Then hear now another tale of old — one not of gods shaping infants with fire or water, but of a woman’s cunning heart, fierce as flame, whose love and wrath both shook the earth. This is the story of Jason and Medea. 

Jason, captain of the Argonauts, sailed across the sea in quest of the Golden Fleece, that shining pelt guarded by a dragon in far-off Colchis. The task was impossible — save that the gods stirred the heart of Medea, daughter of King Aeëtes, and priestess of Hecate.

Struck by love, or by Hera’s design, she chose to aid Jason. With her potions and spells, she gave him power to yoke fire-breathing bulls, to sow the earth with warriors, and to lull the sleepless dragon that guarded the fleece. Through her he triumphed, and together they fled Colchis, Medea forsaking father and home.

"Golden fleece, by magic won,
Love has bound what hearts have done,
Oaths are sworn, and ships set sail,
Yet the gods watch every tale."

For a time they wandered, and at last came to Iolcus. There Jason sought to claim his rightful throne from King Pelias. Medea, ever cunning, devised a trick: she told Pelias’ daughters she could make the old king young again, as she had done with a ram. They, believing her, cut their father into pieces and boiled him — but no youth returned. Thus Pelias died, and Jason and Medea were driven into exile.

They came to Corinth, and for a while knew peace. But Jason, ever ambitious, sought to wed the princess of the city, casting aside Medea, though she had given him children and borne him across half the world.

"Broken vows, a faithless bride,
Scorned, the sorceress turns her side,
Love betrayed is sharper fire,
Vengeance walks when hearts conspire."

In her wrath, Medea wove a cruel revenge. She sent to the princess a robe and crown anointed with hidden poison. When the bride donned them, fire consumed her flesh, and her father the king perished trying to save her. And darker still — Medea struck at Jason’s very blood, slaying their own children so no rival hand could claim them.

Then, carried in a chariot drawn by dragons, Medea fled, untouchable, leaving Jason broken amid the ruins of his life.

Thus is her tale told: of love turned to fury, of magic as both blessing and curse. And so the poets remind us — beware the gifts of the gods, and the wrath of the woman who is wronged.