Chapter Text

ⅠⅠ - The Work

Thus began a tentative, quiet co-existence.

Rumi found that she did not mind being led blindly. Not when it was Mira who guided her with gentle words and gentler touches. The feel of a blindfold grew more comfortable every day, as did suppressing the urge for her eyes to stray, and they found ways to co-exist with the danger of proximity carefully contained.

Rumi caught glimpses all the same. A hand, a foot, a flutter of chiton. Her heart beat faster at each, and increasingly less with the fear of barely missed consequences. 

Mira often remained a steady presence behind her, as Rumi was taught the intricacies of caring for her garden and her livestock. At Seriphos she’d often been chosen for the rougher work. The kind that would easily injure or overwhelm others. She was a breaker by nature, shaping the land with callous hands and crass methods. 

It is how she protected. Her body the shield, her hands the blunt instruments. She’d been taught all her life to tame the land, carry the weight, kill the predator, wreck, remove, rebuild. Others would then paint their lives in the wake of her tempered tempest.

But she would watch her mothers coax thread into a cloth and clay into amphora and paint into patterns and flowers into bloom, and she would wish she’d been born more tender.

She wished no longer. It was not a matter of born. It was a matter of choice. She knew it, even

with her thoughts askew as her mind fluttered into a new shape to match the infant truths in her heart.

With her was a woman cursed to turn her world barren, full of dust and despair. Rumi had found grief and persistence instead. Life clung, much like hope, with teeth and claw and root and shell, frail yet wild. With a fortitude she had never considered, but always possessed. The land need not be conquered could it be coaxed. No amount of callouses could prevent her from touching the world softly. And she found often it returned in kind.

The first flower that bloomed in her care rooted itself to her soul, and she found the affection of animals, so pure and simple in its innocence, to be a far greater gift than anything a god could bestow.

It was still the sea where she excelled, however. Daughter of it, she was not. But her father was a fisherman and had taught her the trade well. Mira would never let the water touch her, and had neglected its many bounties for many years. Anything living that saw Mira before it died would turn to stone, and anything dead that found its way to land was often more rot than reward. But Rumi had no such qualms. So Mira wove them traps and nets, while Rumi tended them eagerly and expertly.

Her catch might have been at home in Posiedon’s realm, but they were provided by Zoey’s father, Nereus, and she knew it to be blessed, free from any poisonous influences.

They spoke little, but found little need for it. Mira was clearly scared to shatter whatever she thought it was that kept Rumi there. Trust did not come easily, nor did the comfort of her presence. Mira still disappeared every night, leaving Rumi to rest under Athena’s watchful gaze. Rumi did not ask where she went, and Mira did not tell.

Rumi no longer reached for her, after she flinched the first time. Rumi no longer raised her voice, after seeing her stiffen so. Rumi no longer moved suddenly, after hearing in her periphery the coil of snakes turn to her at once and hiss in fear. Rumi no longer walked quietly, after finding the tip of a spear pressed against her sternum.

Mira never reached. Her words remained soft. She moved slow, predictable, and loud, so as to give Rumi ample time to avert her gaze, even when she wore the blindfold. 

They were both prey and predator, struggling to find a way to break free of the roles that had been built into their bones to follow the one building inside of their hearts.

It had been days when, as Rumi tended to woven baskets full of catch, Zoey appeared once again.

She clung to a turtle, entering the bay languidly, a glisten of trinkets and obsidian hair. When she saw Rumi, she smiled in a way that put the setting sun to shame. “You remain.” Her smile dimmed. “Mira?”

Rumi straightened, wiping her brow with her forearm. “At the temple, last I heard.”

Zoey relaxed in satisfaction, dark eyes on the shine of Rumi’s skin. “You have chosen peace, then.”

Rumi smiled, closed her eyes, and tilted her head to the sky. Her eyelids burned a familiar pale wine. “Yes. I can no longer fathom otherwise.”

Zoey nodded as if the answer was both expected and disheartening. “You have answered her question.”

Rumi’s fingers curled into the tunic over her heart. “I have.”

“It is not an answer she will easily accept.” Zoey seemed to swallow down something bitter-sour. Rumi knew the shape of relieved defeat, of someone glad to have lost, for it meant the fight to be over, its toll no longer mounting. Fury and fear evaporating as comprehension settled, carving a hollow of grief. Zoey had lost something when Rumi had gained. It was in the shallowing of her eyes and the hunching of her spine and the bite in her jaw and the tremble at her throat.

“I know,” said Rumi. And she did. Not only the work ahead of her, but the work ahead of them both. The burden that could be shared if only Zoey would hear her.

“You are saying you will persist?” said Zoey as she cast her face downward, her familiar vibrancy draining from her like water through a sieve.

The ocean might cradle the world, but the sky watched over both. And no matter how deep, all water eventually found its way to it. Such was the cycle. Zoey thought herself unreachable? She would not let herself rise to the surface and reach out her hand further?

Rumi refused to stand for it. She would reach her hand into the water, no matter how dark its depths, and she would find the treasure-shine of the woman who showed her a better way, and return it in kind. She had learned to touch the world softly, and now her calloused hand closed tenderly over Zoey’s, and she let herself ache for them all. 

“Would you not?”

Zoey stilled, swallowed, unprepared to be witnessed quite so keenly. She watched the woman carefully, anticipatory, but Rumi merely stood patient, open, warm. A gentle breeze ruffled the hair that had escaped her braid during the day’s labor.

Quietly, Zoey admitted, “as long as it takes, were I you.”

Rumi smiled in gentle understanding. “Then we are agreed.”

Zoey looked at her in hopeful confusion. “We are?”

“I shall not deny Mira any happiness she can find. Some questions may have more than a single answer, do they not?”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

They were sat at the shore, watching the sunset, with Mira braiding Rumi’s hair and Rumi watching her reflection work with barely contained fondness, when Zoey finally graced the both of them with her presence. 

She emerged from below, grin shining pale and mischievous, as she burst through the water by Rumi’s feet. Mira startled, pulling Rumi’s hair ungently, while Rumi merely huffed in amusement. “You are trouble.”

“Zoey, must you take such risks?” chided Mira.

Zoey’s grin did not waver. “I was blinded by the majesty of Rumi’s form, do not worry!”

Rumi’s breath stuttered in surprise, and her cheeks flooded with warmth. Their agreement had seemingly restored Zoey’s spirit twice over.

“You have met?” questioned Mira warily.

“Thrice,” mumbled Rumi, feeling vindictive about Zoey toying with her so. “I suspected you had talked, with how Zoey fawned over you.”

“I did not fawn!” protested Zoey in immediate embarrassment as Mira’s hands stilled momentarily in that way she did when she was surprised and uncertain. “I merely shared reality with you. And I am an avid patron of the arts!”

“And possibly the most bewildering creature I have ever met,” added Rumi.

Zoey narrowed her eyes. “You have gods as your cousins and siblings.”

“You are a god.”

“A minor one!”

Rumi huffed, triumphant. “I stand by what I said.”

“You seem well-acquainted for only three meetings,” said Mira softly. 

Rumi’s hand wrapped soothingly around her ankle, head turning just so to indicate she was no longer addressing Zoey. “I owe her my life as much as you, do I not?”

Startled, Mira halted her braiding altogether. “You know?”

