Artemis left in surprisingly high spirits—humming some celestial tune, even skipping a little. Meanwhile, Cyd stood motionless, shoulders slumped, staring into the forest like it had just betrayed him personally.
"Are you mad at me?" Athena asked, suddenly next to him. She was on her tiptoes, placing a flower crown on his head like that would somehow fix everything.
Cyd blinked. "I'm not mad."
Athena sighed, brushing nonexistent dust from her robe. "You don't like Jason."
That was true. And not in a petty way—Jason just rubbed him the wrong way. "Not particularly."
"Well, Jason has to get the Golden Fleece," Athena said, exasperated. "Hercules already bailed on the Argo. Without you, his odds are… dismal."
"They'll be fine," Cyd muttered. "They've still got, what, Medea?"
"Oh? So you know already about Jason's plans." Athena gave a knowing smirk. "Then you also know that helping Jason succeed would make you a hero to the gods. And heroes get rewarded."
"Let me guess," Cyd said, gesturing to the magical markings around his left wrist. "Not with a blessing?"
Athena's fingers tapped against his chest lightly. "If I see your wisdom shine through, I'll give you exactly the kind of blessing you need."
"Great," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "So I pull off the impossible, give the fleece to Artemis, and Jason still loses."
"Oh, I'll give him a fake," she said cheerfully. "He won't notice. And besides, Jason's never going to inherit anything except an early grave."
Cyd stared at her. "You're playing chess while we're all stuck on checkers, huh?"
Athena just winked.
Cyd groaned. If he wanted a peaceful life in Greece—which was starting to feel like asking for rain in the underworld—he'd have to play the gods' games. Make them happy, and maybe—just maybe—they'd stop throwing monsters and prophecies at him.
As that sobering thought settled in, Athena's smile shifted. Something cold and cunning flashed in her eyes as she leaned close—so close he could smell the faint scent of olives and parchment.
"A little monster found you," she whispered. "We'll talk again soon. Remember, I'm on your side."
And then she vanished—just blinked out of existence like she'd never been there.
Cyd tilted his head. "On my side? What's that supposed to mean—"
"She means the gods have started gambling again," came a quiet voice behind him.
Cyd turned and looked down. A small hand gripped the hem of his cloak. Familiar. Cold. Gentle.
"Medusa," he said softly. "Long time no see. Did you finally run out of patience with your sisters?"
"You've grown," Medusa murmured, gazing up at him with a mix of pride and… fear. "You were shorter than me once."
"And you still pinch my face." He winced as she did exactly that.
"Don't talk about my sisters like that," she said, pouting. "They sent me. They just don't know how to express themselves."
"That's generous of you," he muttered, setting her gently on the ground. "So, what? You're here to drag me back?"
She fiddled with the edge of her dark cloak, clearly uncomfortable. "They told me to do what I think is right."
"Still as decisive as ever," Cyd said with a crooked smile. "Well, in that case—come with me."
Her eyes widened. "I can't. I'm a monster. I'll just put you in danger."
"You've always been in danger," Cyd said. "But you still try to protect them. Even though you're the one who can die."
She flinched. That hit too close.
"I'm not letting you go back to that island," he said. "Because we both know what'll happen. Some hero with daddy issues and a shiny sword is going to show up, and you'll die trying to save them again."
Medusa bit her lip. "But they're my sisters."
"They'll be fine," Cyd said firmly. "They're immortal. You're not. That's why they sent you away, isn't it? They knew the next fight would kill you."
Medusa looked away.
"I don't want to be responsible for your death," Cyd said, voice tightening. "So stay with me."
"But I—"
"You don't need a plan," he cut her off, stepping forward. "You just need to follow me. Trust me."
Her breath caught. Slowly, she nodded. "Okay."
Cyd smiled gently. "I knew you'd say that."
And in that moment, all the cold armor she wore around her heart cracked. For just a second, she let herself be soft again—lifting a hand to brush his cheek, as if she wasn't sure he was real.
From far away, on an island touched by salt and silence, two ancient beings looked up at the same sky. Stheno and Euryale exchanged a glance, and then smiled.
"Take care of her, won't you?" one said.
"Our little hero," said the other, almost fondly.
—
Back in the clearing, Cyd squared his shoulders and looked toward the horizon.
"I'll get the Fleece," he whispered. "Dragon or no dragon. Whatever it takes."
Athena's voice echoed in his head:
'I am the goddess of wisdom. I give only what's needed.'
Maybe she was right. Maybe, this time, what he needed wasn't peace.
Maybe it was a fight worth winning.
Medusa leaned in and rested her forehead against his. "You'll come back alive?"
He nodded.
"Then I believe you."
He closed his eyes.
So much for a quiet life.