"Oh… Tom Marvola Riddle, huh?" Queen Medusa said slowly, her voice curling with amusement. "I know about you. You're the son of the most powerful human mage… and the one Odin feared."
Her eyes narrowed with a playful challenge as she stepped closer to the mirror.
Tom's emotionless gaze met hers. A small, cold smile touched his lips—but it held no kindness.
"Yes," he replied simply. "And you know what? I want something from you."
Medusa raised a sculpted brow. "Oh? What could a cursed boy behind glass possibly want from me?"
Tom leaned slightly forward. The faint glow of the magical mirror reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like dying stars.
"I want you to free me from this prison," he said calmly. "And if you do… I will give you anything your heart desires. But first—free me."
Medusa let out a soft laugh, though her tone turned razor-sharp. "Why would I do that, hmm? Do you think I know nothing about you? I know exactly what you are… something crafted from pain and vengeance. In your eyes, mercy is just another form of death."
Without warning, she grabbed a black cloth and tossed it over the mirror, cutting off his image.
"Stay in darkness, dear cursed boy," she mocked with a quiet chuckle.
From behind the veil, Tom's voice rang out—low and calm, yet carrying thunder beneath it.
"I am not like them… not like humans. Not like demons. Not like angels. Not even like Lucifer. If you are the thunderstorm, Medusa… then I am the sky that commands it."
A pause.
"Keep dreaming, dumbass," Medusa muttered with a smirk. "And one more thing…"
"I know," Tom interrupted, his tone dry. "You think I'd try to spy on you while you dress. I'm not human enough to care for such triviality."
Medusa snorted. "Damn right you're not. You're a dumbass—how could I forget?"
Tom turned his back and strode silently to the chair within the mirror's chamber. He sat, opened a thick tome of dark magic, and read in complete silence. The room fell still again.
Medusa huffed and returned to her bed, rolling her eyes.
---
The Next Morning
Queen Medusa stretched as she rose from her silk sheets. Yawning, she approached the mirror and pulled the cloth away. To her surprise, Tom was nowhere to be seen.
Just then, her younger sister Stheno entered entered the room, practically glowing with excitement.
"Sister! Are you ready for today's festival?" she asked.
Medusa rubbed her eyes. "Not yet. You go on ahead—I'll join soon," she murmured sleepily.
"Okay!" Stheno sang, skipping out.
Medusa washed her face, letting the cold water snap her awake. Then she removed her robe and began to dress—layers of obsidian-black silk hugging her figure as her hair-snakes twitched and coiled lazily.
As she turned to fix her necklace, her eyes flicked toward the mirror.
Tom was standing there.
Watching.
Medusa's face turned scarlet in an instant.
"Don't tell me… you saw everything?" she asked, her voice flustered.
Tom's expression didn't change. But his answer was immediate.
"Unfortunately… yes."
Queen Medusa stood frozen, a deep blush blooming across her otherwise composed face. Her voice trembled slightly—not with fear, but with outrage laced in flustered embarrassment.
"How dare you watch me this whole time!" she hissed, her crimson eyes narrowing in accusation.
Inside the glowing mirror, Tom Marvola Riddle didn't flinch. He merely tilted his head slightly, a faint, almost mocking smile curling his lips.
"Well," he said calmly, "it's not exactly my fault, is it?"
His voice was low and steady, like a distant thunder rumbling in a storm. It wasn't just what he said—but the way he said it—that made Medusa's pulse quicken in fury.
"I swear, I should kill you for that!" she snapped, her voice rising with indignation. Her fists clenched, her snake-hair hissing in agitation. "Do you know who you're talking to?!"
Tom chuckled darkly, resting his hands behind his back as he stepped closer to the inside of the mirror.
"Oh, I know," he replied with a light laugh. "But if you really want to kill me, you'll have to free me first."
Medusa's glare intensified. Her jaw tightened, but her expression was torn between anger and confusion. Her pride screamed to tear the mirror apart, yet her curiosity—the tiniest crack in her armor—held her back.