“I told her,” volunteered Zoey as she leaned back and let herself bob on the waves, eyes firmly kept to the sky, hair a sprawl of black flame. “She asked many questions. I had to answer some, before she decided to smite me for being a thorn in her side.”

“I do not smite people,” protested Rumi under her breath, toeing a ridge of rock at her feet.

Zoey’s grin was sharp and immediate. “Have you ever tried?”

Rumi’s eyes wandered away bashfully. “...Yes.”

Mira, amused, began braiding once more. Her voice was a low note Rumi felt shiver in her chest. “Who?”

“Gwi-Ma,” grated Rumi, her shame and hatred plain.

“Your king?” scoffed Mira, tugging harshly at her hair in deliberate reproof. “The same king whom you promised my death?”

“I…” Rumi chewed on the bitterness the memories conjured. Her reasons had been worthy, but the price she’d been willing to pay for it far too high. “He held my mother prisoner.”

“Does he live near the sea?” said Zoey dangerously, suddenly producing several sharply-spiked sea urchins from her robes that Rumi knew to be venomous. “And does he watch where he steps?”

Rumi smiled wanly. “Not near enough for the kind of violence you’ve in mind.”

“Why do we not give him what he wants?” said Mira, something new and brazen in her voice.

Rumi immediately froze. “What are you saying?”

“Bring me to him, and the face of Medusa shall be the last thing he’ll see.”

“You would kill for me a king?” asked Rumi, breathless. “You would brave for me the sea?”

She could see Mira’s reflection straighten with pride, her wreath of snakes writhing. “He has sent you to your death so he could have your mother without challenge. I will gladly send men like him to Hades.”

“You are a marvel,” grinned Zoey, eyes burning with something cold and dark and entirely too thrilling.

Rumi started her search for trees with which to build a boat the very next day.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Zoey returned nearly every evening, around sunset. Even though she and Rumi had not found a moment to speak more in private, it did not seem they needed to. Something peculiar was growing between them, it was plain. Neither were particularly familiar with the intricacies of friendship, and their understanding teetered somewhere between cordial duel and fond fellowship. Where it would eventually fall, neither of them knew, but they knew in their hearts that whatever should happen, it would not end in bloodshed.

It was unspoken yet clear that Mira’s hand would always be her own to give, should she so desire. And perhaps, in moments where Rumi and Zoey aligned like wind and rain, both shared the same notion: she had two, did she not?

“I have found you can see her better if you watch her reflection like this, see?” Zoey pulled Rumi’s face into a new position. “You need to consider the angle.”

“I cannot calm the water as you do,” smiled Rumi despite her exasperation.

“Then use your sword,” said Zoey, after which a wicked smile grew. “ Or do you not polish it?”

Rumi’s eyes narrowed. “I do not have a sword.”

“A shame,” grinned Zoey innocently. Rumi suppressed the desire to push the infuriating woman off her perch and into the sea. It would do no harm while imparting on her the exact level of her ire. But Mira watched them, from a little further up, and it would not do to appear a child in her eyes.

“I would much rather you both cover your eyes. You are taking risks too eagerly!” called Mira.

Zoey immediately preened at the attention. “I would rather look upon you in any way I could.” Zoey smiled pointedly as she positioned herself alluringly, seemingly in jest. “To do otherwise would feel a tragedy to me.”

Not monster enough not to be capable of blushing, it seemed. That silence could only mean one thing. The snort that escaped Rumi was not only skepticism, but surprise at her own reaction. For a moment, when Zoey’s eyes had flicked her way, likely due to not being able to look upon Mira, something within her had kindled. 

“You were changed to frighten men to stone, yet I am capable of seeing your reflection without fear in my heart,” breathed Zoey, painfully sincere now. “Would it be so strange to think myself capable of seeing you with a warm heart, and survive?”

“Do not attempt it.” Mira’s words were thick with emotion. If it was not Zoey who feared, it would be her.

“I shall not,” said Zoey solemnly, then smiled her secret smile, eyes aglitter when sliding back to Rumi. “Today.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Rumi spent most of her days building the boat on the beach. She would chop the trees in the morning, carry the wood over, and then spend the afternoon carving the wood into its desired shape. She would have to make do without metal rivets and fastenings, but at least she could pry nails from the detritus Mira had collected over the years. 

Rumi felt eyes on her, often. Sometimes cautious ones, just before a voice called out, and she would smile and close her eyes and let herself be guided into whatever care Mira would give her. Often supplying her with wine and water and figs so honey-sweet they melted on her tongue. 

Sometimes from the sea, dark and intrigued, disappearing playfully and reappearing somewhere else. Elusive, but intent. She would wave, collect pretty shells, and rocks that glittered darkly in the water, reminiscent of her eyes, to give to Zoey later.

Sometimes from the forest, strange and unfathomable, and she would look up to see the deer with the clouded eyes stand at its edge, still and silent. She would wonder who or what stood vigil, and she would wonder at their intent. But then it would turn and glide into the shade noiselessly, and left Rumi wondering how it knew where to step.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

He came to her in her dreams. A voice like waves crashing against rock, eyes like depths that had never seen warmth nor light from the sun. He promised her riches beyond imagining. A hero’s life. Her name on the lips of every Attican. “All that is required,” his words seeped into her mind, murky and cold and earth-shaking, “is to bring me the head of the one that defied me.”

That day she woke, and she found Mira, and she tied the blindfold more tightly than ever. 

She did not go looking for her sword.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Days passed swiftly. They spoke of small things. Little pieces of their lives that mattered beyond their moments. A fishing trip assembled from a patchwork of repetitive memories. A craft finished with pride, eventually lost. Views that had stolen breaths, accidents that had done the same, and the things that gave it back again. Soft moments with loved ones, the almost-had-beens. Prayers answered, recoveries from failures, regrets weak enough to be fond, and some strong enough to sting despite dismissive laughter. 

They would speak until Mira’s throat grew sore, unused to so much conversation, and then she was simply content to listen. Sometimes her crown of serpents spoke for her, hissing and recoiling with her anger, reaching in their affection. Even though they could not clearly see her face, they found ways to read her all the same. Through her hands and her breath and whichever task she’d occupied herself with.

Rumi longed for home, but the presence of the two women were balm to that wound. Still, she wondered what would happen once their journey together ended. Would their forged bonds prove to be bronze or brittle? Would she one day be forced to choose between the pieces of her heart that belonged to different people and different places?

She found herself praying that day would never come, to whomever would listen.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

His visits were frequent now. He would flood her mind with his presence and fill her lungs with brine and leave her choking as his voice beat upon her wave after wave after wave. She could not speak, only tasting salt and metal. His promises gradually morphed into threats. “She will not defy me twice.” Crashed upon her. “And you shall not defy me once, niece.”

The water would show her things, horrors in the foam and delights in the caustics. She would see the harbor of Seriphos swept away, her family drowned and dragged into the depths. She would see herself feast at Gwi-Ma’s table, Mi-Yeong dressed in finery as she made him choke on poison. She would see a house lived in by three women, somewhere tall, drenched in golden light, with a beautiful garden. She would see herself fight unspeakable things rising from the depths, and find her strength fail her as her two companions died before her.

