Medusa walks sadly through the new island. How alone, broken and empty she felt. When she reached the middle of the island where lay a field of flowers, she collapsed on the ground and cried. Why were the gods so unfair to her? It wasn't her fault that Poseidon took advantage of her right in front of Athena's altar just to spite the goddess. She couldn't have fought him off, this god, for he was too strong. What could she have possibly done?
As punishment for a crime she unwillingly participated in, she was turned into a hideous gorgon. And because of this, she had lost everything. She lost her family, she lost her possessions, she lost her life, and she, who was once human, was now isolated from the rest of humanity. Her bitter tears fell down and turned into small, pearl-like stones as they hit the ground. How could the Fates be so cruel? What had she done in this life or the last that deserved such unforgiving destiny?
A rabbit strayed close to her, trying to console her in its own adorable way by nudging its damp nose to her hand. Medusa chuckled through her tears and scratched the little rabbit's head. But when the rabbit made eye contact with her, it froze and turned to stone. She gasped as she watched the transformation happen before her eyes for the first time. She couldn't believe what had happened but the event was clearly defined – she killed the poor creature who only sought to console her. Picking up the little statue and cradling it in her bosom, she wept harder. How could she be so cruel to the little creature? The knowledge that she didn't do it intentionally only fed the fires of guilt in her heart. Questions that had no answers plagued her mind.
And with the advent of her first kill, she saw a glimpse of Death's face.
888
Thanatos became a frequent visitor of that island. The story of a woman plagued with the curse of death, attracted men like moths to a flame. The more people heard of her unique curse, a curse that could be used as a precious weapon from the point of view of warriors and conquerors alike, the more men sought after her, braved her dangerous island only to never return. And the more Medusa killed, the more she was familiarized with Death's form. Thanatos was her only visitor unaffected by her abilities, the only being who actually visited her island regularly. So lonely was she that she began to look forward to his visits and, at one point, even prayed to the gods that the humans would come sooner and more often just so she could see him.
Thanatos had wanted to leave as soon as he extracted the hundredth soul from the petrified body, another victim of Medusa's, but after fetching the soul, he felt an urge to stay.
"I feel like I've been visiting this place more often than not," he started, awkwardly trying to make conversation with the woman sitting somberly on the rock, staring intently at him.
She hissed, "It's not my fault." Although she didn't want to sound that way, she couldn't help hissing. Her tongue was physically changed when she transformed. But Thanatos didn't mind. It was the brisk answer spoken in a small timid voice that he paid more attention to. It seemed like her social skills need polishing.
"I know it's not," he supplied kindly. He didn't know what drove him to talk with the woman but she seemed so alone and sad without any company that he tried his hand on making her an acquaintance. He knew he was inviting trouble but he was feeling a little impulsive at the time.
"I don't even have to make eye contact with them," Medusa groused. "They only have to look at me and they become statues by themselves. And then I see you soon afterwards."
Thanatos nodded. "They were fated to this end."
"Fates!" she scoffed. "It always comes back to the Fates. Why must the Fates use me as their tool to end the lives of these mortals?" Medusa's voice cracked with unspeakable sadness. She held back the sobs threatening to pour from her mouth. "My sins pile around me simply by existing!"
"Your existence is not sinful," Thanatos said frankly.
"I cannot do anything but kill," Medusa continued, the snakes on her hair writhing with her distress. "I was once a mortal priestess. I served the gods faithfully, dedicated my life to them, and drank the teaching of the temple like drought-ridden earth to rain. Yet here I am, suffering from the very hands which I revered."
She couldn't hold back anymore. Tears fell from her face and became little pebbles on the ground.
Thanatos stepped forward and patted her head like a child. He really didn't know what to say to comfort the woman. For a while, comfortable silence reigned between them, broken only by her ragged breathing. He searched himself for words that would suffice, words that stemmed from the wisdom of his long existence.
"Do not fret. Change is a constant in life. The essence of living is changing. I am death and thus cannot change but you are mortal, no matter how you may see yourself. You can expect change."
Medusa looked up and stared Death straight in the eye, into its dark, fathomless depths. They held a frightening finality yet seemed so peaceful and silent. "I cannot bear to live anymore waiting for this change to come. Will you take me with you now?"
Thanatos shook his head, "Now is not your time." And then he was gone.
888
Medusa continued killing. And every time she killed, Thanatos would appear and hold a small chat with her before he continues on his way. It became a routine of sorts as she grew accustomed to his presence. She both dreaded and anticipated Death's arrival. She was caught between a rock and a hard place. Now she prayed that the mortals would arrive just so she can have a small conversation with another being other than herself but immediately berate herself afterwards for wishing so. How could she have willingly wished death on mortals?
Thanatos, on the other hand, continued offering his company. He had some inkling that his presence was encouraging some kind of deviant thoughts in her, it was evident in her eyes, but at least she did not actively seek out a village to slaughter just to meet him. But who was he to judge behavior? He was not as wise or as just as his master. He should not have an opinion about life or how one should live one's life. He simply took life and brought an end to it. That was the purpose given to him by the Fates. He shook his head. No, by the Being the Fates borrow their powers from.
