A Heart in Stone

The tall grasses swayed as several Aurai slipped between the slender blades, their movements barely more than whispers on the wind. The breeze they carried sent ripples over the field, undulations spreading in their wake before they vanished over a distant hill. Silence returned as the grass resumed its gentle dance beneath the darkening sky. 

The short-lived tranquility shattered as a cloaked figure suddenly appeared, moving quickly through the otherwise uninhabited field. The grass blades slashed at her face as she moved as if protesting the way they were being unceremoniously thrust aside. Athena paid them no mind, her gaze fixed on the distant pillars of her temple. Her godly form shimmered faintly in the growing darkness as Nyx’s veil of night spread across the sky, chasing away the last traces of day.

The braziers should have been lit by now, their glow casting light across the temple. But tonight, they remained dark. 

Something was wrong.

A shadow passed overhead. Athena glanced up, half-expecting the return of the nymphs, but instead saw only an owl landing on one of the olive trees near the temple. Hopefully a fortuitous omen. 

She rushed toward the steps leading into the chamber, but a foreign stench halted her, burning her nostrils. It smelled of moss and salt, like something that had been left to decay in the sea’s depths.

Poseidon.

There was a soft fluttering in her stomach. What had her uncle been doing here? 

The huddled group of women inside the temple stirred as she entered. Two of her priestesses stepped forward to greet her, their faces shadowed by the temple’s darkness. The air felt heavy, thick with unspoken words. Athena’s unease deepened.

“What is it?” she asked after a long, tense pause.

Hermia, the elder of the two, cleared her throat. “Your uncle…” she started but faltered. Athena’s eyes locked onto the woman's face, her silence urging Hermia to continue.

“He’s been visiting the temple,” Hermia finally said before hurriedly adding, “Of course, we’ve been blessed to be in his presence. But…” She trailed off again, her voice quivering with unease.

Athena’s stomach dropped, and she knew what was coming.

“Medusa said it was her fault,” Hermia finished softly.

Athena held up a hand, halting the words. She’d heard enough. “Where is she?”

“In the inner chamber,” Amara, the other priestess, answered. “She hasn’t eaten or left her bed since it happened.” Her eyes burned with barely contained fury.

Athena strode through the temple with resolve, her steps quickening. This couldn’t be true. Not to one of her own. She reached the inner chamber and approached the bed where Medusa lay huddled beneath the blankets, her usually lustrous black hair matted, her face hidden.

“My goddess,” she whispered. Then, her words tumbled out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to draw his eye. I swear. He said he saw me walking, and my beauty was irresistible. I should never have ventured that close to the sea, but I wore your symbol. I thought it would keep him from—” she silenced when she caught the look in Athena’s eyes.

“This will not stand,” Athena said, grimacing as she suppressed her anger, “I will go to my father. I’ll get retribution for what Poseidon has done to you.”

She turned to leave but paused when she saw the doubt in Medusa’s eyes. I am his favorite child. He will listen to me, Athena thought, bolting toward Olympus.

****************************

Athena returned shortly after, her voice urgent. “Get up. Quickly.”

Medusa flinched from her touch but sat up, bleary-eyed. “What is it? Did your father listen to you?”

Athena paused at the question. “I didn’t get that far,” she replied, continuing to help Medusa rise. She avoided her gaze as she spoke. “When I arrived, Poseidon was already there. I overheard them. My father was instructing him to keep the whole affair quiet—keep you quiet, one way or another. We have to get you out of here, somewhere safe.”

Medusa pulled away. “What’s the point?” She hung her head, her dark hair a limp curtain around her face. “All my life, men have tried to possess me, obsessed with beauty I never asked for. I came to your temple hoping to escape, to find safety from their gaze. But even your protection isn’t enough. Where could I be any safer? Let him come for me. Maybe then, I won’t have to suffer any longer.”

Athena bristled, “I won’t allow that sort of talk. We must go. Now.”

“And go where?” Medusa’s voice was hollow. “If I run, I’ll run for the rest of my life. Not just from Poseidon, but from Zeus too. I’m powerless to stop this.”

Athena’s form brightened with barely contained rage. She had been warned against using her powers on mortals, but the other gods did as they pleased. If they could impose their will, so could she. A plan began to take shape in her mind. “Then I will make you powerful,” she said, locking her gaze on Medusa. “I’ll make it so no man may force himself upon you again. Your name will be feared.”

Medusa met her gaze, lips pressed tight, but she rose. “But your father…” she began, “if he wants me dead…”

“I’ll deal with my father.” Athena cut her off, her voice stern. “Right now, we must focus on you. I know a place, but we must leave immediately.”

Athena gathered Medusa into her arms, her light flaring as she prepared to travel. She rarely expended so much power for instant movement, but it wasn’t safe for them to venture under the open sky.

The light in the room grew blinding, forcing Medusa to close her eyes. When she opened them again, they were no longer in the temple. The cave entrance before them was jagged with stone fragments, its dark shadows eerie. Two figures materialized from the gloom, their speed unnatural. At the sight of Athena, they halted, hissing softly as they bowed.

