The Garden of Stone Shadows – Final Part
She opened her eyes.
Through the sphere, Percy could see her hair expanding and hissing as it sensed his presence. Her face, distorted by the curvature of the reflection, looked even more horrific than it probably was in reality.
Her scaly skin extended down her arms, covered in uneven pustules. A forked tongue slid between her lips as she growled with fury, and below her waist coiled an enormous tail, thick, powerful, and gleaming like that of a massive python.
"You wouldn't hurt a poor old lady, would you, Percy?" the woman said in a tone so soft it almost sounded friendly.
Percy raised an eyebrow without lowering the sphere from in front of his face.
"Funny," he said calmly, strengthening his stance. In an instant, he pushed forward toward Medusa, still trapped, raising his sword high, ready to strike at her neck. "Because you seem to be mistaken about me… and with you, that'll make four," he added coldly before swinging the blade.
Medusa's eyes widened just in time to see the boy's sword coming down. For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Her tail lifted slightly, trying to react, while her body arched backward. She knew that sword would sever her head and that there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her eyes filled with a cold, vengeful resolve, as if accepting that if she was going to die, she wouldn't die alone.
The tip of her tail shot straight toward Percy's heart.
The boy's sword sliced cleanly through the air, severing her head. However, her tail continued its swing, striking with brutal force. Percy was thrown several meters back, flipping once before landing on his feet, though he dropped to one knee upon impact. He released the sword and grabbed his opposite shoulder, where the blow had landed. He had managed to move at the very last second, narrowly avoiding being impaled.
He could have stopped, but he knew a single hesitation might have given Medusa enough time to break free, and he would have lost the perfect moment to strike.
As a precaution, Percy had closed his eyes when he fell. It turned out to be the right move, because he felt something rolling toward him. He instantly knew what it was—Medusa hadn't just relied on her tail; she'd prepared one final attack. If the strike failed, she'd counted on her own head turning him to stone.
The crystal sphere had flown from his hand when he was hit, shattering into pieces upon striking the floor.
"Stay still, Percy, I'll handle it," said Annabeth as she hurried closer. Percy heard her quick footsteps, followed by the sound of something dropping over the head—a thick cloth. The serpents on Medusa's head were still alive, snapping their fangs and trying to bite at Percy's feet.
"Done," said Annabeth with a sigh of relief.
Percy slowly opened his eyes. The head was covered by a small wooden box; a few snakes tried to slither out from underneath, but Annabeth had placed a heavy rock on top, keeping it from moving.
In her other hand, she held another polished sphere, which she carefully set down on the ground.
"You did it," she said, exhaling deeply before her gaze drifted to Percy's shoulder, now drenched in blood and visibly dislocated.
Percy followed her eyes and glanced at his shoulder.
"Oh, right… gotta fix that," he muttered calmly, as if it were nothing serious, though the tension in his face betrayed the pain. He walked toward a nearby crate, took a deep breath, and slammed his shoulder against it. A dry, cracking sound echoed in the air.
The bone snapped back into place. Percy moved his arm carefully, making sure everything was working properly.
Annabeth's eyes widened at the crude way he had reset his shoulder. She quickly reached into her bag.
"Eat this. It'll heal you," she said, offering him a small cube and a vial filled with golden liquid.
"Oh, right… that stuff," Percy replied before swallowing it without hesitation. He glanced at his shoulder, watching as the wound slowly began to close.
"Not bad," he said, flexing his arm lightly. "Almost as good as my master's cooking… though a bit slower than his healing spells."
Annabeth stared at him as if she were looking at a monster.
"How can you just endure pain like that? Even with nectar and ambrosia, the pain should last for a while," she said, knowing that kind of wound wasn't easy to heal. Back at camp, something like that would take days to recover from, even with healers.
Grover approached, exhausted and panting. He had seen Percy's shoulder and nearly fainted, but managed to keep it together—until Percy slammed his bloody arm against the crate to fix it. Then he threw up.
"That injury? Please," Percy said as if discussing something mundane. "During training, I'd sometimes break bones or get wounds so deep all you could see was blood."
"There's actually a funny story about that," he added casually, sensing the heavy mood and trying to lighten it a bit.
Flashback.
"What are you doing?" asked Miraak, staring at his student, who was holding a dagger and trying to cut what looked like his weighted training pack.
"I feel like the weight's gotten too light after a week, so I thought I could make it bigger—or maybe carry the chest directly. But I need some fabric to wrap it with so it doesn't slip, and I figured the straps of my pack would do," Percy said seriously, as if he'd just had a brilliant idea.