She would wake with Poseidon and Hypnos’ names on her lips like curses, and refused the lure of sleep more and more.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Mira was patrolling the bounds of her island, a habit borne of necessity. Should there be traces of others, the lost or curious, action would be required. Either she managed to chase them away before they inevitably laid eyes on her, or… Well, she would not need to drag another statue from her home lest her doorways became impassable.

This time, with Rumi at her service, the task was less of an ordeal, with each responsible for only half the coastline.

It was not the remains of a fire or the curve of a hull that caught her eyes on one of the smaller beaches leading into the soft curl of grassy hills. It was movement, small, repetitive, desperate. A creature, upended and flailing weakly in the sand.

Instantly she averted her gaze. It either had not seen her, or it could not from this angle. For a moment she stood stiffly, uncertain. In the past, she had had two choices. Leave it be and hope whatever was wrong could be resolved by itself, or risk its petrification in her attempt to help. She clenched her fists, and took a deep breath. 

She had another choice, now.

She walked deeper into the hills, out of sight of whatever creature was in distress, and then cut towards Rumi’s designated side of the island.

Over time she slowed, growing more uncertain about risking Rumi’s life with her spontaneous approach. So she began to sing a hymn of prayer, eyes only where she stepped, following the coast in a half circle to meet Rumi.

It was not long before another voice joined hers, slowly growing closer.

“Remain where you are. Cover your eyes,” called Mira once she could make out the words Rumi sang in reply.

There was no pause in the response. “You are safe to approach.” 

Mira found Rumi seated upon a fallen trunk, cloth already tied around her eyes, humming with a gentle smile.

“Did you find something?” She asked after Mira’s foot cracked a nearby twig.

“Aye.” Mira took Rumi’s hand, who no longer flinched at her unseen touch, and guided her off the tree. Then she pulled her along. “I found a creature in need of aid. But I cannot provide it without risking its safety. Most others I have tried to save, they…”

“I understand.”

They had only walked briefly when a laugh sounded behind her, and Rumi tugged at her hand.

“What is it?” asked Mira, resisting the urge to cast a look behind her.

“If you do not mind, I would prefer to walk ahead of you, lest I die by root or rock,” said Rumi, laughter lingering in her voice, as she struggled to blindly walk the uneven terrain.

“I-” Mira colored. “Of course. I apologize.”

They switched places, enabling Rumi to remove her blindfold, and with Mira’s guidance, they found the beach before the sun had passed its apex.

“I shall remain here. Call if you need aid.”

Rumi reached her hand back. Hesitantly, Mira folded hers into it. Rumi squeezed. “I admire your heart.”

Rumi departed, and left Mira staring after her feeling as if Rumi had raised a bow to her and shot an arrow straight through her chest. It was unfair for this daughter of a god to have hands built for holding sword and shield, protecting the weak by slaying the horrors of the world, and yet seem so content to tenderly hold a monster’s heart instead. A monster who was feeling dangerously more a woman every day, with two companions who, incomprehensibly, treated her as such.

Mira sank into the grass of the hill, closed her eyes, and felt the wind as a familiar, gentle caress as she waited.

On the beach lay a turtle, measuring in length about equal to half Rumi’s height, tangled into frayed netting, its belly exposed and defenseless. Its legs moved in sporadic bursts, tired of the struggle.

Rumi inspected the tangle. One of its flippers was raw and bloody, the rope pulled tight with its struggle over time. She carefully felt around its shell, and found a crack running jaggedly along the length of it. 

Rumi carefully hefted the ensnared beast onto her shoulder with a grunt. She would need a knife, and they would have to tend to its wound. She began the trek, the creature in her care making small noises and movements of panic and protest that she could not soothe. She wished she could tell it she was helping. This time it was her who began a song, bidding Mira to follow, and hoping it would provide some measure of comfort to them all.

At the temple, with a small knife Mira had provided, she began cutting the turtle loose, while Mira gathered materials for healing. Tying cloth around its head to block its sight, Rumi left tending to its foot to Mira.

“I do not know how to fix its shell,” mused Mira after they had finished. “I’m afraid any of our solutions will be worn away by the water.”

“We can inquire with Zoey, when she visits.”

Having done all that they could, Rumi built the turtle a small enclosure of rock around a shallow pool on their beach so it would not escape and hurt itself, and then they waited.

Zoey emerged from the sea when Helios’ light approached its edge, a pale-dark shape in a silent glide. It was a hippocampus that brought her to them, this time.

“It is to your benefit that Mira cannot see you at this moment.” Rumi eyed the strange creature. Mira often chose to wait in the temple, afraid Zoey would see her during the approach. They would then call for her once Zoey had arrived, and turn east as they waited. This time, Rumi did not yet call.

“He was the first who answered me,” smiled Zoey apologetically. “This one is not directly in his care.”

“It would not matter.” 

“No. I imagine it would not.” Zoey turned to stroke the horse’s snout. “Thank you, my friend. It is best if you do not remain near this island.” 

It whinnied, and left without protest, tail swishing gently as it cut the water.

“Something is the matter,” observed Zoey, and Rumi nodded.

“I will show you.”

At the sight of the turtle and the state of its shell, Zoey gasped and hurried towards it. “Oh, heavens!” She cried. “How did this happen? Was it Hermes? Did he find out what I did and enact revenge?”

“Hermes?”

“Your brother, the tortoise-killer,” said Zoey sourly as she knelt and gently inspected its shell. “Anything with a shell is in danger with him.”

“I do not know him by that reputation. And what have you done to provoke him?”

“Why,” grinned Zoey up at her, “steal you, of course.”

Hermes had been Rumi’s guide for much of the journey. They had lost each other in the storm. She had thought it mere coincidence at the time. Rumi cleared her throat in embarrassment. “Likely he thought me a failure at controlling my new sandals of flight. Which would be a reasonable assumption.”

Zoey’s grin only grew. “A daughter of Zeus, ill at ease in the sky?”

“Hush,” said Rumi, kneeling at Zoey’s side. “Focus on our charge. Mira found it stranded. It was tangled in a net. Its leg is hurt, as well.”

“You have bound it,” breathed Zoey in wonder.

“Aye. Well,” Rumi rubbed her neck, growing flustered at Zoey’s intensity. “Mira is the healer. I merely carried it here and untangled it.”

Zoey’s eyes slid over her, something within them glistening. “You carried it?”

“It was on the north-east side of the island. All our tools were here.”

Zoey hummed, something strange and hungry passing over her face, before she was smiling once more. “That was kind of you. Both of you. I can…” She caressed its dark carapace, and it turned its eyes to her, entirely docile. Its beak opened a few times, as if it was communicating its displeasure. “Yes, he is within my domain, terribly wayward. All he desires is to rejoin his fellow loggerheads. I shall arrange his safe return. Where is Mira?”

“Waiting inside, so the creature does not have to be blindfolded. It was scared.” 

“She must witness this,” insisted Zoey.

Rumi nodded. “I will ask.”

It took little effort to coax Mira outside, and when they reached the shore, Zoey had moved the turtle into the shallows, lightly pressing a hand against it.

“He cannot see you,” said Zoey once they arrived, keeping her eyes on her charge. “You may watch without fear.”

She traced a finger along the seam of where the shell was cracked, and it sealed at her touch. Only a shimmer of pearlescence remained where the wound had been. She unwound the splint from its flipper, and where it had been bloody and raw, it was now scarred over with the same pearlescent shine. Then, gently, Zoey released the turtle, and it happily sped off. “He will find his way back unharmed. I have made it so.”