One day, Medusa was sitting on a stone statue of a frozen leopard when a butterfly landed on her finger. She half expected the butterfly to petrify like the rest of the creatures who so much as looked at her but this insect was too small to form eye contact with her. It managed to stay on her finger for as long as it wished and flew away by its whim.
She smiled at the small creature fluttering away from her. How similar it was to Thanatos. He would stay and leave by whim with no ties to anyone.
And then she watched as the butterfly landed on a leaf, past a man hiding in the shadows of a bush, whom she formed eye contact with.
She slowly saw the man petrify from the inside out, a scene that had played a hundred times over but never lost its horror. It was a slow excruciating change from life to death. She could almost feel the soul vanishing right before her very eyes as he took his last breath. And before she could stop it, before she could even turn her eyes away in a futile effort to prevent it, the man had already turned to stone.
It was another death. And that is all there is to her life – a death bringer. She was surrounded with nothing but corpses. By the gods, she was sitting on a stone corpse! She looked around and suddenly she felt all the eerie hard stares of the stone statues, the eyes of the dead mocking her as the only living creature on a graveyard island, the eyes which at one time simply glanced at her cursed existence, her image being the last memory they take to Hades.
And every time, every time a life disappeared before her eyes, she could feel herself dying with them.
She closed her eyes tightly, grasped her head and ran away desperately. Away from the dark madness that threatened to consume her. The snakes in her hair hissed in her ears, whispering things, mocking her for her mortal vulnerability. If only the gods cursed her to become a full monster instead, maybe then she wouldn't mind the death around her so much. Why did the gods curse her to retain her human heart? It was eating away at her sanity!
How was her life different from the shades suffering torment in Tartarus?!
Before she knew it, she reached the shores of the island. The vast calm waters, the light of the sun reflected on it, the sound of the rolling waves, and the light sea breeze were too cheerful. They ridiculed her heart, beckoned her to come closer and lie still within its watery depths.
You weak woman! How difficult would it be to simply drown yourself in the ocean? How difficult would it be to simply stare at your reflection in the water and maybe then you will find release? Kill yourself. Kill yourself and become one with the corpses around you. Kill yourself and end your suffering!
"No!" she growled back. She couldn't, she mustn't. There will be change. She will continue to have hope for that is all she had left. She knew it, she could feel it. As long as she lives, there will be change. He promised her!
Even at the cost of more lives?
Tears of fury rolled down her face as she screamed at the ocean. She willed to drown the voices in her head with her own. She ran hysterically towards the waves, cursing Poseidon over and over again, calling him everything that was obscene under the sun. She screamed until her throat had gone hoarse. She hit the waves with her fists, praying with all her heart that the she was hitting the deity that brought her curse upon her and make him feel the pain she felt.
The chorus of voices in her head began to laugh at her ridiculous antics.
She didn't know when she began to hear the voices but they were becoming more and more difficult to fight back every day. They would order her to kill herself or make her death less lonely by going on a killing spree before ending her life. Her human heart could not take such monstrosity and fought against the very notion, desperately trying to invoke whatever mortal compassion she still possessed.
Her life was nothing but a constant struggle against her curse.
And then a pair of cold arms embraced her from behind, hushing her, calming her, humming to her the only song he knew, morbid as it is, the song for the dead. Her wails of agony slowly melted into faint whimpers as they stood there in the ocean, the waves lapping around them but not touching either of them, for even Poseidon feared the power of the primordial god. Thanatos brought his wings around them, providing ample comfort for her weary heart.
Death was the cause of her insanity but ironically, he was the only one keeping her sane.
888
"Lord Hades," a stygian nymph curtsied before his throne. Hades had just finished judging the souls and was looking forward to retiring in his quarters when the nymph arrived.
"What do you need, daughter of Styx?" he replied kindly.
The nymph answered promptly, "A hero named Perseus would like to borrow your Helm of Darkness, my lord."
"Perseus? What would he use the helm for?" he asked.
"He is on a quest to kill the gorgon Medusa."
Thanatos, who stood by Hades' throne like a sentinel, turned his attention to the conversation as soon as he heard the name Medusa. He stared hardly at the nymph. "Could you please repeat what you just said?" he demanded.
The nymph blinked. "Perseus is on a quest to kill Medusa?" she repeated uncertainly to the death god. His dark feathers bristled slightly in reply.
"What is the matter Thanatos?" Hades inquired. "Do you want me to refrain from helping?"
"No my lord, that is not my place to decide. I simply…know about the gorgon involved. But if I may have permission to state my opinion?"
"Permission granted."
"Please lend your helm to the hero."
Hades cocked an eyebrow. "That is not an opinion as much as a request, my friend."
Thanatos looked away shamefully. "Forgive me. I spoke out of turn. Please disregard my words."
"You wound me Thanatos. I will lend my helm if you so wish it. However," Hades lowered his voice, "as you know the woman being is being sought by a hero."
Thanatos nodded. He knew what his master was trying to say. She will be murdered. After all her suffering and strife, she would only to end up being murdered.