Medusa stepped back, her instinct to hide behind Athena’s form. The figures before them were Gorgons. Their skin, green and scaly, flashed in Athena’s light. Massive wings unfurled from their backs, and tusks jutted from their mouths. But the most grotesque detail was their hair—a writhing mass of snakes, hissing and twisting in every direction.

“My goddess,” one Gorgon said, straightening, “How may we serve you?”

“My priestess needs protection,” Athena said, her voice steady. “I wish to leave her with you.”

The Gorgons studied Medusa, their cold eyes unreadable. “We do not keep humans,” the second one replied. “Especially not one so beautiful. She’ll draw too much attention. Heroes will come from across the land, seeking to rescue the beautiful maiden from the clutches of monsters. No, my goddess, we cannot keep her.”

“I can transform her,” Athena pleaded, her voice growing more desperate. “Change her into one of you. Will you take her then?”

The Gorgons remained silent for a moment, considering the offer. “If she sacrifices her beauty,” the first one finally said, “then yes, we can take her.”

Athena looked to Medusa, allowing her to make this decision for herself. The woman’s eyes were set in a grim resolve, ““My beauty has brought me nothing but suffering. I’ll make this trade… though it’s not a choice. Maybe one day, I’ll find peace.”

Athena’s heart sank at the defeated tone, but she gathered her power, her resolve unwavering. Another flash of light filled the cave. Medusa screamed as the energy surged through her, reshaping her very being. When the light dimmed, a third Gorgon stood before them. She locked eyes with Athena, and the goddess could feel the power flowing through the newly formed Medusa. 

****************************

Years passed, and the name Medusa became one of terror. Stories spread of the fearsome Gorgon, who could turn anyone to stone with a single glance.

Zeus’s rage had been palpable when he discovered the truth of Athena’s actions. She could still recall the searing pain of his thunderbolt as he roared, “This was supposed to be handled discreetly! Now, her name is everywhere. Everyone knows of the monster who kills with a glance. Soon, they’ll uncover how she came to be. If Poseidon’s name is tarnished, it weakens us all. We must appear united, or mortals will believe we’re losing control of our rule.”

He had demanded Athena stay away from Medusa, and she had obeyed—for a time. But now, Zeus asked too much. She had to act. Medusa needed to know what was coming.

 Athena approached the cave of the gorgons, picking her way between the statues of Medusa’s victims. Mostly men. All frozen mid-attack, their expressions etched in terror for eternity.

A dark satisfaction rolled through Athena as she took in the number of petrified intruders. These men had come fully aware of Medusa’s power, yet they sought glory in slaying a “monster.” They deserved their fates. But this time was different.

 From the shadows of the cave there was a clattering of stone, a rustle of wings, a low hissing, “My goddess, returned after so long.”

 Medusa emerged from the dark, as terrible as the day Athena had cursed her. Yet, as their gazes locked, Athena saw a glimmer of the girl she had once been. Hardened, yes, but still there underneath it all.

“You’ve been busy,” Athena said, gesturing to the statues.

The serpents crowning Medusa’s head reared up, the hissing intensifying, “I have tried to live in peace. These fools plague me, seeking their glory in my death,” Medusa spat.

“I bring news of another hero,” Athena said carefully. “He’s been tasked with taking your head.”

“All who’ve come for it remain here,” Medusa replied, her tone icy.

“This one is different,” Athena admitted, frustration creeping into her voice. “He’s a child of Zeus. Our father has ordered me to help him, to atone for my ‘sin.’ Hera’s wrath prevents Zeus from acting directly, so he’s sent Hermes to ensure I comply. I’ll do what I can to hinder the hero, but under Hermes’ watchful eye, I can make no promises. You must be ready.”

 The snakes had gone very still, silent for the first time since her arrival. Medusa stood as still as one of her statues, her eyes penetrating Athena’s.

“And then what?” Medusa said.

“What do you mean?”

“I survive this, and then I just wait for the next hero to come along and try to kill me? All this time, I’ve been surviving, but I’m no longer living. Whenever I hear another human approaching, I think maybe this will be it. Maybe this will be the end. Yet still I endure.”

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying. Don’t cross your father. Help the boy. When the end comes, know that I will embrace it willingly.”

She was already retreating into the shadows.

****************************

Athena watched from the growing darkness, her heart torn. She had resolved to kill the hero. She truly had. But throughout the journey, she had come to realize that he, too, was a victim of the gods. His story was one just as tragic. 

His grandfather, Acrisius, locked his daughter away when he heard the prophecy that her son would kill him. Zeus, intrigued by the challenge of pursuing a forbidden woman, became infatuated with Danae. Disguised as a shower of golden light, Zeus visited her, and the inevitable happened. When Danae gave birth to a son, Acrisius became enraged. Rather than killing his daughter and grandson, he had a wooden chest built, forced Danae and her baby into it, and cast them into the sea.

Instead of being dashed upon the rocks, the chest landed up ashore on the Island of Seriphos. They were rescued by a fisherman, Dictys, who took them into their home and raised Perseus as if he were his own.

