It was dusk, and the last cries of the seabirds before they settled into their nests for the night still echoed on the air as Chrysaor stepped off the wooden gangplank extended from the ship and set foot on the quay. Surveying his surroundings, he thought to himself So this is Seriphus...I have reached the end of my journey, and the fulfillment of my vengeance is close at hand.

Chrysaor had still been in Egypt when, walking down a a dusty street one day, his ears caught a conversation between a newly arrived merchant and his friend. "Of course," the merchant was saying, "it would not have been necessary at all, had foolish Cassiopeia not made the boast. If Perseus had not happened to come by with the Gorgon's head at that precise moment, poor Andromeda would now be filling that monster's belly!"

The merchant gave a startled yelp then as Chrysaor seized him by the shoulders and nearly shouted "Tell me all you know of this Perseus! Who is he? Where is he from? Speak, man!"

Eyes wide with nervousness, the merchant stammeringly replied "Perseus...Ah, appeared in Joppa, on the coast of Syria, a short time ago, and used the head of the Gorgon - which he claimed to have cut off himself - to turn to stone a sea monster that the princess Andromeda had been about to be sacrificed to! It was all the fault of the princess' mother, saying her daughter was more lovely and divine than - "

"I care not for Andromeda or her mother!" Chrysaor snapped. "Just tell me of Perseus! Is he still in Joppa?" Fearfully, the man explained that Perseus had not stayed long in the city, swiftly marrying the grateful princess Andromeda and departing for his home, allegedly the island of Seriphus in the Aegean Sea. Chrysaor wasted no time in journeying to the coastal city of Pharos, where he was able to buy passage first to Crete, and from there to Seriphus. Nearing the edge of the docks in the deepening twilight, he spotted an old woman wrapped in an equally old shawl sitting against a stone wall. Walking over and squatting opposite her, he said "Pardon me, old woman, but can you tell me where I might find one called Perseus?"

"Perseus?" the old woman said. "He has been an honored guest of our new king, Dictys, in the royal palace since returning with his new bride and the head of Medusa, which he used to dispatch our hated former ruler, Polydectes!" Directionsto the palace cost Chrysaor gold, leaving him with very little more after his long voyage over land and sea. No matter, he told himself. I live only for revenge. Once that is done with, I care not if I live or die; let the Fates decide.

The palace of King Dictys was quite modest in comparison to other structures of importance that Chrysaor had seen while in Egypt, but then Seriphus was only a small and relatively unimportant place; not much more than an isle of fishermen's huts. The building did, however, possess a small contingent of guardsmen. Moving fast and silently, he was just able to avoid those outside, scrambling over the wall and dropping down into the shadowy gardens. Stealthily as a great cat in some far off jungle, Chrysaor crept through the bushes until he came within sight of the doorway into the manse. A single sentry stood alert there. A moment later the sentry started at the sound of a cough, followed by a groan of pain, emanating from the nearby bushes. "Who goes there?" he barked, his hand going to the hilt of his sheathed sword. There was silence, and then the same agonised groan as before. Warily, he stepped into the shadows. A minute later Chrysaor emerged, glad that he had only had to render the guard unconscious. He sought only one life this evening.

Chrysaor encountered no one as he traversed the corridors of the palace, though from somewhere close by, he heard the voices of a number of people. He ducked into a dark alcove and watched a servant carrying a tray laden with food pass through a door into a well-lit room. Darting forward, he peered round the edge of the door into the chamber beyond, seeing an assemblage of men and women sitting on cushions talking and laughing together as they feasted on exotic food and drank wine. They all looked up and froze as Chrysaor, seizing the moment, revealed himself in the doorway and called out "Is there one among you named Perseus?"

A bearded man at the head of the group got up and said angrily "Who are you? How did you get into my home? Answer me!"

Striding into the room, Chrysaor said "You must be King Dictys. You may rule this tiny island, but you do not rule me. Now, where is Perseus!"

A man stood up from where he had been sat between two women, one older than the other. His hair and eyes were light, his build slender. He was perhaps about Chrysaor's age. "I am Perseus," he said.

Looking at him, Chrysaor felt his gut twist with hatred. "So you are the slayer of Medusa," he sneered. "Know then, Perseus, that I am Chrysaor, Medusa's son by Poseidon!" Gasps of shock broke out at his words, and faces went pale, including Perseus' own. "I come for my mother's head," Chrysaor continued, "and your life, you murdering bastard!" Shaking with rage, he raised his sword and rapidly closed the gap between himself and his weaponless target.

"No!" the older woman who had been with Perseus suddenly cried, jumping up and interposing herself between them both.

"Danae!" Dictys exclaimed in alarm.

"Please," Danae saud imploringly to Chrysaor, do not kill my son! He only did what he did to save me, his mother!" Chrysaor had been fully ready to deliver the killing blow, but now, faced with Danea, he found himself frozen. Something in the woman's eyes touched him...then he yelled in surprise as a strong arm suddenly encircled his neck from behind, and something smashed down on the back of his head like a hammer. Stars blazed in his eyes for a second, and then darkness as deep as any ever weaved by Nyx. "Don't kill him..." Danae's voice dimly reached him before all sensory perception dwindled utterly, and was gone.