Athena's Child (The Grecian Women Trilogy)

by Hannah M. Lynn

Perhaps all monsters are born. Then again, perhaps it is just a way of hiding the darkness we all carry within us. A darkness we force ourselves to keep hidden from the world for we can barely imagine what terrible misdoings would occur if we were to let that darkness grow. Because the truth that we all know is this. Darkness grows.

This story, in many ways, would be easier if the darkness had been born in her that way. But it was not. She was not. Medusa grew from monsters, but she was not born of them.

These are not men. They are snakes, serpents trying to find the freshest eggs. And when they do find them, they crack them open, devour their insides, and leave nothing more than hollow shells.

Your decision was made before I stepped foot into this temple. All that awaits me is to hear it.’

These were not battles of blood, it is true, but they are battles. Battles that I have fought and won.’

Men didn’t need gods, Medusa mused, they just needed somebody, anybody, to guide them in their lives.

Women hold knives more often in the day than men ever do, yet it is not women who stab their husbands to death when they fear adultery.

Women use words and reason where men use fists and force. So why are we always second? Why is that my goddess? Why are we always second?’

‘Sometimes, the lines are blurred, Medusa.’ Athena rose up to standing. ‘Sometimes, it is difficult to see where your feet are planted when you are focusing so far out to the horizon. But we will not talk of this in here, in my place of peace. I will come to you again soon.’ She bowed and kissed Medusa on

When faced with a monster, who ever looked to see beyond the teeth and talons?

She did not worry herself to brush them aside. Tears were of little concern to one whose eternity had been shattered. Words had finished. There was nothing more to say.

‘You wish me to question those who never questioned me. Or you. Trust does not require answers, Perseus. Trust requires acceptance.’

‘Gods do not pay the price for their wrongdoings, Perseus. Mortals do. The gods, like the rich of the world, push their agendas onto those whose voices are not loud enough to speak for themselves. The women. The weak. The unwanted. And no one shouts for those who need it the most. Why would they? To shout for another is to risk losing something yourself. And man cannot see beyond the depth of his own reflection.’

‘Four people knew the actions of Poseidon and the Goddess. My parents, who both died under my gaze when I was unaware of its power, and my sisters, who were transformed into beasts more heinous than even myself for the act of daring to question Athena’s decision.’

Once, people came to me for help, for advice. Now, they come to make me a murderer time and time again.’

He realised then, alone in a crowded room, that to fulfil his promise to Medusa was to deny his loyalty to Athena, his sister, who had done all in her power to make him a hero. Telling Medusa’s story would make monsters of all the men that had gone before him and failed.

Meanwhile, Medusa’s truth was lost, and all that remained was the story of monsters and heroes, though the world would never truly know which was which.