She walked blindly backwards, and then her hand found Rumi’s, and her other Mira’s. Their skin tingled at her touch, as if some of the magic of it lingered. “You have saved a life today, unasked,” said Zoey, oddly solemn. “It will not be forgotten.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

“I think she will let us answer her question,” told Rumi to Zoey one day, before Mira had joined them.

“Us?”

Rumi nodded, taking Zoey’s hand. “I do not think she would deny either of us. She will try, but, it would be because it is her, and she believes the answer to her question should be a no. I do not know what it will look like, but I find myself increasingly having trouble restraining my heart around her.”

“I do, as well,” agreed Zoey softly. “But… it is you she has spent most of her time with. And you with her. There is no place for me in this, not really. She will never be able to look upon me and not think of… him.”

“She sees you, I know it,” said Rumi warmly. Then, with uncharacteristic timidity, she pulled Zoey closer. “And I… I think it is not only Mira whose question has two answers.”

Zoey stared up at Rumi, daughter of mortals, the only woman who she had deemed worthy of Mira’s hand could it not be her, and began crying. “Will I ever share the road I walk with another?”

And to the question Zoey had been asking herself for the entirety of her existence, Rumi answered simply, “yes.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

One evening Rumi appeared at the temple, freshly clean despite a hard day’s work, flowers and pearls woven into her braid. She took Mira’s hand to lead her into the forest.

Mira had not realized how much trust had built between them, until she let herself be the one who was led. Still, she could not resist an inquiry. “Where are we going?” 

“You know this island by heart, do you not?” There was something amused in Rumi’s tone, something anticipatory.

“I suppose I asked the wrong question,” said Mira carefully. “What is your intent with me?”

Rumi did not look back, she couldn't, but Mira saw her smile regardless. “I wish to give you a reminder of the beauty around you.” 

All Mira could hear was the rustle of leaves in the wind. No birdsong, no critters, no sentient life. Where was the beauty in that?

They entered a meadow, and her breath caught. Of course, the season had been shifting. A sea of wildflowers bloomed there, now, as it did every year. It had felt a mockery to her, in the past, and she had avoided it. But now…

A shimmer pulled her eyes to the small brook winding its way through. Zoey emerged from it, smoothing her glistening hair back, wearing robes woven of impossibly fine and pearlescent fabric, draped with colorful shells and pearls and other treasures she knew Rumi had found for her, and that secret smile aimed her way despite carefully downcast eyes. All water rapidly slid off her as if she was made of feathers, leaving her skin slightly more dull and the ends of her hair slowly curling.

Mira barely managed to speak. “You are comfortable on land?” 

“Of course.” Zoey approached slowly. “So long as water flows close.”

She took Mira’s other hand, and both led her to mats of woven grass, somewhat clumsily made, upon which rested a cornucopia of foods, decorated with colorful shells and stones and flowers. All of it bathed in dappled, golden light.

They sat her down, and proceeded to both tie cloth around their eyes.

“You will have to help us pick our food,” grinned Rumi. “Or this will quickly become a battlefield.”

“You will not be able to see any of your work, or the meadow,” protested Mira breathlessly, letting herself look at the women before her now that they were protected from her gaze. There would be no jewel in the earth that could match their luster, no star that could outshine them, no sunrise more welcome, no flower more comely.

“We know what it looks like,” said Zoey. “It is for you.”

“We need not a reminder of what beauty walks this world.” Rumi’s hand found Mira’s. “Even if all we can see is its reflection.”

Then, together, as if practiced, they grasped for a necklace that had been laid among the decorations, and held it before her, eyes still averted. It was a pretty thing, a collection of trinkets much like Zoey’s, except this one had small wood-carvings of animals interspersed between the pearlescent shells and metal ornaments, and flowers woven around the chain.

Mira stared at it, uncomprehending, feeling embers flare to life in her breast.

“It is a gift,” said Rumi, sounding somewhat apprehensive. “Should you ever feel alone, when we are not close.”

“You’ll have to forgive the poor craftsmanship,” said Zoey with mirth. “Rumi only just learned how to carve wood into recognizable shapes.”

Instead of the frustration Mira had expected, Rumi merely chuckled fondly. “Aye, it’s true. They are crude, but the effort was well-meant. Zoey was of little help with recalling the exact shapes of any animal.”

“Land animals, I ensured your tortoise was decent,” scoffed Zoey, tolerating no slander. “I am naturally inclined towards creatures of the sea. I carved little fish into the shells, see?”

Carefully, Mira took the necklace, cradling it before her. “You crafted this for me?”

She saw then woven into the necklace a familiar pearl, patterned with scars that resembled so much the lightning within Rumi’s skin, and that black jagged rock with a core of glittering rose that conjured bittersweet memories of another life and an innocence lost. Beside them rested another small rock, ordinary, clearly cleft from a larger whole. But when she turned it, ordinary became a galaxy of stars, mirror-smooth, only visible because the rock had been broken. 

Zoey folded her hands in her lap, head tilted towards her ever-dancing fingers. “We’ve seen how loneliness haunts you. Even when our absences are brief. We hope that, if you carry something with you that is ours, it might remind you that even if we’re not there, we are with you in every way we can be, and we will always find you again.”

“The flowers will not wilt so long as we wish to find our way back to you.” Rumi closed Mira’s hand over the necklace, and pressed it warmly against Mira’s sternum. “They are the first ones that bloomed for me. Because of you.”

Zoey brushed a brief touch across the skin and scale of Mira’s arm. “After we first spoke. I was…” She hesitated, cheeks aflush. “Inspired. And my memories of you brought me to find many treasures. They were always meant to be yours.”

“Why? Why do this for me?” Mira trembled, clutching the necklace close. They thought her in possession of beauty, of worth, but she knew she was not. She had lost it long ago, and now she was its absence. Not only her monstrous vessel, but the wasteland of her mind, the dark moods that sank her so deep she could imagine Kronos’ fetid breath wash over her. She could feel it pull at her, even now, despite the warmth of the golden light of Helios, despite being surrounded by the bounties of Chloris, and despite two faces turned to her, blinded but without fear.

Rumi’s hand skimmed up her arm and found its way to cup her jaw. Zoey crawled a little closer, hand leaning on her thigh as her breath ghosted her ear. “Because you deserve it.” 

“Because we want to,” added Rumi, stroking her thumb across her cheek.

Mira’s breath left her in a shudder. “I don’t understand.” She whispered, feeling like she stood at the precipice of a cliff. “I am a monster. Hideous to such an extent as to cast a fear in mortal hearts so great it sends their souls straight to hades. My existence is a graveyard, and my regard a ruin. You tempt death every moment you spend in my presence. I cannot be your destruction. I-”

“Mira.” Zoey tilted her head. “Do you not desire us?”

She was briefly thankful, for once, that she could not be seen, for her entire body matched the color of her snakes at once. It was unthinkable. To allow herself to desire. To be desired. By two women whose beauty and strength no poetry could ever do justice. “What good, this heart of stone, for it to be captured so easily?” 

“Not captured. Found,” smiled Zoey.

“Not captured. Held,” said Rumi.

