The strike was clean and smooth, but only later was she grateful. At first, she believed her last vision would be of her own horrific face reflected back at her. She roared at the cruelty of the act. Her vision continued, even as the sight tumbled before her. Her anger turned toward horror at the realization that after the severing, she persisted.

She’d felt the serpents stiffen when the boy struck, and she knew that her monstrous reign was at an end. No more would she feel the soft licks at her cheeks, hear the susurration of their calls, her constant companions these long years now silent, unmoving. More like her victims than herself.

The burnt blue sky spun around and as her head found its center of gravity. Her vision righted itself, giving her a clear view of her shoulders and breasts, still shivering at the shock. Black ichor flowed from her open neck, and she marveled at the shimmering indigo that seemed to glow from within. Whether being born from gods or ravaged by them, she mourned that this luminous wonder had been hidden deep within her. The world had only been allowed her ugliness, and as her vision passed over her belly, she hoped her vengeance would not be forgotten.

The boy screamed in the background, long and drawn out as if spreading itself across millennia. Her head continued to fall in between drops of time, a slow wave as if Poseidon himself had halted the moon. As she passed before her swollen belly, she saw the flutter of the god’s gifts inside her, a hoof pushing against the underside of her skin. Something else poked and thrusted from behind her navel. She felt her head roll back, shifting her vision to the blackened azure of Zeus’ sky. 

She only caught a glimpse of the golden blade that released her children from their womb turned tomb. The soft touch of feathers, not unlike her serpents’ kiss, brushed her cheek, before flying off toward the stars. Her head rolled still and the boy’s drawn out scream finally came to an end. 

At the last, she saw him clearly, without the cataract of death obscuring her sight. He was beautiful, with dark hair against fair skin, the aura of triumph glowing from within. Sweat beaded on his arms as he held the mirror shield high. His sword arm hung low, too heavy for someone so young. Her mortal soul fell instantly in love just as her serpents curled toward her scalp, impotent and cold.

The moment collapsed as she hit the marble floor. Light and sound returned to their normal pitch and all the world sprang to life as she consumed her final vision. Torches burst aflame and the walls seemed to dance in the reflected light. Had the world always been so lovely, she wondered near the end? Had she?

The boy approached slowly, and she marveled at a face untouched by her curse. Medusa shuddered in the memories of her body as he reached into the thatch of serpents and lifted her head. He looked into her eyes as lovers do, eager and unafraid.