Medusa had only been half paying attention to the collection in front of her when the music started.

At first she didn't think much of it. There had been enough people filtering through that she figured someone had put something on in another room. It wasn't exactly weird. Rich, eccentric people loved rich, eccentric ambience.

She glanced up from the display case, waiting for someone else to acknowledge it.

Nobody did.

"Huh."

It was...pretty.

Not really her thing, if she was being honest. She tended toward songs that were louder and contained at least one person screaming into a microphone about their unresolved trauma. This was softer. The voice carried through the air in a language she didn't recognize, but there was something almost familiar about it. Like hearing someone tell a story you'd forgotten you knew.

She found herself wandering after it without really making the decision to.

The hallway turned into another hallway. Then a room she'd already been in. She frowned.

"...Am I getting Scooby-Doo'd right now?"

No answer.

The song stayed exactly the same distance away.

She picked up her pace anyway.

There had to be a source. A speaker. Somebody singing. Something.

Instead the music wrapped around her from every direction at once.

Okay.

That was significantly less comforting.

The longer she listened, the harder it became to think about literally anything else. The collection. The other guests. If this was a trap. Whether Bacchus had gotten himself into trouble in the last five minutes. All of it quietly slipped into the background until there was only the song.

It settled somewhere deep in her chest.

Warm.

Then painfully warm.

Memories surfaced without asking permission. Her auntie humming while she baked. Falling asleep in the backseat after late-night drives. Sitting on the fire escape outside her apartment with someone she'd once been convinced she'd spend forever with.

God.

She hadn't thought about her in ages.

More memories followed. Better ones. Worse ones.

People she'd loved.

People she'd missed.

People she'd lost.

There was a pressure building in her chest that made it hard to breathe. It felt ridiculous. She knew it was ridiculous. She was getting emotionally body-slammed by a song she couldn't even understand.

"This is some grade-A bullshit," she muttered to herself.

The words fell flat.

Because despite every logical part of her brain throwing up bright red warning signs, she wanted to find whoever was singing.

No.

Needed to.

The realization settled over her with an almost frightening certainty.

Whoever they were, they were calling to her.

The music swelled until it was almost overwhelming. Every emotion she'd spent years neatly packing into little boxes somewhere in the back of her mind came spilling out all at once. Longing. Hope. Regret. Love. Grief.

For one impossible second she thought she understood the words.

Then everything stopped.

Silence.

It disappeared so suddenly that Medusa actually looked around like she'd catch someone turning off a stereo.

Nothing.

Just the "museum".

Just people.

Just her.

The emptiness that rushed in afterward was somehow worse than the song itself. It left a hollow feeling behind, like she'd arrived at an airport five minutes too late and watched someone she desperately needed disappear behind security forever.

She stood there for another moment before letting out a slow breath.

"...Well."

Medusa pinched her eyes shut, forcing down the rapid swell of emotion.

"Whoever you were, congratulations. You made me feel things. Rude."

The joke barely earned a huff of laughter from herself.

She looked down the hallway one last time, hoping the melody would start again.

It didn't.

"Stupid haunted alien museum."

Then something shiny caught her eye. A rainbow charm. Perhaps another guest lost it? Medusa picked it up and sighed. She would try to find the owner...and Bacchus.