Petrified, she brokenly breathed her last plea. “I will ruin you.”

Zoey’s hand squeezed her thigh, and with gentle pressure from Rumi’s thumb against her chin, her head was tilted back, eyes finding the hazy silhouette of a waxing moon. She closed her eyes to it, and found within her a surrender she had never known. She gasped when Zoey’s lips found her jaw. Then Rumi leaned closer, and whispered, “please,” before pressing their lips together.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

“You have denied me long enough, mortal.” He said in a dream darker and deeper than the others. She felt her lungs fill with water that tasted like blood. “I will darken your horizon and I shall have your heads.”

That day she woke, knelt at Mira’s feet, and asked for her sword.

And so Mira had Zoey retrieve it from the silt where it had been flung, and granted unto Rumi the sword that had been provided to kill her, trusting that the hands wielding it would have it serve as her protection instead.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Men arrived on several ships, weapons and armor gleaming, eyes watching them in the reflection of the metal. Five stood at the bow of one, eyes up, unafraid.  Rumi waited for them at the beach. Mira waited for them on the path to the temple. Zoey waited for them below.

The first of them to step into the water found the sand at the bottom treacherous and deep. They sunk into Zoey’s grasp with severed screams and hands thrust pleadingly at the sky. Others made the water of the bay churn red at the cut of many mouths of serrated teeth. And others still found themselves so tangled in seaweed and kelp to find their end slow and gasping, leaving nothing but a weakening churn of their waning struggles.

Those who remained, seeing the ocean betray them, urged their ships to charge straight onto the beach, and stepped directly onto land.

Rumi met them there, her curved sword, the Argon-slayer, swift and sure. She fought tirelessly, using the ichor in her veins to withstand many deadly blows and overwhelming numbers. Sometimes she would push an opponent into Zoey’s eagerly waiting arms, and they would not return. 

Those who managed to find a way past her were less fortunate than they had thought.

“Do not look west.” Mira had told them. Because she refused to wait in the temple once the battle commenced as they had asked. She descended from the hill, bearing the bronze spear and shield of Athena, with righteous fury. The few that did not petrify in terror found themselves skewered and bashed or fleeing back onto Rumi’s waiting sword.

Between the dark pull of the water, the harsh grasp of stone, and the swift cut of metal, many men died that day.

Only five remained, unaffected by Mira’s gaze, watching as the island drenched in red.

As one, they descended from their ship. Not like normal men, but floating gently, the water parting as they landed.

“They are not human! They are empty. You cannot frighten something without a soul!” called Zoey the moment their feet touched the murky sand of the bay.

Two pushed into the shallows, uncaring of the army of aggressive critters circling at their legs. Two more charged past Rumi, dodging her swipes like she was as dangerous as a newborn lamb, feral grins locked to Mira. And one approached Rumi, their leader, ambling, as if strolling through a fragrant garden. He cocked his head. “You are a child of Zeus? Pathetic.”

Rumi bared her teeth. “I will send you to Hades, demon.”

He descended upon her with teeth and claws, savage as a starving wolf, eyes glowing with unnatural light. These were mortal vessels who had drunk the ichor of the gods, then. Likely Poseidon’s. And were slowly burning from the inside out. Their remaining life would burn bright, and then turn to ash. Regardless, Hades would welcome them soon.

They had nothing to live for, and everything to die for. Devoted fanatics, desires twisted into near-tangible things by a cruel master. They fought ferociously, for service, for hate, for the desperate wish of a blessed death. 

There existed few opponents more dangerous than that.

But Rumi stood firm. Because she fought with faith. In herself, in her loves, in the righteousness of her cause. But most importantly, she fought with mercy. Where these men had only known a cruel touch of the divine, she would show them benevolence.

His cajoling, his screams, his cruel tricks, all of them went ignored. Her sword rang with each blow, and her aim stayed true. Small cuts, but many, wore him down over time.

She caught glimpses of Zoey, one of her opponents with his arm constrained in a shark’s maw, another one being wrestled down by water itself, and her, laughing, never before more dangerous or more beautiful.

She wished she could see Mira. But she could hear the scratch of claw against bronze, and the frustrated growls of opponents who could not find purchase.

 “I understand.” Whispered suddenly in her ear, and she whirled on the demon. How did he get behind her? He retreated with a smile that sent shivers down Rumi’s spine. “I understand wanting to look. To witness a woman who enchanted Poseidon himself.”

Rumi lashed out in anger, and the demon’s smile merely grew. “It is a shame what she has become, is it not? Such beauty. Wasted.”

“Cease your vile words, demon, or I shall cut out your tongue.” She growled.

“I am here at the command of a god. As are you. Only one of us is doing as requested.” He fully bared his predator teeth. “Do you think Athena will show you mercy once she finds you have not slain Medusa?”

“It does not matter.” Rumi took a deep breath, and found her calm again. She would not be lured into stupidity through the words of a sycophant. “One such as you cannot understand.”

He snarled in annoyance. “You are a fool if you think you can escape the gods’ judgement.”

Rumi smiled. “This world suffers many fools, but I am not one of them.”

She descended on him like a storm. He was fast, but she carried lightning in her veins, and her sword glowed with its power when she struck. He retreated, and she pressed forward. What smugness was left disappeared quickly, and his brows became furrowed with fear.

“You cannot defeat me!” He screeched, desperate. “The blood of Poseidon flows through me!”

“It does not flow,” said Rumi. “It devours. You are a corpse running from its fate.” Her eyes flashed with divine light. “Let me cut your final thread, demon.”

“Hades take you!” He raged, and leaped.

Straight onto Rumi’s lightning-quick blade.

It was with that mighty effort, as Rumi drove her sword into the demonic vessel and slayed it, that she turned with its momentum. Powerless to stop it, her eyes slid past the rock shore of the bay, past the sandy beach of their battle, past the road winding to the temple, and she looked west.

Mira was a fury, twirling her spear with an ease Rumi could only envy. She was snarling, teeth bared and snakes hissing at her two opponents, eyes glowing with eerie fire. They regarded her passively, fearless, dodging her attacks dispassionately. They circled like carrion birds, prodding at her defenses for an opening.

Rumi stared, frozen, lungs bellowing. She felt a breeze ruffle her hair, her heart beating frantically. 

Their eyes met, and Mira faltered. “No! Rumi, no!” She reached out, desperate. Rumi blinked.

Medusa. A monster with a face so terrible it scared all that saw it to death. Rumi felt herself fill with fear, felt her muscles tense and stiffen. Cold crawled up her hands and feet as the grasp of stone wound itself tightly around her. The ichor within her, weak and diluted as it was, stood no chance. Only a true god could look upon Mira and live. 

But her fear was not borne from Mira. She saw the wreath of snakes and the unnatural fire of her eyes and the animal violence of her, and all it inspired within her was a love so fierce it stormed and crackled within her. No her fear was borne from the glint of bared teeth and claws behind her, the instant knowledge that Mira was too distracted to see her own death approach.

“Mira!” She yelled, desperately, and whatever grip Mira’s curse had on her shattered as she stormed forward. She flipped the sword in her hand, holding it by the blade with no regard for its cut, and with two mighty steps, pulled her arm back, and sent it flying.

It grazed past Mira, her eyes wide with horror, and hit the demon in its chest, its claws only grazing Mira’s shoulder as it stumbled back with the impact.

