Bound By The Void

The soft glow of the moss filled the cave as Medusa paced, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Arc's blindfolded figure lingered in her mind, seated in her dwelling with the quiet resolve of a man accustomed to waiting. But waiting wouldn't restore his sight.

His situation was... unique. She had never encountered someone like him before someone whose existence rejected and was rejected by mana. The energy that coursed through the world, the very essence that had reshaped life a century ago, seemed to recoil from him. in this world he was an anomaly, even more than her.

A healing spell was out of the question, it will just dissipate the moment it came close to him.

"Potions, then" she muttered to herself as she paced faster. "They are more stable, their effectiveness come from the ingredients more than the mana itself."

but she knew it wasn't a perfect solution, potions can help, yes, but only if the damage itself was recent. and from the scar across his eyes, she could say that the injury was few months old at the very least, his eyes have been dead for too long.

she stopped moving, her finger absently caressing one of the snake crowning her head. ordinary potions won't do, she needs something of a high enough grade to bring life to not just flesh but the delicate inner working of the eyes itself. and she didn't have anything of that caliber on her, not in this self imposed isolation.

her eyes drifted to the faint reflection of herself in the pool nearby, her blue, reptilian eyes stared back at her, glowing faintly in the dim light. eyes that pulsed with life, brimming with mana that was uniquely hers.

"something alive," she whispered to herself, "something that can accept mana. something that can generate its own mana."

her heart sank as the realization hit her, she only had one thing that can fit this description.

her own eyes.

Medusa quickly took a step back, her breath quickening. the thought felt both wrong and right at the same time to her. her eyes were one of kind not only do they absorb mana but can passively generate it on their own, that mana was the base of the curse that turned people into stone after meeting her gaze. it was one of the many reason she was hunted by humans and some intelligent beasts alike.

She raised a hand to her face, touching her eyelid gently. Would the curse still activate if she only had one eye? Sacrificing one eye would not only mean parting with a piece of her identity but also making her weaker and more vulnerable

the snakes on her head hissed softly, as if sensing her dilemma. brushing her finger at the edge of her eye. could she do it though ? could she part away with something so vital, so personal, to help a man she that she didn't trust ?.

her minds replayed her interaction with him so far, the determination in his voice, the resolve on his face to seek her out despite the danger and that familiar desperation she could sense underneath the surface of his rough exterior.

she glanced at the parchment he had given her, the first fragment of the key to undo her curse.

clenching her jaw, she turned toward another dark passage in the cave, her steps were slow and steady. She had made up her mind, but she needed an insurance that she won't regret this. Even if she knew deep down that what she was going to do was wrong.

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The first rays of dawn filtered through the waterfall's cascading curtain, casting shifting, prismatic patterns across the damp cave floor. The air was cool and fragrant with the faint scent of moss and flowing water.

Medusa approached Arc, carrying a simple wooden tray laden with fruits and a carved wooden cup that brimmed with a sweet-smelling liquid. Her steps were light but deliberate, her expression unreadable, though her serpentine hair occasionally shifted with subtle motion, betraying her thoughts.

Arc sat exactly where she had left him the previous night. His back was pressed against the rough stone wall, head tilted back as though he were resting or lost in thought. His dark hair was tousled, and his face held a calm intensity, even in stillness. Though his eyes were closed, the moment her footsteps reached his ears, his posture changed. His head snapped forward, his back straightened, and his muscles tensed, every instinct honed by years of training compensating for his lack of sight.

"You're up early," Arc remarked. His tone was casual, but Medusa detected the edge of urgency beneath the calm veneer.

"I didn't sleep much," she admitted, setting the tray down beside him. "Had to figure out how to solve your condition."

Arc's expression shifted immediately, his head tilting slightly as he leaned forward. "And?" His voice carried an eagerness that broke through his otherwise composed demeanor.

Medusa allowed herself a faint smirk, her confidence momentarily breaking through her guarded exterior. "I found a way," she said proudly, straightening as she crossed her arms, her snakes shifting ever so slightly as though mirroring her satisfaction.

A quiet sigh of relief escaped Arc, his shoulders loosening as tension visibly left his body. "That's... good to hear," he murmured, his voice softer now.

She watched him for a moment, allowing him a moment to collect himself. Then she gestured toward the tray. "Eat. Drink. You'll need your strength."

Arc hesitated, his hands hovering uncertainly above the tray. His fingers brushed against its edge, moving tentatively as though searching for the cup. There was a caution to his movements, a reluctance to knock over something he couldn't see.

Medusa sighed, rolling her eyes in mild exasperation. She reached down and wrapped her fingers around the cup before pressing it gently into his hands, her touch lingering briefly.

"Here," she said softly.

Arc froze for the briefest of moments, the unexpected warmth of her hand catching him off guard. The calluses on his fingers brushed against the smooth skin of hers before she withdrew. "Thanks," he said quietly, his voice low but sincere.

Medusa straightened, crossing her arms once more as she leaned casually against the cave wall. "Don't get used to it," she muttered.

