Chapter 1. The Myth

In Greek mythology, the tale of Medusa was always told as her becoming the villain in everyone's stories. Beheaded by the hero Perseus, defeated by Hercules—these were repeated stories about her.

However, true mythology paints a different picture. Medusa was the goddess Athena's priestess, and she was so beautiful and striking among the others. Her wavy, jet-black hair shone under the moonlight; her honey-colored skin was so sweet; and her beautiful jade-green eyes completed her perfect look.

Medusa's breathtaking beauty made the god Poseidon fall in love with her. He tried to seduce her but failed, as Medusa was so faithful toward Athena, the goddess she served. Enraged by her rejection, Poseidon raped Medusa right in Athena's temple.

Feeling the temple had been sullied by such atrocities, Athena cursed Medusa, turning her beautiful hair into snakes. Now, whoever dared to stare at her beauty would be turned to stone by the snakes on her head. Athena then banished Medusa and condemned her to live within the Gorgon's domain. Only for the hero Perseus to kill her and behead her to help him complete his journey.

That was the story told—a tale of betrayal, violation, and divine punishment. Yet she was always portrayed as a monster, a villain, while Medusa's tragic fate was the result of the machinations of the gods themselves.

"It's amazing that humans have so many versions of me in their tales," said Medusa, whose name in the modern world is Ariadne Evangelou.

She walked around her house, which she had moved into ten years ago in Longyearbyen, Svalbard, Norway. Due to her immortality, she had moved to different places every fifty years, changing her name each time.

And in this century, she had chosen to call herself Ariadne, a name she had long wanted to use. She had come to this city because it is one of the most isolated places on earth. Medusa didn't want to deal with humans and their antics—none of them could be trusted, and they would always be the first to run away if they became aware of who she truly was.

In the 1700s, she had saved a family of slaves from slavery. She had taught them to read and mathematics and shared her knowledge, and in return, they had devoted their lives to becoming her servants.

Since then, the descendants of that family had been Medusa's sole servants, helping her to live on earth as a human. They ran her businesses around the world, and she, in turn, shared the wisdom she had gained over the centuries, for she had previously been known as Athena's famous lover in her era. Athena had admired Medusa's knowledge, been proud of her wisdom, and fallen in love with her beauty.

Medusa, or Ariadne, as she was known in the modern world, had made her servant family rich for centuries. They had become a lineage of famous merchants, with a few big trading companies around the world. This had given Medusa more freedom in the modern world and ensured she could live however she wanted.

She had unlimited wealth, but she had been alone for many centuries. No one to love, no one to hold her at night or be held by her. She had had one ex; although Athena was beautiful, smart, and strong, she had been possessive and obsessed over Medusa. Athena had not listened to Medusa's story and had decided to cast her out, even when Medusa was the victim of the situation.

"If only I could kill that motherfucker, I wouldn't have to put up with this curse!" Medusa muttered, touching the snakes that hissed on top of her head.

Once in a while, when she was feeling especially lonely, Medusa would think about Athena and how Poseidon had destroyed everything. Because he could not accept her rejection, something that most human males in every era seemed to struggle with.

Medusa had learned to adapt and survive over the centuries, using her servant family's wealth and influence to maintain her freedom. But the weight of her immortality and the betrayal she had faced still haunted her. She longed for true companionship, for someone who would see her for who she truly was and love her unconditionally.

Yet the fear of being abandoned or betrayed again kept her from opening her heart. Medusa remained trapped in a cage of her own making, condemned to wander the earth alone, her beauty both a blessing and a curse.

This Longyearbyen, the northernmost town in the world, was cold and had a myth that it was illegal to die in this town—something Medusa loved. A myth that seemed wrong and different from the actual facts, just like her.

"Madam, please allow me to spend the last of my years with you," said Bernard Johnson, seventy years old this year and who had been serving her since he was seventeen.

Before him was Arnold Johnson, his uncle, who had been granted the honor of serving Medusa. And for the next generation, Medusa had already chosen a smart young lad to serve her for the next fifty or more years.

"Bernard, you should spend your life with your family, not with me," Medusa replied with a smile.

"My family has each other; my children are married and happy with their spouses. My wife passed away five years ago, and I just have myself. I wanted to devote my remaining years to you, madam," he said again. "Plus, Timothy will be seventeen next year, and I'll be training him to be your servant for the next life."

Medusa smiled sadly. It was never easy for her to see how the Johnsons passed away while she remained young and beautiful. She had witnessed many of her servants and their families die before her over the centuries, and each time it was never easy.

"This town is cold, and there is no connection to neighboring communities. The most convenient and accessible transport mode is via the snowmobile. Your old bones will not survive in this town, Bernard," Medusa said, smiling.

"I'm seventy, not dying, madam. Snowmobiles are great, and we have the most expensive and newest model too," Bernard said to her, pride evident in his voice. "And don't forget, this town also hosts an annual film screening event called the Arctic Film Festival."

Medusa chuckled. It seemed Bernard had already made up his mind and would not change it, no matter her objections.

"Suit yourself, Bernard. Build your own house," Medusa conceded, a resigned smile playing on her lips.

"Certainly, madam," Bernard replied, his smile widening.

Medusa knew it was a losing battle. Bernard, like the generations of Johnsons before him, was determined to serve her until their dying breath. She had grown fond of these loyal servants over the centuries, even as she watched them age and pass on, while she remained forever young and untouched by the time.