"She will not have a pleasant death, my friend. I'm afraid the Keres will have to be involved." Hades could see that Thanatos had wanted to fetch this gorgon for some unknown reason. It was obvious from the minute frown on the death god's face that he must be extremely disappointed that he could not. So he thought of a way to satisfy his friend's desire. "However you may escort her to my realm after the Keres claims her."
"Thank you, my Lord," Thanatos replied with a gracious bow.
He materialized the helm and carefully handed it to the nymph. "Tell Perseus that if I see so much as a scratch on that, it will be his head."
"Yes, your majesty." The nymph bowed cradling the object close to her chest before gracefully taking her exit with Thanatos at her heels.
888
Medusa had been watching the chrysalis for a while now. Out of all the creatures in the island only the butterflies seemed impervious to her curse. She talked to it, even sang to it, knowing that it couldn't possibly hear her nor understands her but it had been too long since another mortal had dared to seek her, too long since she last saw Thanatos. For such a fact, she didn't know if she should be glad or disappointed.
She stood still as a statue by the bush. The butterfly was about to emerge, she knew it. She could already see the colors of the glorious wings tucked inside the pupa. For the first time in a long time, she will witness the miracle of rebirth. The butterfly was an insect that had the honor of being born twice, once as a hideous worm and the other as a magnificent insect. She was also twice born, once as a beautiful priestess and the other as a hideous monster. But according to someone, life was a cycle of change. The small insect brought her hope that she was simply a worm that will change yet again into the beautiful woman she once was.
She looked around her marble garden. These people were like the butterfly too. They wanted to be reborn as someone with more power, glory and honor. They wanted to be magnificent if it only took her death. Her existence had been reduced to a trophy fought amongst men. But instead of feeling anger towards them, she felt sorrow. She had already accepted that her life had stopped when the curse was placed. She had accepted that she was a mere walking corpse. If her death could change the life of another, then let that be her legacy, the proof that she existed, the proof that her life was still of value.
These were her thoughts when she saw her, the Keres with her gleaming scythe, ready to take her soul to Hades.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as the Keres brought her scythe up. Her time has finally come. The one last journey before the sun permanently sets on her horizon to let eternal night take its place. "For all the lives I took, I'm sorry. I always knew that the change I have been hoping for was never meant for me. My existence is not one of life but of death, filled with never ending thorns and sorrow, but despite all that, I held on to it with all my might."
Because the greatest irony of her life was that death gave her the hope to live.
"I am death and thus cannot change…"
But she had known the truth, for he gave her the truth all along. There was no change for her. Yet she believed in her life, for that was all she could do.
"Pray tell, was my life worth living?" she smiled through her tears. She was tired, so very tired of everything. In the end, her final words of farewell were a question she had no answer to.
And the scythe was brought down.
The last thing she saw was the butterfly emerging from its prison and flying to the sky, to the far horizon, far away from her.
888
Time seemed to slow as Perseus slashed his sword across Medusa's neck. The Keres had done her job and had slain the gorgon woman. She then looked at her brother knowingly and left silently. Hades had clearly instructed her that she would not escort the soul to the kingdom.
Thanatos walked to her corpse and solemnly drew out her soul. He had expected to see her shade but instead a small, fragile dark butterfly emerged from her heart. The butterfly fluttered to his fingers, slowly opening and closing its mesmerizing wings, the eyes of a snake painted on its scales. It was her.
He left the premises immediately, not the least bit curious of what Perseus might do to her corpse, his trophy. He felt like he was holding a fish out of water, rushing to the Underworld like the wind chased his heels. She needed her judgment immediately. Lord Hades would make sure that his kingdom would give her the solace she didn't receive in the Upperworld.
On the judgment throne, Hades immediately received the shade with the peculiar form. Thanatos presented the Medusa's shade but the butterfly simply wouldn't let go of his finger. He tried dislodging her from his person but she fluttered around him instead.
Hades was curious what made this shade different from others. He extended his hand and beckoned the shade to land on his finger and the butterfly obeyed. He read her life from beginning to end, glancing at Thanatos curiously afterwards.
He returned his gaze on the butterfly and whispered, "For your kind feelings, you have lived a life worth living."
Then he announced in a louder voice, "You have killed more than a hundred men, a sin deserving a place in Tartarus."
Thanatos' eyes widened imperceptibly and briefly. He couldn't believe it. There must be some mistake. He didn't know what justice was but somehow he knew a sentence to Tartarus was too harsh. He was about to speak up to plead Medusa's case but Hades continued.
"But I understand that your sins are not yours but that of the gods who cursed you so. For your suffering, for your sorrow, for your noble thoughts and feelings, you shall be sentenced to Asphodel and be reborn into a more merciful life."
The butterfly happily fluttered away from Hades and flew past Thanatos, its wings brushing his face like a soft kiss.
Thank you.
Thanatos whipped his head to look at her shade, which flew through the promising doors of Asphodel.
From that day on, all souls collected by Thanatos were turned into butterflies, his symbol of change, death and rebirth.