Arc chuckled as he raised the cup to his lips, his smirk audible in his tone. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied before tipping the cup back and draining its contents in one swift motion. The liquid was sweet and refreshing, leaving behind a faint, floral aftertaste.

Medusa's piercing blue eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him. "You're remarkably at ease for someone in my dwelling. Most wouldn't even manage to sit still." Her tone was laced with mild amusement, though her words carried a deeper weight.

Arc smiled, setting the empty cup aside and reaching for one of the fruits on the tray. "Most people don't know how to handle your charm," he said, his voice nonchalant as he bit into the fruit—a crisp apple. now that he knew his sight can be recovered, his personality seemed to become more cheerful.

"Charm?" Medusa echoed, arching a brow. Her voice held a tinge of disbelief as though the very notion were absurd.

"Sure," Arc replied between bites. "You've got this whole dangerous, mysterious allure. Some might even call it... captivating."

Medusa scoffed, shaking her head as her gaze drifted toward the waterfall. "You only say that because you can't see the kind of monster you're dealing with." Her voice was bitter, and her serpents coiled restlessly, reflecting the storm within her.

Arc paused, setting the half-eaten apple aside. "Beware the fanged queen crowned by snakes," he said evenly, his tone calm but deliberate. "'Gaze too long, flesh to stone.' And of course, ' Eyes of ice, hair of fangs.' Sound familiar?"

Medusa flinched at his words, her expression hardening as her serpents hissed softly in agitation. For a moment, her usual poise faltered, and her eyes flickered with a mixture of shock and discomfort. She didn't meet his gaze—not that he could see—but the weight of his words hung heavily between them.

Arc noticed the silence and exhaled quietly, leaning back against the wall. "Judging by your lack of denial," he said softly, "I'm not far off the mark."

Medusa's lips pressed into a thin line, and she turned her gaze away, staring into the shimmering patterns cast by the waterfall. For all her power and strength, there was a vulnerability in her silence—a momentary glimpse of the burden she carried.

"But do you know what I've learned?" Arc continued, refusing to let the tension settle between them. His voice was steady, carrying a quiet intensity that demanded her attention. "I've dealt with humans and monsters alike. Humans who smile at you, who speak honeyed words, yet wouldn't hesitate to drive a blade into your back if it served their purpose. And monsters—creatures who destroy villages, tear through people—without reason, without hesitation."

His tone darkened, the weight of his words heavy with memory. "In the past few months. I've seen the extremes of kindness and cruelty, good and evil....."

He leaned forward slightly, his pale, unseeing eyes seeming to meet her piercing blue ones as though they could see straight through her. For a moment, Medusa felt rooted in place, unable to shake the feeling of his gaze.

"And you?" he continued, his voice softening yet somehow sharper. "You've shown me more consideration in the past day than my so-called 'friends' have in months. Despite our little... misunderstanding when we first met."

Medusa's brow furrowed. She studied him, searching his expression for even a trace of sarcasm, mockery, or deceit. She found none. His face remained open, sincere.

"I'm not dismissing who you are," Arc said, his tone gentler now, almost thoughtful. "But what you've done and what you will do—that matters more to me than some bard's poem or the drunken tales people spin. And honestly..." His lips curved into a faint, almost teasing smile. "I don't think you're the monster they claim you to be."

Medusa blinked, caught off guard by his words. Her serpents, ever restless and shifting, stilled for the first time since their conversation began, their silence mirroring her own uncertainty. She averted her gaze for a moment, as though the vulnerability his words stirred in her was too much to confront directly.

"You don't know me," she murmured, her voice quieter, tinged with hesitation. There was an unsteadiness in her tone, as though she was unsure whether she wanted to push him away or pull him closer.

"You're right," Arc admitted, leaning back slightly. Then he smiled—a soft, disarming smile that carried more warmth than she expected. "I guess I'll find out."

The cavern fell silent, the muffled roar of the waterfall outside filling the air. Medusa stared at Arc, her expression unreadable. Her thoughts churned, a turbulent mix of skepticism, disbelief, and something else—something softer, buried beneath the weight of years spent in fear, solitude, and bitterness.

At last, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're a strange man, Arc."

"So I've been told," he replied, his faint smirk returning as he leaned back casually against the stone wall.

And for the briefest of moments, the fanged queen allowed herself a ghost of a smile. It was fleeting, barely there, but it softened her sharp features in a way that Arc, though blind, seemed to sense.

In the quiet that followed, there was a strange, unspoken understanding between them. Something fragile yet profound, like the first light of dawn breaking through a long and stormy night.

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Medusa returned to the cave an hour later, her steps deliberate despite the weight of her thoughts. She had excused herself earlier, claiming she needed to gather ingredients from the forest, but in truth, the task she was about to undertake demanded preparation—both in tools and resolve.

As she stepped inside, her eyes scanned the cavern until they found Arc. He was lying on his back atop an elevated rock, arms loosely spread, his head tilted to one side. He looked as though he had merely drifted off to sleep.

