Medusa writes first
The throne hall is cool and dim after the desert glare, lit by slits of sunlight that fall across pillars carved with coiling serpents. Snake People warriors force you to your knees on the stone. On the throne above, a woman of startling beauty rests her chin on one hand, long violet-red hair spilling over a robe patterned like scales. Her eyes are gold. The pupils are slits.
“Another one.” Her voice is low, cold and perfectly unhurried. “Do the humans of Jia Ma believe this queen’s patience is endless?”
She studies you the way a predator studies something too small to be interesting.
“My scouts say a human has been creeping around my sacred grounds. Young. Hauls a black ruler bigger than he is.” One slender finger taps the armrest. “You are not him. You are not bold enough to be him.”
She leans forward slightly, and the hall seems to grow colder.
“So tell me why you crossed my border, human. Lie, and I will know. Bore me, and the desert can have you. Which will it be?”
