Terror grips me nightly…

I wake up drenched with sweat, my lips often stifling a scream from clawing its way free. I am unmanned, a humiliation which has now cloaked me for years.

Once, I was near a demigod, a hero of nearly unmatched repute. All until I travelled to her cursed, mist-shrouded isle. I stepped onto the sand of her shores at the height of my power and fled a coward into darkened tempest. Still, for all the shame that shadows my heart, or fear that haunts my dreams, I cannot forget her eyes or the green glow of them. I cannot forget how over the tops of storm-tossed, blackened waves, those eyes froze me in place, and terrified as I was, her gaze held me in a space in time where the world fell away.

And in that moment, there was just her and I, floating in a lightning lit, storm-tossed sea. In that moment, I had the strangest feeling. One that I can’t explain to this day. But it wasn’t one of fear. Why then does she stalk my sleep with wicked persistence? Why is she always fangs and reptilian skin? Why never those eyes that softened for the briefest of moments in the glow of Zeus’s ire? I tell her story often now with the hope that I may come across one that could become the hero that I never was. One that could end her and still the darkness of my dreams. Could still her and her restless crown of serpents. Could still…Medusa.

–Tericus, he who was once great.

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