Mira startled, twirled, and swiftly decapitated it with her spear. She stared at its crumpled form as it dissolved into ash, chest heaving, when Rumi reached her side.

“Mira?”

Mira looked at her, face twisting with desperate hope. “You can see me.”

“I can,” laughed Rumi, eyes flitting across every detail of her face, finally unmarred by the imperfections of a reflective surface. “I can.”

Mira cradled her face in wonder. “How?”

“Fight now!” Zoey looked at them both, fond exasperation on her face. “Lest we die by other means!”

Mira simply stood frozen at Zoey’s regard, cast her way with such cavalier disregard of the danger inherent it seemed almost… commonplace.

Rumi swiftly retrieved her sword from the ground and angled it towards the snarling demon still circling them.

That left three.

She moved herself protectively between Mira and it. For a brief moment, it seemed to hesitate. Then it charged, and she planted a foot on its torso and kicked it back. “Join Zoey,” she told Mira, “this one is mine.”

Mira grabbed her by the tunic and yanked her into a desperate kiss. “Come back to me.”

Struggling to tear her eyes away from Mira, the beauty that she was finally allowed to witness pure, she smiled confidently. “I will. Go.”

Mira rushed to Zoey’s side, and Rumi turned to the demon climbing back to its feet, shaking sand from its face. They circled each other like predators fighting over wounded prey, each building a measure of the other.

It struck first, quick and decisive. But Rumi was wind and light and whirled around him effortlessly. It chased her, and she lead it further and further back towards the water until the sand firmed beneath her feet. It snarled, and kept its distance, knowing that the moment it touched the water, it would be in Zoey’s domain.

The moment its hollow eyes slid towards her companions, Rumi charged. It dodged her sword, but not her arm, and they went down in a tangle. Sand sprayed as they wrestled, its unnatural strength more a match for Rumi than expected. When she attempted to disentangle herself and create distance, it dug its claws into her calf and held fast.

With a yell, she wrenched her sword between them, and cut deeply into its arm. It retreated with a hiss, and she swiftly climbed to her feet. It rose as if pulled up by invisible hands, the wound not dripping with blood, but something thicker, metallic, dissolving into ash before it could drip onto the sand. 

Ichor. 

“It is too late.” It smirked at her. “He is here.”

“Who-”

She felt it in her bones before she saw it. With dread squeezing her lungs, she turned to look east. 

A wave, tall as a mountain, roared its way towards their island. She swore she could see the shape of horses in the foam at its crest. The earth beneath them started to tremble.

“Poseidon.” The demon crowed, falling to his knees in worship. He opened his arms, as if readying for an embrace. “His judgement is final.”

“No,” breathed Rumi. She sprinted towards Mira and Zoey, who stood frozen. The demons they had been fighting in similar poses of awed prostration. The water in the bay started pulling back, as if bracing for what was coming, laying bare the maze of statues at its bed.

“You shall not take more than you already have.” She growled, standing before them, raising the shield Mira had abandoned. “Athena and Zeus be my witness. You. Shall not. Have them.”

Two hands gripped her shoulders, and her loves stood beside her, determined to face a god’s wrath head-on. 

“Death or Life. Together,” nodded Zoey grimly.

“If I die today, it shall not be alone,” said Mira, clutching her necklace. “And for that, I will always be grateful.”

The wave marched closer, its presence thundering and monstrous. It was futile, she knew, but Rumi dug in her heels regardless.

It bore down on them, descended like a mighty crash, when-

The sky behind them darkened with sickly yellow-purple clouds, conjured from nothing.

A figure, larger than life, rose from the muck. Helmet, shield, and spear gleaming, a divine mirror of what Mira had been only moments ago. Its spear cut swiftly and decisively, so violent it cut the air itself, and all sound disappeared. The wave separated, and both sides collapsed into a gentle flood that rushed by their shins. Mira froze with a shudder as the water touched her, and Zoey hurriedly took her hand and coaxed it away.

“Poseidon!” A voice like rolling thunder crashed across the sky. “You are bound by divine covenant!”

The giant woman. Athena. Planted her spear into the sea. “You trespass once again, uncle.”

Something angry churned in the water, and beside her Zoey grew pale.

“They are making a mockery of me!” Crashed and churned like a whirlpool full of rock and sand. It was impossible to tell the distance of the voice, so powerful was it. 

“You are making a mockery of us all, brother.” The shadow of a shape revealed itself by the flash of lightning, still obscured by clouds. “Leave this place.”

“You would destroy a temple of mine in your anger?” roared Athena, and whatever birds had remained nesting on the island fled in a flutter. “Is this petty revenge for Athens?”

“Speak not to me of childish revenge, dear niece.” Spoke the voice like a shipwreck. Rumi remembered her dreams of drowning vividly.

“You are to leave this island. It is under my care.” Athena stood firm.

“We will speak of this on Olympus, brother,” thundered Zeus. “Spilling your blood to create such a mockery of our divine gifts cannot go unpunished.”

Poseidon scoffed. “You are protecting your own progeny, nothing more.”

“Careful, brother,” rumbled Zeus.

Athena waded further into the sea, towards the source of that horrible voice, and thrust her hand into the depths.

“Ack! Unhand me, woman!”

“Lady Dice awaits you, uncle,” said Athena with a calm so frigid they could feel the temperature dip. She held within her grip a massive beard of churning foam. “And she is growing impatient.”

Zeus’s bitter laughter caused the sky to flash and a sudden rain to fall. “We will drag you there if need be, brother.”

“I shall obey you, my brother. My king,” spat Poseidon, the water growing foul and rotten at the poison behind his words. “For now.”

The world returning to something built for mortals happened so rapidly as to be nauseating. Rumi felt like she had been hit by that wave after all, and only now found the sand of a beach after tumbling without knowing what was up or down for hours. 

They stood, breathing heavy, in the calming shallows of the bay, with all signs of their battle swept away.

“Before you ask, no, I could not foresee this,” laughed Zoey in a shrill release of battle-tension.

“They are gods, only the fates may know,” said Rumi hoarsely, the air within her lungs feeling thick as smoke.

“How is it that you can see me?” Mira faced them, wide-eyed. “I- This cannot be!”

“It was an accident. I could feel the curse take me, but then…” Rumi looked upon her in wonder. “I saw what would happen to you, and nothing else mattered.”

“You knew.” Mira‘s eyes grew fevered as she reached for Zoey. “Somehow you knew.”

Zoey swallowed, and then took their hands. “I did. And I will explain. But we should ensure our safety first. Are you wounded?”

Miraculously, their cuts were shallow and their skin merely bruised. Few scars would prove the existence of this battle on this day, whereas it would sear itself into their minds like a brand. Thus Zoey brought an amphora of wine from one of her many secret stores in the sea, and they drank of it generously as they found themselves seated at the steps leading into the temple.

“Please,” said Mira, eyes nervously going back and forth between their faces, before they reflexively turned away again, “explain.”

“I have watched you for many seasons, Mira,” said Zoey, smile full of sorrowful regret. “Far longer than you have known of me. Ever since I found this island and your statues in the water.” She sighed, dreamily. “I had to know who could create such morbid beauty.”

“How?” Mira breathed. “What protects you from this curse?”