Her gaze narrowed. She had laced the drink she gave him with a potent sleeping agent, not trusting how he might react to her plan. Yet here he was, resting so peacefully it almost unnerved her. No sign of resistance, no telltale tension in his body.

Had he known? Had he realized the drink was drugged and simply... accepted it? Did he really trust her that much ? She couldn't tell. But after she is done, he won't trust her ever again. And her shoulder felt heavier with that thought.

Medusa approached quietly, her serpents shifting uneasily atop her head. She set her tools on a nearby flat stone: two small knives, strips of clean cloth, crushed herbs, and a vial of red potion that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

The steps ahead were straightforward—clinical, even—but her hands betrayed her, trembling slightly as she arranged the items.

Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. There was no room for doubt now.

Standing over him, she leaned down and gently pried open his left eyelid. The sightless orb beneath stared back at her, pale and unseeing. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, with a sharp inhale, she raised the first knife.

Her movements were swift and precise. The blade slid in with practiced ease, cutting away the dead tissue. Blood trickled from the wound, warm and dark, but she dabbed it away quickly with the cloth. Within moments, the sightless eye was free, resting lifeless in her hand. Medusa set it aside carefully and exhaled shakily.

That was the easy part. Now came the hard part.

She straightened, her own heart pounding as she raised the second knife to her face. The serpents atop her head writhed anxiously, sensing her intent. She ignored their agitation, steeling herself for what was to come.

"This will hurt," she whispered, a tremor in her voice.

The first cut sent a wave of searing pain through her skull. Medusa bit down hard to keep from crying out, her vision swimming as blood streamed down her pale cheek. The snakes hissed in protest, their movements frantic, but she forced herself to continue.

With one final motion, her blue eye came free. She gasped sharply, nearly dropping it as her entire body trembled from the effort. The orb pulsed faintly in her hand, glowing with an ethereal blue light, warm and alive.

Without wasting a moment, she uncorked the red potion and poured half of it over the glowing eye. The liquid sizzled faintly as it made contact, and she muttered an incantation under her breath—a spell designed to prepare the eye for integration.

And then she covered the eye with both hands and started casting a different spell this time. Dark symbols made of mana started appearing over the eye before they were swallowed by it.

After she was done, she moved to place the eye into Arc's empty socket, something unexpected happened.

Black tendrils of dark energy surged forth from the empty socket, twisting and writhing like living shadows. They latched onto the glowing blue orb with a ravenous hunger, their touch dimming its light at an alarming rate.

Medusa froze, her breath hitching at the sight. Panic clawed at her chest. "No!" she shouted, wrenching the eye free from the tendrils' grasp and staggering backward.

The tendrils lashed out violently, striking at the air like enraged vipers. Medusa's serpents hissed in response, their movements mirroring her own growing fear. But it wasn't just the tendrils that alarmed her—it was the air itself. The mana within the cave was... retreating, dissipating like mist before a storm.

"It's not rejection," she whispered, horror dawning in her expression. "Mana doesn't avoid you—it fears you. It's being devoured."

Her own mana rebelled within her body, surging wildly as if trying to escape.

She clenched her fists, forcing it back under control. If she didn't act quickly, the situation would spiral beyond her ability to salvage.

Her gaze darted to the lifeless eye she had extracted from Arc earlier. It lay motionless on the stone, and yet... the dark tendrils ignored it.

An idea struck her like a lightning bolt.

Snatching up the dead eye, Medusa brought her knife to the glowing blue orb in her hand. With a swift cut, she sliced it open, revealing a small, shimmering blue crystal at its core—the mana core.

This was the source of her eye's unique power, the reason it could generate its own mana.

Without hesitation, she sliced open Arc's lifeless eye and carefully placed the mana core inside. Grabbing the remaining red potion, she poured it over the eye and began reciting a high-tier healing incantation. Her voice was steady, but her heart raced with desperation.

The spell and potion worked in tandem, forcing the mana core to integrate into the foreign eye. As the core began to melt and bond with the tissue, the wound closed over it seamlessly. Medusa held her breath, waiting.

Seconds passed. Then a minute. Just as despair began to creep in, a faint ripple of energy spread from the eye. The dull, lifeless grey shifted, replaced by a vibrant blue iris that gleamed with life.

Relief flooded her, but there was no time to celebrate. She carefully approached Arc once more, holding the new eye. The dark tendrils hovered nearby, hesitant yet hungry.

Medusa didn't give them the chance. She shoved her hand against Arc's chest, infusing mana directly into his body. The tendrils recoiled instantly, retreating like predators distracted by easier prey.

Seizing the moment, she pressed the new eye into the socket and cast another healing spell.

Pain seared through her as her own mana fought against her will, threatening to tear free. She gritted her teeth, forcing the mana into Arc's body despite the excruciating toll.

The dark energy within him clawed at her, seeking the source of this delicious mana. but she cut off the connection just in time.

Stumbling backward, Medusa collapsed onto the stone floor, her body trembling and drenched in sweat. Her vision blurred, and her consciousness wavered.

As darkness overtook her, one thought lingered in her mind.

Did it work?