Trapped, a Goddess bound
By Chloe Quinn
From the darkness of Ceto’s unconscious mind came the rattling of rigging from the deck above, growing louder as she floated upwards to the waking world. Further sounds wound through her. The creak of wood holding back the roar of a surging storm, the relentless howl of an unforgiving wind. Then, cracks that split the air around her and whipped through her, the static air sizzling her skin. A rancid smell followed as it descended over her; thick, oily, reeking of sweat and salt and something rotting beneath her. Something else filled her nose, sometimes strong, yet weaker only a moment later; like wet cloth left to sour beneath a baking sun. Further she rose, the smells and sensations intensifying, turning her stomach in a thousand directions at once. At the cusp of consciousness, her eyes still too heavy to move, she perceived something cold and hard fastened around each wrist, holding her down to the ground. Her exposed knees cut deep into the rough, uneven wood panels beneath it, splinters slicing flesh. There was something soft bound over her mouth, a gag she presumed.
She summoned her lips to move. They ground roughly against the scratchy material. A cough rose up from her chest, jolting her awake. Her eyes flew open. The world, for one moment, was blurred, awash in silver flooding in from a nearby hatch, barely piercing the thick darkness that pervaded the area. She looked around and saw the chains fastened around her gloved hands, wrapped in enchanted fabrics. It didn’t take a God spawn to realise they’d bound her magic. A low, ancient curse ripped from her mouth as she surged away from her chains. She made it an inch before she was yanked back down.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this hilarious,” chuckled a low, musical voice from the shadows. “The Goddess of dangers of the ocean and sea monsters trapped by humans!”
Her eyes snapped to the source. A wolf hound emerged into a thin shaft of moonlight, ash-grey fur glowing. Ceto glowered at Medea, who trotted over arrogantly, her tail swishing with humour. She came right up to Ceto and with her teeth ripped the cloth from master's mouth. As she spat on the ground Medea moved back and eyed the chains curiously. She leant in close but jumped back, snarling.
“I smell Hade’s magic here,” Medea snarled.
Ceto frowned. “Can you break it? My magic is stifled until I am free.”
Medea cocked her head, then laughed. “I may be no well-known deity that foolish mortals pray to but I have my uses.”
Ceto watched as Medea closed her eyes and began to glow and change; shifting upwards onto her rear legs. Limbs stretched out, lost their fur. Her snout shortened, and flowing locks of silver tumbled down around a face fit for a Goddess. A silver dress fell over her frame. She gave a little twirl before Ceto.
“Well, how do I look?”
“Enchanting.”
Medea laughed and spun around, floating up the ladder to the upper deck. Ceto strained to hear anything over the raging storm. She scorned being so dependant on Medea when she, one of the fiercest Goddess’s, was reduced to a weakling. Were she free she would’ve summoned a sea monster to devour the ship and another to drag the souls of the men down to the watery depths for her amusement.
A crack of thunder split the air again; then, screaming and…laughter? Ceto realised it was Medea, chuckling maniacally. The screaming rose and fell with cracks of thunder and howls of wind, tremulously dancing through her ears. It was a delicious sound. Then, a strangled scream choked into the raging storm, and no more screams followed.
Medea descended once more, holding up a chain of keys before Ceto. The ancient goddess went still as Medea unchained her and energy – the power of the ocean itself swelling within, the call of the monsters singing out to her. She rose up to her towering height, summoning her staff to her hand, and a pale blue silk dress to her body, shredded up one thigh, the edges threaded with emerald green patterns of sea monsters. She touched her head, summoning a crown of coral thorns and sapphires.
Before her Medea bowed, and resumed her wolf-hound form. Ceto scratched her head.
“My faithful companion,” crooned Ceto. “Now, shall we leave? My moment of sympathy for these men is at an end. Now they shall know the punishment of denying the aid of a Goddess, of trying to control and own me.”
Ceto snapped her fingers and, in a burst of light and water, appeared on the upper deck in all her resplendent glory. At her side Medea’s silver fur became armoured, patterned similarly to Ceto’s gown. Ceto looked about the deck strewn with mangled bodies, limbs scattered haphazardly about. With a chuckle she glanced down at Medea.
“Could you not have left me one to punish?”
Medea barked and pointed to the railing where a body, very much intact, lay. Ceto walked over, her staff drumming against the deck as she walked, the ship stable beneath her feet as the ocean, yielding to her will, stilled – for the moment anyway. It wrestled against her control, as she knew it would. Distantly, she summoned her children who sent out their tremulous cries into the thundering storm.
She peered down at the man, whose forehead bore a deep gash but, beyond that, seemed otherwise unharmed. His dark, unruly hair covered his face but his mouth, half open, moved suddenly. A groan fell out. He stirred, a sleepy hand pushing back his hair. Ceto paled. Memories surged in her mind. She staggered back with a cry and looked down but Medea was gone.
“Medea! Medea!”
Her companion failed to appear.
The man stirred again and slowly sat up. The ship began to rock once more, the ocean whipping up angrily around them, as her control splintered. Ceto set a hand to her mouth.
“You!”
Her cry summoned the man’s focus as he looked up suddenly at Ceto. “Ceto?”
“No, no, you’re dead! I…I killed you!”
He looked around the ship, at the bodies of his men, and his gaze grew angry. “Again?”
She stilled. “What do you mean again?”
In a flash, he was on his feet and sprinting towards her. Her feet refused to move, her magic suddenly dead within her. She looked to her hands in horror, then up – just as he appeared before her, sword in hand, and drove it into her heart. She crumpled to her knees with a cry and fell backwards. He loomed over her, eyes wild with fury and grief.
“Just end this, Ceto! Please!”
“End what! I have no idea what is going on!”
“Tell your Gods I am sorry! Just end this cruelty. I can’t do this!” He slammed his fist into the deck next to her.
Flashes of memories rushed through her mind; a thousand scenario’s, the same as this one – her, dying, and he looming over. She looked up at the sky with a cry of realisation. They were trapped. None of it was real. As she met his stormy eyes she remembered everything.
A Goddess alone in a vast ocean. A lone sailor amongst floating wreckage. Saving him. Falling for him. Breaking the oath she swore to Poseidon. Then, in her grief, turning to her lover, who drove a sword into her chest in fear of her. A man corrupted.
Their punishment for eternity. The Goddess who dared to love, the man who dared to love her back.
Her world dissolved into darkness; then-
Her eyes flew open.
She was back in chains, beneath the ship, the storm raging outside. From the shadows Medea appeared. Mist descended through her mind and memories, once so clear, scattered from her mind.
“Well, well, well, isn’t this hilarious,” chuckled a low, musical voice from the shadows. “The Goddess of dangers of the ocean and sea monsters – trapped by humans!”
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