Within the Earth Goddess's Temple, deep in the heart of Mount Parnassus.
Reclining upon her stone throne, the Earth Mother gazed downward for a full quarter of an hour before finally closing her eyes with a sigh.
"I never imagined, child, that you would truly gain recognition from the authority of the Earth Goddess. I should be glad for you. Yet some things are born as the root of misfortune—having them is not necessarily a blessing."
Medusa remained silent for a moment. From the corner of her eye, she glanced toward the figure by the courtyard pillar, then spoke with firm resolve.
"I have known despair. I have seen misfortune!"
From behind the pillar, Samael caught a trace of genuine feeling in Gaia's tone, and his eyes flickered.
At last, he began to understand why Gaia, the Earth Mother, had always treated Echidna, the Mother of Serpents who bore her bloodline, with such cold distance. That same aloofness had extended to Medusa when she first arrived.
It was the old truth: "A man without sin, yet condemned for his treasure."
The three great divine authorities—Sky, Ocean, and Abyss—had long been divided. The most ancient authority of the Earth, left unclaimed, had become a prize that every god hungered for.
Echidna, born of single-sex creation, carried an innate flaw. Even if Gaia had raised her to the seat of Earth Mother, it would only have hastened her death. By turning away, leaving her to grow unchecked in the Arima Caverns, Gaia had, in truth, been protecting her.
Thus, even when Medusa arrived, fully qualified to inherit the Earth Goddess's authority, Gaia had shown little warmth. Without the looming threat of Typhon, King of Demons, she might never have considered letting Medusa claim the full inheritance at all.
And even now, having given her the chance, Gaia likely did not wish for the girl to truly succeed. At best, she hoped Medusa might complete her immortality, endure a baptism, and gain enough power to defend herself.
After all, the authority of the Earth Goddess was a prize so enticing that even the future queen of heaven, Hera, the goddess of wisdom, Athena, and the goddess of love, Aphrodite, all fought for it. Without true strength, it was nothing but a death warrant.
Samael quietly lifted his gaze toward the glowing presence upon the throne, his eyes softening. Throughout Greek myth, this Earth Mother had shown a rare maternal compassion to nearly every child. That made her a worthy ally to draw close.
Yet the ancient serpent could not agree with her sigh over Medusa.
Avoiding conflict—did that truly mean safety? Hardly.
Echidna, the Mother of Serpents, had lived almost her entire life sequestered in the Cilician marshes. Wasn't that obedience enough?
And what became of her?
She was slain in her sleep by Argus Panoptes, the hundred-eyed giant.
That minor demigod, insignificant among the Olympians, would later be tasked with guarding Io, whom Zeus had transformed into a cow. And Io was Zeus's lover. For Argus to be entrusted with such a task, it could only have been under the orders of Hera—the Queen of Heaven, the destroyer of Zeus's lovers.
So Echidna's death at Argus's hands may well have been done at Hera's command.
Likewise, Medusa, who bore the right to inherit the Earth Mother's authority, was persecuted by the Olympian gods. And the one who slew her was Perseus, son of Zeus.
Therefore, whether they resisted or not, once they became a threat, escape was impossible.
Gaia cast a glance at the resolute young face below and chose to let the inevitable play out.
"Ah... pitiful children. You have done nothing wrong."
"Stay here for now. Until I fall into true slumber, I will do all I can to protect you."
Only as much as she could... Whether it had been Othrys in the past or Olympus now, those who held dominion over the heavens and the seas were not bound to listen.
The Earth Mother shook her head helplessly, overcome with a quiet sorrow.
Medusa thought back to the plan she and Samael had discussed that night. Lifting her head slightly, she spoke with solemn resolve.
"Mother Goddess, my Earth Goddess authority has already awakened. The instinct to create life is hard to suppress. That is why I wish to return to the Cilician Marshes first..."
Gaia considered her words, glanced at the barren, pitch-black cavern, then nodded lightly in assent.
The earth was the foundation of creation itself, a cornerstone of the Age of Gods. Since this child had now become the new Earth Mother Goddess, bringing forth life was her sacred duty.
"The Arima Cavern is far too barren. I still lack some materials..."
At that, Medusa faltered, awkward in her request. She was not the type to plead or act coy.
Still just a little girl, Gaia thought, amused by Medusa's embarrassed expression. A gentle smile curved her lips as she lifted her hand. The yellow-black soil that formed her very essence split apart, rolling into a swirling mass that floated toward the new inheritor of the Earth's will.
"Take it, child. This is the Primordial Soil of Life, best suited for creation. I look forward to seeing the works you will bring to this world."
Medusa received it carefully, bowed with respect, and smiled with genuine warmth.
"Thank you for your generosity, Mother Goddess..."
But just as the air grew harmonious, Samael stepped forward. As guardian, his brow furrowed, heavy with concern.
"Honored Mother of Earth, perhaps it would be better to keep Medusa here."
"If the gods take offense at her creations and punish her, she might still find refuge with you. But those innocent lives... they would suffer."
Gaia's eyes sharpened, hearing the hidden meaning, and she let out a cold snort.
"Any being born upon the earth in accordance with the laws of life will receive my blessing. The gods have no right to destroy them at will!"
The light and shadow surrounding the Earth Mother shattered. Surging Ether distorted the very space around them, and the rocks themselves twisted, their structure breaking and reforming.
"Besides, I am not dead yet!"
Samael struck his chest with his right fist, offering reverence to this Goddess of Beginning who radiated maternal compassion for all life.
"Thank you for your compassion!"
"Though it may be insignificant, please allow the newborn species to offer sacrifice—to you, to the gods, and in return to this world."
"Gratitude must be their first lesson!"
Gratitude... a virtue even the gods themselves rarely possessed.
Gaia faltered for a moment, her feelings a mix of complexity and relief, then nodded in assent.
With their purpose achieved, Samael rose and bowed in farewell to the Earth Mother.
"Mother Goddess, I wish to go as well."
As Samael and Medusa prepared to leave, Athena—who had been left behind—suddenly tightened her hold on Gaia's arm, her eyes shining with longing as she gave it a small shake.
"So, you can't bear to stay here any longer?"
Gaia sighed softly. In the five or six days together, she had grown fond of this clever girl.
"That's not it. Everyone has helped me so much. I only wish to be of help in return. If anyone interferes with creation, at least I can stand against them. And once it's done, I promise I'll come back to keep you company."
Athena blinked rapidly, her words full of earnest insistence.
"Very well, as you wish... But remember—should you find yourself in trouble, come to Mount Parnassus. Seek my aid."
Gaia laughed softly, shaking her head as she granted Athena's request, her tone carrying sincere warning.
Leaving the mountain's depths, Samael looked back at Mount Parnassus as it slowly closed, his heart surging with restless energy.
It was time to bring change to this dull world.
Right, Prometheus?
The ancient serpent gazed up at the rolling clouds and the twelve unlit pillars of Olympus, the corner of his mouth curling into a faint smile.