Alas, if only all men were as good as Dictys. 

But darkness lurks in the heart of man. The ruler of the island, Polydectes, became infatuated with Danae. He sought a way to remove Perseus, who protected her. He demanded Perseus bring him the head of Medusa, hoping the boy would perish in the attempt. Perseus agreed, blinded by his desire to protect his mother.

How could Athena kill this boy now? He wasn’t after glory. He was only trying to protect his mother, something Zeus could have provided had he cared enough. Once again, the gods played with mortals, tossing them into the chaos they created. Athena stood frozen. She saw Medusa in the distance, standing near her cave’s entrance.

A gust of wind rustled her hair. Hermes appeared at her side, his winged shoes allowing him to travel faster than the eye could follow.

His golden curls were hidden by a wide-brimmed hat, his face slack with boredom, “He’s wearing the Helm of Darkness, so it’ll be hard to spot him. We’ll only see him when he uses the shield as a mirror. But I did spot your little beast. Shame what you did to her. She was quite a beauty before the snakes.”

Athena stiffened, turning her gray eyes onto her half-brother, “What I did to her?”

“Well, Father told me the whole story,” Hermes said, his voice thick with self-righteousness. “How she threw herself at Poseidon, how you cursed her when you found out. Your vengeance was quite villainous, dear sister. Even Hera wouldn’t come up with something like that. Poor creature.”

Athena’s stomach churned. So that was the story Zeus was telling. It sickened her, but in a way, it was true. Was she not as much to blame as Poseidon for Medusa’s pain?

Hermes continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “You know, Father asked me to keep an eye on you. He’s worried you don’t want Medusa’s suffering to end. He warned me you may try to foil the hero’s plans. I could tell Father the boy was killed by your beast. For a price, of course.”

She looked at him in surprise. Her mind raced as she thought of the possibility of saving Medusa. But did she really want to owe a creature like Hermes a favor? 

“Better hurry. There’s our little brother now.”

She turned and saw Perseus hidden behind a large rock, shield raised as a mirror to avoid Medusa’s gaze. Athena wanted to stop him. She wanted to take Hermes’ offer, but his proposal made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything as Perseus crept closer to Medusa, his blade raising slowly. 

Athena made her decision. She turned her back on the scene, striding away, leaving the grisly tableau behind her. She would not punish those who weren’t responsible for the gods’ choices.

“So I take it that’s a no then?” Hermes called to her retreating figure. 

****************************

Athena stared at the severed head before her, her face an unyielding mask as nausea churned within. But she was an Olympian. This head could not turn her to stone. Yet her limbs felt heavy, her heart hardening. She dared not let the horror blossoming in her stomach bloom upon her face.

Perseus stood tall, his eyes bright with triumph, oblivious to the agony simmering beneath Athena’s composed exterior. Around him, the gathered gods and mortals muttered their admiration for the hero.

“Who else but a son of Zeus could accomplish such a feat?”

“A tale for the ages!”

“She wasn’t even that fair before the snakes, in my opinion.”

“Finally, men are safe from her gaze.”

Athena inhaled slowly. Men had always been safe from Medusa’s gaze as long as they left her alone. But that was not the way of man. Make a woman beautiful and pure, and they will stop at nothing to staunch their desire, seeking a way to possess her. Make a woman monstrous and powerful, and they will stop at nothing to staunch their fear, seeking a way to destroy her.

This was not what she had intended for Medusa, her once-beloved priestess. Transforming her had been an act of desperation, a way to shield her from further violation, to give her the power to protect herself. But instead of granting safety, it had placed a target on her back. 

Her gaze flicked to Zeus and Poseidon. The two exchanged a knowing look. Poseidon’s aquamarine beard twitched as a slow smile spread across his face. Zeus raised an eyebrow, his golden light glowing with pride.

Pain tightened in Athena’s jaw. Once, she had gone to Zeus, pleading for justice after Poseidon had violated Medusa in her own temple. Her priestess. Her responsibility. How could she have expected anything different when her father, too, was guilty of the same sins? Mortals and gods alike were cut from the same cloth, their appetites unchecked, their cruelty boundless.

Zeus’s eyes flicked to hers, electric energy crackling in the air between them. The only warning he would give.

 Athena dropped her gaze and forced a strained smile, swallowing any words of protest. She would not defy him now. Kneeling, Athena gently lifted the head. The dead snakes flopped in front of lifeless eyes. Lifeless, yes, but finally free of the pain that had haunted her for so long. Few spared her the odd look, but she didn’t care as she cradled it to her chest. They called you a monster, a way to justify the cry for your destruction. 

​She stood slowly, clutching the head as if it were a precious relic. Turning from the throng of sycophants and revelers, she walked from the hall, her steps measured, her resolve steady. They would never tell Medusa’s story as it was. They would bury it beneath lies, woven by Zeus to protect their fragile hierarchy.

But Athena knew the truth. 

And she would carry it, as she carried Medusa’s head, for as long as the weight could be borne.