Zoey leaned her elbows a few steps above her, eyes lost in memory as she sipped of the wine. “I knew the tale of Medusa. I understood that looking at you would be my doom, but… When I first saw your reflection, I saw no monster. I saw a woman scorned, lonely, spiteful, and breath-taking. Athena herself must have been full of envy even when you worshipped her.

“I had to see you. And so I did. And I loved you then, as I do now. I have always seen you as you are, and loved you true. So I knew, once Rumi began to see you, to love you as well, she would be safe from your curse. For it is those who look upon you without fear in their hearts, who will see you as you are.”

Mira began to shudder and gasp, grief and elation warring within her. Perhaps it was less of a curse than she thought. Perhaps it allowed those who would look upon her with love and kindness in their heart to be near her without danger. Oh, how bittersweet this knowledge now, after so long alone. Yet here and now, she had two women watching her with love, and she found herself richer than Hades with all his earthly bounties. “Why did you not approach me, before? Did you think yourself unworthy?”

Zoey laughed bitterly. “I am a daughter of the ocean. I might not be his, but I am of his domain. I was not certain you would not kill me on sight. I thought I would merely be a reminder of what you had lost.”

“And yet you approached, with Rumi.”

“She was both excuse and catalyst.” Zoey nervously toyed with the trinkets adorning her, gaze elusive. “If you would not look upon me with favor, then perhaps I could still gift you a full life. I could have you find someone with a gentle and patient heart, someone who would listen and learn you in my stead. It was that desire that made me find my way to Rumi.”

Rumi nodded in gentle understanding, finishing the mental mosaic of Zoey that she had been assembling over time, quietly adding, “and then you steered the forces necessary to bring us together.”

Shoulders crawling up in shame, Zoey nodded. “Yes.”

“Why did you not tell us that you could see her? That you knew it was possible?” Rumi asked.

Zoey regarded her somewhat bitterly. “Without fear does not mean with love.”

“You mean… You thought I could make myself hate her enough to…?” She could not say the words, as they were laden heavy with truth. Had she known Mira to be Medusa before she had won her trust and gratitude, this would have become a myth about an entirely different kind of hero.

“You needed to understand the woman, before you could see her. That is not something I could have taught. It was something you had to choose to learn. I merely encouraged. And prayed. I knew that if I told you it was possible before you were ready, you could become reckless with hope… or pride.”

“Surely I would not be so foolish,” protested Rumi, growing cold at the thought.

“You forget I catch glimpses of the fates’ weave, so I may know where it wants to lead,” said Zoey grimly, “and thus sometimes where a thread may end.”

“Then we are both fortunate for your generous heart.” Rumi took her hand, and in an attempt at cheer, laughed. “I may yet learn restraint and wisdom in this life, because of you.”

Zoey’s answering giggle was everything she had wished for.

“I wish you had told me earlier,” sighed Mira wistfully. “I cannot help but mourn what we could have shared. I thought you so reckless, it was an assault on my poor heart each time I perceived you acting irreverent of the danger of my curse. Now I know you were never at risk. I feared for nothing!” She laughed. “What a nuisance I must have been!”

“You thought you were protecting me. And you were protecting Rumi.” Zoey kissed her hand. “It was a noble effort, and well-meant, and it never bothered me. In fact I was worried you might be cross with me, once you knew.”

“Perhaps I am a little,” smiled Mira fondly. “But I find I mostly am grateful that we are here now, hale and together.”

“Aye,” breathed Zoey in relief.

“Aye,” nodded Rumi firmly. “Yet… I cannot help but wonder. Would it truly have gone sour, even if you are a daughter of the ocean, had you introduced yourself to Mira without me?”

“I cannot see my way the way I see those of others,” smiled Zoey ruefully. “That would be too easy, no? What I knew was that her spear was as sharp as her gaze. I feared its sting. And that she would not have trusted me.”

Mira knew that to be true. “I would not have. I would have thought her a trick. I still thought as such, when she first came to me with you.”

“Why did you accept, then?” frowned Rumi.

Mira thought for a moment. “I… truly cannot say. I knew the risk, I knew I needed to kill you. I think I simply… tired of fostering graves.” 

Zoey regarded her pithily. It remained unspoken, yet tangibly between them thrummed the understanding that at that time, Mira might have welcomed either outcome of the rescue. Although, Zoey had been surprised and delighted to find Rumi’s sword cast into the silt that very night.

“You can see me.” Mira spoke it with reverence as she touched their necklace, and her smile shone like the sun. “You can see me and I won’t do you harm.” She reached for them, then, and they let themselves be guided closer. 

She kissed Zoey. “If I had still been a priestess, and I still trusted like I used to, I would have returned your affections the instant you entered my bay, never doubt that. It does not matter to me that the sea is your home, in another world it might’ve been mine as well. I could never hate what is a part of you.” 

Then she kissed Rumi. “Zeus is unworthy of you, my love. You are more than a hero, you are gentle and kind and generous and brave enough to know softness. I hope one day to meet the people who have raised you, and have them understand how much of a wonder you are.”

“We have found a way together,” said Zoey. “It was more than I could have dreamed when I first saw you. I thought myself doomed to be bereft of your affection, even your notice. I would have gladly been cast into stone in that barren future, had it only meant you had witnessed me a single instance. And then Rumi took my hand, and showed me that some roads can be shared, and that one did not need to be a god to build something beautiful. Now I am glad to show you how the sea should love. Wild and gentle and eternal.”

“I will never let you go,” said Rumi. “I have been far west and far north beyond the winds to find you. I found the Oracle in Delphi and I was told to find the people who made bread without grain. I found them in Dodona and listened to the whispers in the trees. I found the Graeae and stole from them their eye and had them tell me of your island. I came here to slay a monster and found none. Instead I found myself a twice-target of Eros, and full of a strength that I knew not I was lacking. I am no longer lightning only, but the rains that nourish the earth, and the winds that carry you home.”

“Is it not always in myth that there are women three?” questioned Mira with fond mirth.

“It shall not be me to defy tradition,” shrugged Rumi coyly.

“Nor I,” grinned Zoey.

“Then judgement has been cast. We shall remain as three.” And then Mira smiled, soft, open, unrestrained, settling into a kind, unyielding peace. “I would not have it any other way.”

…

“Was the eye big and juicy?” Zoey’s eyes glittered.

Rumi shuddered. “Horribly so.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Before they set sail, Rumi climbed to the highest point of the island, and prayed.

“I have asked nothing of you, father, but your benevolent regard. If you hold any affection for Mi-Yeong in your heart, if you wish her to be free of the cruelty of another man seeking to control her, please bless our journey as you have before, when we were cast out by my grandfather. Poseidon seeks to destroy my love, and I shall surely be destroyed with her. Let us arrive safely to Seriphos, dispose of the tyrant-king Gwi-Ma in your name, and I shall build a temple in your honor to stand beside Athena’s.”

Mira held her tight as they left the bay, and laughed brightly when the waves remained calm, and a light, playful breeze pushed at their back.

“There is someone we should visit during our journey,” said Zoey, and looked at Mira. “He will be very glad to see you.”

“Do I know him?”

“No. His name is Atlas, and he tires of his burden.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

“Why do they not petrify?” asked Mira, brushing her hand through the playful tendril of fish that had followed their boat since the start of their journey.

