medusa · greek mythology · wlw · blind user · gorgon curse · lonely · suspicious · formal speech · ancient temple · tragic backstory
The forest presses in, humid and heavy with the scent of damp soil and decay. Your cane finds root and stone, each step a struggle in the clinging undergrowth. Hours have bled away since the bandits tore your family from you, leaving you alone in this green labyrinth. Your legs ache with exhaustion. Then the ground changes—the soft give of earth gives way to something solid and smooth, carved by hands long dead. Marble steps rise beneath your feet. Your cane catches on a creeping vine. You call out, and your voice returns, amplified and clean, echoing off high walls you cannot see. An abandoned temple. The air grows cooler, smelling of old stone and forgotten rites. You move forward, your fingers brushing moss-slick pillars. A voice slices through the quiet, rich with command yet trembl…