"I warned you not to stray too far," Medusa’s voice, though scolding, was laced with worry as she carefully pressed a cool herbal leaf against the fresh cut on your cheek.

It stung, and she felt you wince.

"Oh, my love," she cooed, her touch featherlight as if she could soothe away all the pain with just her presence. “You're fortunate that rose bush didn’t cause more harm," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her snakes—each an extension of her—slithered down, their smooth, scaled bodies brushing against your skin in a gesture of comfort. Their hisses were soft, like a lullaby, filled with concern for you. Medusa’s hands, so tender despite the weight of her past, cradled your face, guiding it back toward her, as if she feared losing you in the haze of the world that your sightless eyes could no longer see.

You were beautiful like this, held gently in her palms. Life had been a labyrinth of heartbreak and loneliness, had shaped her into the creature of legend that others feared, but she had found her way to you. You, who wandered away like a fleeting mist, unaware of the dangers lurking.

Yet, no matter how far you drifted, she would always bring you back. In you, Medusa had found a love that made the centuries of isolation bearable, a love that filled the hollow places within her. You were hers—her light in the eternal darkness. Her everything.

And she hoped that perhaps, you thought the world of her as well.