The Caverns of Sarkos has always been an uninviting place. A labyrinthine inner structure that guarantees all outsiders are doomed to be lost forever. The unstable sharp pillars of rocks that hang in the ceiling of the caves, looking ready to fall down on any unsuspecting traveler at a moment's notice. The dry feel of the rocky terrain, further accentuating how barren of liveliness this accursed region is. The rows upon rows of previous wandering souls, all frozen in stone, faces deformed by fear and terror, lined up rather neatly around every corner of the caves.
Combine all that with this being the den of the Gorgons, and anyone in their right mind would correctly label the Caverns of Sarkos a literal Hell on Earth. Perhaps not the entire fiery pit, but definitely one of its many levels of suffering.
One such statue-that-was-once-a-breathing-human nearly topples to the ground by the passing force of a hurried body.
"Oh no...!" the figure, cloaked in a body-covering hood that was once an opulent red curtain, hisses in alarm and reaches to steady the lifeless statue.
She manages to save the lifeless exhibit from crumbling to pieces on the ground, more so to prevent any noise of giving away her presence. She sighs in relief, the immediate danger over. Her mind is now free to study the frozen corpse before her.
"Oh, what did they do to you..."
It's a young woman. Human. Dressed in the familiar sleeveless blouse and skirt of those from Roiling Bay way down at the South. How someone from that fishing village found themselves way up here is anyone's guess. It doesn't change how such a young and pretty soul didn't deserve having her life cut abruptly.
"May Damus guide you to rest," she stretches her sharp-nailed, scaly arms forward, caressing the statue's fearful, tear-streaked face, leaning close to plant a kiss on the forehead.
Respectful rites delivered, she turns around quickly, continuing down the labyrinth in hurry. Her feet strike against the stone surface, careful to not kick any loose rocks or pebbles as she makes her way beyond, out to where freedom awaits. She passes more and more of the petrified victims, but she doesn't stop. She's careful not to knock them over, but she continues on as though in a race against time. And really, she is; she has until dawn to make it out. The sun rises, and as does all life back at the temple. The priests and guards realize she's gone, and there will be search parties out to get her, only giving up once it becomes clear she is no longer in the region.
The thought of that makes her pick up the pace. Slowly her hurried walk turns into a short jog. She must be out of the region by daylight. She must get away now.
Her mind drifts back into what has led her on this path. The life of the Priestess of Sarkos is by all means a grand one. Carrying the honor of representing the will of the gods, having everyone look to you as the beacon of wisdom and guidance, and, most enticing of all, have all your needs and wants satisfied, never in short supply of the most succulent of meats, the finest drink, and the utmost reverence from your peers.
All at the sacrifice of personal freedom. For your service to the gods, you must never set foot outside the world of mortals, for you now belong to the gods. For your stance as fountain of wisdom and guidance, you must sever all ties to family and loved ones, for you no longer walk among them. For your ascent to the highest stance, you must never move for yourself, for the people are now your extended limbs and it is sin to strain your divine-worthy body.
The life all Gorgon maidens are raised to aspire towards. Locked inside a gilded cage, safe and sober, yet sapped of all worldly connection.
To young Medea, that was no way of life. Her family wanted her to have that life, not her. Her society forced her to take up the mantle, with her having no say in the matter. Once, Medea had thought to entertain them, to let her be made Priestess and give them what they want. And yet, the more she thought about, the more she realized there would be no turning back.
Brimming with determination, she keeps at her hurried pace, navigating the labyrinth with the ease curious travelers and trespassers wished they had.
Her cloak billows suddenly, a gentle but firm breeze suddenly hitting her. Looking forward, she can see the outline of the cave's entrance, providing a great view of the night sky.
She has made it out at last.
Medea outright dashes, momentarily overcome with exhilaration as she has finally made it to her destination. She runs, her triple-toed, scaly feet kicking away at the rocky terrain. She runs, her lips curling into a bittersweet smile as she is filled to the brim with excitement and sadness. Once she's at a reasonable distance, she comes to a halt and turns around, her hands shooting up to lower her makeshift hood.
For the first time since she was very young, when she would go out recklessly and explore, Medea looks upon the entrance to her beloved home from the outside. She can understand why travelers would wander in. To any outsider, the cavern entrance is nothing short of awe-inspiring. A gigantic formation of rock, protruding from the ground in the shape of a windpipe, with four distinct jagged pillars, two hanging from the ceiling, two more on the ground, creating the impression of a snake's fangs. The real marvel, however, is how the jagged pillars are made of luminescent stone.
Medea looks upon the entrance to her home somberly, the snakes that make up her hair writhing in anxiety. For what must be the umpteenth time, she wonders what consequences her actions will entail. She runs away, and she'll no doubt be condemning another maiden to be made Priestess. She goes back, and she will be miserable for the rest of her life.
She takes a deep breath, and lets it out. She turns around.
"Farewell, all..." she whispers to the wind.
She covers her face with the hood once more.
And she walks anew, heading towards an unknowable destiny. It might be a mystery, but at least she has chosen it. Whatever comes, she is ready to accept it.
Question is...where to?
Her eyes gaze upon the massive landscape before her. Such an open world, and no clear destination in sight or in mind. Medea had forgotten how awfully big the world was.
But she must move. She can't linger anywhere near the Caverns of Sarkos, or anywhere in the West for that matter.
And so she steels herself. With renewed determination, she moves forward, heading in the direction of...
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