awe.
Dorian tilted his head. "What is it?"
"A temple," she whispered. "But not to the gods. To something older. Whoever made this… they knew about my kind."
The carvings seemed to whisper back, faint as a dream. You are not alone.
Her eyes stung with tears. For the first time, she dared to believe she belonged somewhere.
But before she could breathe that fragile hope, the hunters' voices cut through the air.
"There! She's inside!"
Torches flared outside the ruins. The leader stepped forward, his golden mask gleaming, a spear of sunlight in his hand. His voice rang out like a war-drum.
"Gorgon child! By order of Apollo, surrender the Necklace of Still Eyes, or your friend will die."
Seraphina's blood ran cold. She pulled Dorian behind her, her serpents shrieking with rage.
"I won't let them take it," she whispered.
Dorian squeezed her hand. His voice was steady. "Then we fight."
---
The hunters closed in. The temple walls glowed faintly, as if awakening after centuries of silence. The necklace burned against her chest, its light joining the carvings on the walls.
For the first time in her life, Seraphina felt something other than fear.
She felt power.
And she would not give it up.