Skin shuddering and breath quivering, Medusa trembled like the leaves wilting from the olive trees that wound around the temple’s structure. Her knees scraped along the jagged stone as she pushed herself to her feet.

Poseidon, chest rising and falling, posed leisurely, his posture so relaxed, his hands so idle, that rage curdled Medusa’s blood at the sight of his peaceful pleasure. Was he not aware that he had robbed her of all which held value: her body, her future, her maidenhead, her reputation?

Bile scalded her throat, threatening to escape. Medusa tampered it down, swallowing hard, trying to swallow down with it the impotence that smoldered in her ears.

Poseidon was saying something, but Medusa couldn’t hear his worthless droning over the raging, stormy screams that thundered in her head. Her legs shook from the brute, heartless force of what she just endured. A puddle of water pooled by her feet, revealing her reflection.

Medusa had always treated her mortal beauty like a blade, sharpening and polishing it whenever it wrought blood. A rarity within her family, a beautiful dove amidst a coterie of winged nightmares. Graeae, Echidna and Ladon, her serpentine sisters, relied on that beauty, on that polished blade that teased so many throats and carved through so many layers of society’s skin.

Now the glassy water betrayed her, showing in perfect clarity each flaw. Kohl trickled down her skin, staining her swarthy cheeks black. Thick, scalding tears coated her cheeks and dripped into the corner of her mouth. Medusa’s tears tasted like the saltwater in the clearest sea. But the sea now was her foe, its ruler an enemy which she swore to tear apart, bit by bit, violating every inch of Godflesh her talons could find, just as he had done to her.

Every man she met lured her in with soft touches and fingers lacing through hers. But, once the storm had swelled and swept her away, all that came from it was a realization too bitter to stomach. Her beauty, her body, her flesh and bones were helpless bait strung on a hook in a sea full of feral sharks. All men wanted to do was to devour and shred her into ribbons.

It filled her with molten rage, boiling and curdling her blood and setting her skin on fire. I don’t know how, Medusa thought, but I will make every man on this earth regret ever laying eyes upon me. Please, gods who have forsaken me, let me instill fear inside them the way they let their seed tear through me. Let me be as strong as the stone from which Athena is carved. A shattering thunder reverberated through the very stones of the temple, her bones shivering from the echoes of the quaking. “WHO DARES TARNISH MY TEMPLE WITH THEIR SINFUL SACRILEGE?” A voice as powerful as the stones beneath Medusa’s feet resounded through the temple. In a moment of fear, Medusa pressed herself against a pillar, and her knees swayed under the overwhelming presence that had torn her way through light and space. Athena.

“What have you done, Poseidon,” growled Athena, her sharp, dark eyebrows narrowed in fury.

Athena, in all her wisdom and war-winning bloodlust, was beautiful in a way the scribes never cared to detail. She was beautiful in the way that a dark, churning sea was beautiful, like the chasmic darkness that yawned above the earth was beautiful, like a beauty so deep and wondrous and frightening that it etched itself in the black of your eye. She held a spear in her hand, and, given the look in her murky eyes, Athena intended to use it.

Poseidon didn’t even have the nerve to look frightened. “Don’t worry, little niece. She’s just some common whore.”

Medusa was sure feverish fire coursed through her blood, her anger was so torrid.

“How dare you,” she said shakily, but her voice still held blistering venom. “My father walked this earth before yours was even born,” she spat.

Poseidon chuckled. Anger rattled her very bones, and she shook from unalloyed wrath.

“You would never know looking at her, but she has quite the temper,” Poseidon joked, gesturing to the claw marks that were beginning to heal under his godly power. She left those there. Out of desperation, out of carnal instinct.

Athena’s iron eyes stormed with savagery. Her voice, however thunderous, was perniciously calm.

“You ravaged a helpless woman in my temple, and you laugh about it?” Athena’s face held the same stony, stoic expression as the statue molded in her honor.

Medusa’s hair stood on end as Athena’s power swept through the temple. Above them, the sky had turned a somber gray, and its depths rumbled with thunder so monstrous it echoed within Medusa’s bones.

The power of a god, Medusa thought. I want to be that strong. Strong enough to strike fear into the hearts of men.

Tempestuous gray eyes met Medusa’s gaze, and Medusa realized her prayers had been heard.

“You will leave my temple,” Athena commanded, with a voice in harmony with the flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder, “for your crimes against women and your arrogance and your disregard for the virgin goddess who stands before you. You and your children and your children’s children are from now on my enemies. I will never forget this, Poseidon. And I will never forgive you.”

Poseidon raised a reasoning hand. “You’re overreacting, young one,” he tried, but lightning struck outside the temple, shattering his sentence.

“Do not talk to me as if I am inferior.” Athena’s voice echoed as if thousands spoke with her. “Get out before I remove your manhood.”

“I don’t fear your spear,” Poseidon said.

“Yet you reek of fear,” Athena sneered. “Leave. Now.”

Medusa stifled her wicked snickers as Poseidon left, but her amusement quickly diminished. She now stood alone in a temple with a goddess who stunk of war. Athena inhaled, but within that breath, Medusa was on her knees, face pressed to the ground. Sobs racked her body as she raced for the words to express her gratitude.

“I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t arrived,” Medusa managed to say between sobs. “Thank you—thank you.”

Once Medusa’s tears absolved, Athena spoke. “You prayed to me. I heard you. And now I’m here to answer your prayers.”

At this, Medusa raised her head. She wiped her face before responding. “What do you mean? Haven’t you already?”

“You said,” Athena reiterated, “that you wanted to strike fear into the hearts of men. To make every man who looked upon you regret it. Do you still want this?”

Medusa bowed her head once more. “Yes, yes, more than anything, yes.” Her body shook with the yearning for that strength.

“You will become a monster,” Athena warned. “So treacherous that no man will be able to look you in the eyes. You will become like your sisters, but stronger. Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” Medusa said. “Skin or scales, it doesn’t matter. Make me hideous, tear apart the beauty that they love so much. Or make me so beautiful they hate themselves. Make them loathe my beauty. Make them die for it.”

The goddess’s mouth curved at the ends, almost forming a smile. “Your prayers are answered.”