"You... you're an idiot!" she barked, spinning on her heel and storming out of the room, her footsteps echoing like distant thunder.
Left alone in the dim glow of the magical mirror, Tom's smile slowly twisted into something darker. His once serene expression sharpened, and a dangerous glint shimmered in his eyes.
He stepped back into the depths of the mirrored room and whispered coldly to the silence:
"Let her play her game... Soon, this kingdom shall receive a mercy. A mercy called death."
And as those words faded into the darkness, the runes around the mirror pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat, or perhaps... a countdown
Night fell like a shroud over the serpent kingdom. The silver moonlight filtered through the towering obsidian windows of the royal chamber, but Queen Medusa's room remained steeped in shadows.
She entered her chamber, eyes heavy with exhaustion, and cast a glance toward the enchanted mirror. Tom wasn't there. He was probably wandering elsewhere within the mirrored prison.
With a frustrated sigh, Queen Medusa collapsed onto her bed, letting her arms sprawl.
"My life is getting worse," she muttered to herself, rubbing her temple. "In the day, it's kingdom duties and endless nonsense… and at night, a cursed bastard who gives me nothing but a headache." Her voice was a blend of irritation and resignation.
After a moment, she stood and wandered over to her bookshelf, a tall structure adorned with ancient runes and filled with tomes older than most civilizations. Her eyes skimmed across the weathered titles, fingers brushing along the spines.
"I have so many magical books," she murmured. "But what's best to read tonight…"
Just as her hand paused over a familiar spellbook, a cold voice echoed behind her.
"What are you looking for, Medusa?"
She turned slowly.
There he was—Tom Marvola Riddle—standing within the mirror, his emotionless gaze fixed on her. Even caged behind glass, his presence carried a weight, a silent threat laced with elegance.
"I'm looking for a book to read," she replied, arms crossed. "And it would be better if you called me Queen Medusa. Show some respect. You're nothing but a little worm compared to me, dumbass."
Tom tilted his head ever so slightly, a ghost of a smile touching his lips.
"If I were to suggest anything… I'd suggest you free me," he said, his tone cool and commanding.
Medusa's stare sharpened. "Never. Not even in my dreams," she snapped. "That mirror is where you belong."
Tom gave a quiet chuckle. "I think the little queen is getting angry."
With fury in her eyes, she stormed toward the mirror.
"I am the most powerful being in this realm. Don't you dare speak to me like that!" Her voice cracked like lightning. "You're a worm. A fucking worm. Learn your place, you cursed idiot!"
A flicker of amusement danced across Tom's face.
"Oh? So you're saying you're stronger than me?" His voice lowered into a mocking whisper. "Then… prove it. Free me."
Something inside her snapped.
Her eyes glowed crimson, and a violent red aura exploded from her body like a supernova. The room trembled, books rattled on their shelves, and the very air twisted with her rage.
"You son of a bitch! I'll kill you, you filthy worm!"
Without hesitation, she began to chant an ancient, forbidden spell—one not uttered in centuries. Her voice roared like a storm as the dark incantation filled the chamber:
"Ex Tenebris Orta Umbrae Devorant Lucem.
Sanguis et Animae Mea Potestas Compleatur.
Eclipse Arcanum Fiat Nox Aeterna!"
The glyphs around the mirror pulsed to life, each glowing with a hellish crimson light. The glass began to crack—shimmering, breaking—and finally shattered into dust.
A dark silence followed.
Then… Tom stepped forward from the ruins of his prison.
He was calm. Poised. A man reborn.
"Finally," he whispered. "After all these years…"
In his hand appeared a staff of nightsteel, inscribed with runes of the damned.
Medusa, without hesitation, summoned her blade of celestial venom and lunged at him with speed that tore through the air itself—faster than lightning, perhaps faster than light.
But the moment her sword met his chest, it melted… disintegrated… as though touching a god.
"What the—?!" Her voice trembled with disbelief.
Tom looked down at her, eyes glowing with the fire of dark eternity.
"Don't worry," he said gently. "I have mercy for everyone."
He smiled, cruel and beautiful.
"But that mercy… is called death."