Victims.
I could see it immediately.
Their clothing told stories my mind struggled to piece together, fabrics and cuts shifting subtly from one figure to the next. Ancient robes carved in stiff folds, armor etched with symbols I didn’t recognize. Simpler garments worn smooth by time. Hairstyles changed too, braids and loose curls, shaved sides and bound crowns, all preserved in cold, merciless detail.
“How long?”I whispered, the word slipping out before I realized I had spoken. “How long have they been here?”
Theron did not slow his pace.
“Long enough.” His reply was too calm. Unaffected by my question.
“These are… real, aren’t they?” I said, my voice tightening as the truth settled into my chest. “They were people.”
“They were once, yes.”
My gaze traced the cracked face of one figure as we passed, the stone fractured along the jaw as if the last thing it had known was terror.
“This was her home once,” Theron continued, his tone was almost respectful. “Medusa’s. What remains of it, at least. Thesewere her victims, taken over centuries. When she fell, her home crumbled. The land reclaimed itself.”
He glanced at me briefly.
“These were brought here. Preserved as a reminder,” he added.
“A warning,” I corrected before I could stop myself.
His mouth curved faintly.
“To some,” he said. “To others, a lesson.”
The path narrowed as we moved deeper into the garden, the light growing dimmer as the sun sank lower, shadows stretching long and distorted across the stone faces around us. The air felt heavy with so many eyes on me. I suddenly became acutely aware of every step I took.
Too aware.
My foot caught on an uneven edge in the paving, a raised seam in the stone hidden by shadow, and before I could recover, my balance tipped forward.
Theron reacted without hesitation. His arm tightened around mine, guiding me against his side with a controlled strength that left no room to falter. His other hand pressed lightly to my back as he steadied our pace, his body moving instinctively to compensate for my stumble. For a brief, breathless moment, I was against him, the heat of his body holding me close like a safety blanket.
The world narrowed.
His presence was overwhelming and close, and I was suddenly far too aware of how easily he held me, of how little effort it took.
His voice dropped, close to my ear.
“Careful,”he murmured.“Don’t go falling for me.”A flicker of amusement threaded through his tone.“After all, that wasn’t part of the bargain.”
Heat rushed to my face as I straightened, my heart hammering far too hard for a simple stumble. He released me just as smoothly as he had caught me, but not before I had the distinct, unsettling impression that he had lingered a second longer than necessary.
I stepped away, my mind racing.
There was something there, beneath the arrogance and the control, something almost playful, and it unsettled me far more than his severity ever had. I stole a glance at him as we resumed walking, no longer arm in arm, trying and failing to reconcile the glimpses of softness with the power he wielded so effortlessly.
We reached the heart of the garden.
At its center stood a wide stone circle, the ground within it worn smooth. The statues here were closer, more intact, their expressions clearer and their proximity impossible to ignore.
Theron stopped.
“This is where truth is tested,” he said quietly.
