Thirty-Two

“It was another ordinary day on Olympus when Medusa arrived. Zeus was on his throne, giving orders to the other gods, laughing at the misfortunes of mortals he did not favor, singing the praises of women and girls whose forms pleased him. I tended the fire, only half-listening to his boasts and prattle, picturing the mortal women doing the same hard work of tending home and hearth below. Sometimes when I heard their prayers to me, I would shake my poker so sparks would fall upon them, lighting their dying fires and easing the difficult tasks that women have done since the beginning of time. But Zeus did not like me sharing the light of the world, so I could only help a few here and there and stopped up my ears to many prayers and entreaties.

“I knew what Zeus had done, how he had spread lies about Medusa. I am his oldest sibling—the first daughter of Cronus and Rhea. I spent the most time in my father’s belly and know the ancient trickery of the world. But some of the younger gods failed to see Zeus’s hand in the terrible tales being sung by the bards.

“On this particular day, Zeus was holding forth in his usual boorish fashion when Medusa burst into the throne room. This by itself caused Zeus a shock. He could not figure out how she had gotten past the Horae, who normally would have consulted with Zeus before allowing in a stranger. Later, he would learn that she had appealed to the eldest Horae, Dike, who is also the goddess of justice. Zeus would silence Dike for finding merit in Medusa’s argument that she deserved justice and should be admitted to Olympus. Ever since then, in solidarity with their mute sister, the other Horae do not speak.

“Medusa did not bow to Zeus. She stood before him, head held high, and accused Zeus of spreading lies about her. Zeus pretended he had done no such thing. He told her she had imagined this plot. This made her angry, and she raised her voice.

“‘Yours is a false strength!’ she shouted. ‘A power based on cruelty! And someday you will fall.’

“At this, the other gods fled the room, certain that Zeus was going to hurl a thunderbolt at her. No goddess—or even god—had ever dared speak to Zeus this way. But I had to tend the sacred fire, so I stayed put. I had become so small that Zeus neither noticed nor cared about my presence. He was too enraged. He grabbed a thunderbolt and shook it.

“‘Your anger makes a monster of you!’ he roared. ‘And that’s who you will become! From this moment forth, you will be transformed into a monster who turns men to stone, your powers will be weakened, and your voice will not work to tell your own tale. You will dwell in a cursed place where mortals fear to tread.’

“Before Medusa could fight back or even open her mouth to object, Zeus waved his hand and she vanished.”

“He’s the monster!” Ava said. “She told him the truth of who he was, so he silenced her! Just like Fia was silenced! Just like my mom.”

She looked to Hestia to share her outrage, but instead the goddess looked thoughtful.

“What?” Ava asked.

“At the exact same moment, I noticed something odd. A large fly had landed on Zeus’s quiver of thunderbolts. Zeus must have sensed it too, because he turned his gaze toward it. The next instant, he caught it in his fist and stormed out of the throne room. I—”

But before Hestia could continue, there was an ear-piercing screech and the doors to the throne room flew open.