The Ugly Truth
The air in Medusa's cavern crackled with a restless energy, mirroring the storm raging outside. Falcon perched on a gnarled obsidian throne, wings tucked tight, eyes narrowed at the sorceress sprawled across a carpet of woven serpent scales. He'd come for answers, and by the gods, he wouldn't leave without them.
"So, immortality, was it?" His voice raked across the cavern like broken glass. "A little love token from your fiery heart to Lear's eternal one?"
Medusa let out a laugh that echoed like stones tumbling down a mountainside. "Love? Don't flatter yourself, Falcon. Lear was a plaything, a trinket to amuse." Her eyes, the color of sun-bleached bone, glinted with a feral amusement. "But yes, I gifted him the elixir. A potent concoction, brewed from moonlight and dragon's breath, guaranteed to cheat death's bony fingers."
Falcon's feathers ruffled. "And the consequences? Why keep those shrouded in whispers and shadows?"