“They are a gift from my father to me,” smiled Zoey adoringly, sweeping her hand through the water. “They love as I do. They know not fear in your regard.”

“That is why they were always safe.”

“Yes.” Zoey looked upon her seriously. “I would never have you harm a creature in ignorance. You shall always have a choice with me.”

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

When they arrived in Seriphos, Mira donned a cloak and mask to protect all those undeserving of her ire. The climb to Gwi-Ma’s palace would have strained them if not for the fury in their steps.

Gwi-Ma received Rumi and her retinue with sour surprise. His smile strained, but his arms bid them a warm welcome. Rumi could see her mother, cowed and thin, watching her from behind his throne in breathless relief. She did not smile at seeing the cost of her foolish absence. 

“You return to us! Are you… victorious?” Skepticism and fear war within Gwi-Ma’s grin.

“I have done as you asked. I have found and tamed the beast you call Medusa.”

Behind her, Zoey snorted.

“I bring her to you today. So that you will release my mother.”

“Do you have proof?”

“I do.” Rumi approached the throne, Mira and Zoey closely behind. “I request that everyone here avert their gaze.”

At the authority in her voice, they obeyed as one, and Mira’s hands rose to the hood of her cloak.

“What do you-” Gwi-Ma’s eyes widened, and moved to shield his eyes. “No! Guards, remove them at once!”

“Unfortunately,” grinned Zoey, “it seems that many of them failed to find their way here, today.”

Mira’s mask clattered to the ground, and the remaining guards who moved to heed their master swiftly stopped moving, their screams a fading echo in the grand hall.

Rumi climbed the steps to Gwi-Ma’s throne, and with an iron grip, tore his arms away from his face. “Look upon what you have wrought, tyrant king, and pray your soul is judged kindly when we send it to Hades.”

“No!” He protested, clawing at her arms. She wrapped one hand around his throat, and lifted him. His eyes flew open, bulging, as he gasped for air.

Mira stood, in defiant serenity, within his fearful regard. “It is a true monster,” she walked up the steps as he writhed in muted fear, “that does not think himself one,” she caressed his face as he stilled, “when none can look upon him without fear.”

Rumi released her grip, and relished as Gwi-Ma shattered upon his own gilded throne.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Without heirs, it is Gwi-Ma’s brother Bobby that ascended the throne. No longer suffering the rule of a proud fool, and with a Nereid’s blessing, the coastal kingdom of Seriphos flourished, and Rumi built Zeus a temple as she had promised, adding his blessing to the land.

Mi-Yeong was freed from her bonds. Returned to Celine and Bobby’s care, and now receiving the support of a daughter grown wiser by her travels, she began her own journey of healing.

At a house on the cliffs overlooking the sea, at the end of a path winding from Athena’s temple, love bloomed. People talked of blind animals, and a veiled woman, and the frequent visits of a figure that walked straight out of the sea and the adopted daughter of their benevolent king and queen. They were warned to stay away, for their newfound fortune was fragile, and dared not defy the authority of those blessed by the gods. As they thought it an omen of better times, they would leave small offerings by an altar at the foot of the path. And each fortnight they would be gone, in their place a small carving, rough but made by loving hands.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

Rumi climbed the winding path up the cliffs near Athena’s temple slowly. She had laid the last stone of Zeus’ temple today, and the opening ceremony would demand her presence tomorrow. But on her way she had accompanied her mother on a small errand, who had been strangely insistent. Now she smiled in anticipation of Mira’s reaction, patting the squirming little charge held carefully in the cloth slung across her shoulders.

Her evening was, blessedly, free, and her feet had needed no urging to bring her to where her heart always lingered. A lone house overlooking the water, newly built, comfortable for three. A small place carved for themselves into a world that might not understand or look upon them kindly. Its distance from the port protection for each side.

She found Mira in the garden, tending the flowers they had brought from the meadow, necklace glinting in the golden evening light. Her snakes hissed and curled in gleeful anticipation at her arrival, and she kissed each tenderly on its head, before carrying her love inside among half-hearted protests laced with laughter.

She found Zoey by the pond, sneakily slipping a glittering new fish among the collection already swirling within. Her reflection was seen before she managed to surprise her, and Zoey pulled her into the water with an elated shout. Thoroughly drenched, she carried a playfully wriggling Zoey inside to join Mira.

“I bring with me a most serious duty.”

Zoey’s eyebrows rose eagerly. “What is it?”

The moment Rumi extracted the mewling and pathetically sodden kitten, Mira looked away with a gasp.

“Don’t look away, my love.” Rumi guided her face back with a gentle touch at her jaw. “He is in no danger from you.”

She held the squirming thing up, showing its crooked eyes. “It was born blind. His owners knew not what to do with him, he would likely have been neglected and starved. It is fortunate my mother caught wind of it, and she thought of you.”

Mira cradled him with a sob. He fit into her palm, sniffing her curiously with clumsy movements. “He shall flourish with me, I swear it.”

“He will want for nothing, in our house.” Zoey cooed at him. 

They had prepared for Rumi a feast large enough to sate a daughter of Zeus after a long day of hard work, and now partitioned a small tribute to their new charge. 

And then, once all were sated, and the kitten lay slumbering in the waning light of Helios, they indulged in another kind of feast that set Rumi happily to work again.

ꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙꡙ

In time, more people would begin to visit. Mi-Yeong, Celine and Bobby, all those who chose to love another despite the risk, and eventually learned to see the woman behind the veil of horrors done unto her, the one so adored by their daughter.

For many years peace reigned. The kingdom was rarely harassed by pirates and mercenaries, and whatever armies thought to invade never seemed to make it to their borders in great numbers. Some attributed it to their land being twice-blessed, once by Athena, and now by Zeus, others to the wisdom of their rulers.

Seemingly unrelated, statues began to appear. Some by the temples, some at Bobby’s court, some decorating the public squares and gardens. Nearly all statues were of warriors, many wearing exotic or barbaric livery. But two at the center, simpler ones, the carve of hammer and chisel lovingly apparent, depicted two women entwined, each with pearls at their brow, watching over the bay, hands patiently outstretched towards something unseen.

ꡙꡙꡙ   Τέλος  ꡙꡙꡙ

ⅠⅠⅠ - Bonus Tomfoolery

One day, Rumi found herself seated on the roof of Zeus’s temple, overlooking the town, Zoey at her side.

“Do you think he minds?”

“Zeus?”

“Yes.”

“He has not punished me yet.” She shrugged.

Zoey handed her a shell. She threw it towards the sea. It sailed far, further than it could have had she a mortal’s strength.

“You can do better.”

Zoey handed her a pretty rock.

She threw it. It flew as far as the lighthouse.

“Even better.”

Zoey handed her a slightly heftier rock. Rumi did not question where it was kept.

She threw it far. It arced gracefully. Then, an errant gust of wind pushed it off-course, and instead of the sea, it fell towards the harbor, where the ships lay moored. It disappeared from view.

Rumi winced.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Zoey patted her, grimacing. “But perhaps we should do this somewhere safer, in the future.”

“Good idea.”

Akrisios, having been invited to visit by Mi-Yeong after many assurances his grand-daughter meant him no harm, arrived at the port of Seriphos after a long, arduous journey at sea. And promptly gets hit in the head with a rock and dies.