Then he lowered the dagger and sliced downward, glancing at his master expectantly, waiting for praise.
But he felt something. He looked down and raised his hand.
There were only four fingers. The fifth lay on the ground, covered in blood.
"Ahhh!" Percy screamed as a golden light surrounded him. His finger, which had been lying on the floor, slowly rose, suspended by his master's magic, until it reattached itself. Percy kept screaming as he watched the finger reconnect, the flesh seal itself, and the wound close completely. His screams gradually faded until they stopped entirely.
Silence filled the room. Miraak stared at him with an expression somewhere between boredom and disappointment, shaking his head slowly, as if wondering at what point his apprentice had decided to have less brain than a troll.
End of flashback.
Percy looked at his companions, expecting them to at least laugh at the story. But they only stared back at him in silence, with a mix of disbelief and resignation. For a brief moment, they wondered if the ruthless monster who had just fought so fiercely could really be the same twelve-year-old boy standing before them.
"We should get out of here... this place gives me the creeps," said Grover, his voice trembling slightly as he tried to change the subject. He glanced nervously at the box that held the head.
"Don't unwrap it. It can still petrify," Annabeth warned seriously.
They both ignored Percy completely, who scratched his head awkwardly, smiling faintly as he looked at his friends. Despite everything, he felt that during this journey, they had grown a little closer.
Maybe he hadn't bonded much with the other kids back at camp, but he had a good excuse: his master always kept him training. Most of his free time was spent in the forest, alone, practicing in silence until dusk. And by the time he realized it, it was already too late to socialize.
Maybe, when he got back, he could try talking to the others.
After all, technically they were all family, right? Even Percy, now that he thought about it, figured that made him some kind of distant uncle to a few of them. If Athena was Poseidon's niece… then logically, Annabeth would be something like his niece-in-law.
Well, that didn't really matter.
"So, what do we do with this? Should we thank Athena for this monster?" Percy asked with a serious look.
Annabeth gave him a glare before replying sharply.
"Your father, you mean. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend, and they desecrated my mother's temple together," she said defensively, crossing her arms. "She and her two sisters helped her enter the temple, and that's why they were punished and turned into the three Gorgons. That's why she wanted to turn me into stone paste. But you... she wanted to keep you as a pretty statue. You probably reminded her of your father when he was young."
"Great," Percy muttered sarcastically. "If we're following the gods' love stories, how many toxic ex-girlfriends of the gods are we going to have to kill in the future? And that's not even counting the ex-boyfriends... wait, weren't there also some animals?" he added, his face twisting with equal parts annoyance and disgust.
"Could you stop insulting the gods for one minute before you get struck by lightning?" snapped Annabeth, exasperated.
Right on cue, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance—even though they were still in the basement.
Percy gave her a look of irritation, listening to her defend the very gods who seemed to want them dead rather than alive.
"Honestly, sometimes you're impossible."
"And you're insufferable," Annabeth shot back without missing a beat.
"And you're a—" Percy began, but Grover interrupted.
"Enough! You two are giving me a headache, and satyrs don't get headaches!" he shouted, covering his ears. "Now, what are we going to do with the head?" he asked quickly, desperate to change the subject.
Percy glanced at the box. It had blank spaces for the sender, recipient, and shipping information. His mind swirled with chaotic thoughts: his first real battle, nearly getting struck by lightning, and now this. All on the first day of their quest.
He walked over to a nearby office, where piles of shipping papers were scattered everywhere. He noticed the name of the delivery company and opened the cash register. Inside were a few coins—but mostly drachmas. He grabbed a sheet of paper and began to write with steady handwriting:
Mount Olympus, 600th Floor, Empire State Building.
For all the gods.
With my best wishes,
Perseus Jackson.
He placed a few drachmas into a small pouch, set it atop the box, and slid the lid shut from beneath without lifting it. A faint golden light surrounded the package. It floated a few inches above the ground before disappearing completely.
"That... is not going to go over well," said Grover with a note of panic.
Even Annabeth couldn't help but look at the scene with a mix of awe and horror.
Percy, meanwhile, was flipping through the papers on the table. One of them had an address addressed to Persephone in the Underworld. Without hesitation, he tore it off and tucked it into his pocket.
"And what are they going to do? Punish me?" he said with a mocking smile. "Even before leaving for this mission, I already got a lightning bolt as a gift from my uncle. Maybe he considers that a present, but I don't see it that way."
Without waiting for a reply, Percy started up the basement stairs.
Grover and Annabeth exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or follow him, and finally went after him in silence.