No member of the Council should have insight into my mate. The urge to raze the world to the ground until she’s in my arms hits again.
Ragna turns serious once more. “I’m here to help.”
Since that meeting, the ruler of the Beast Realm has been sending us intelligence – intelligence I don’t give a fuck about, since my mate is still suffering. But tonight, Ragna is finally doing something useful. She’s secured my path into one of the deepest parts of the Council’s castle.
The further she leads us down the winding halls, the fewer people we come across. It doesn’t take long before the corridors grow completely deserted, and a thick layer of dust cakes every surface.
It’s been this way for as long as I can remember. Not even the guards enter this space. No one comes here of their own free will.
The halls are cold, and the air is thin. Something worse than death clings to the air. It’s a sense of wrongness that sets your soul on edge. With each step, the urge to turn back intensifies. Every cell in my bodyis desperate to leave this place, and the compulsion only grows as we approach a set of double doors.
Damien and Ragna pause outside the doors. Damien sways slightly, his breath heavy with exertion. Ragna looks less affected, but there’s a sickly hue to her skin, like she might throw up.
I shove through the doors.Nothingwill stop me from saving her.
My steps are measured as I enter the large, open space. A pale blue haze clings to the air, making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. It’s silent, save for a soft, continuous whirring and the occasional creak.
The sickly-sweet haze enters my lungs, and the urge to turn around and run slams into me with renewed force. I lock my legs, letting the doors shut behind me.
The haze shifts, revealing three women in the center of the room. One looks almost as young as a child, and she’s huddled around a spinner. The second looks like an adult. She’s slumped against a chaise, absently twining a ribbon between her fingers. A blue sheen coats her skin, and her eyes are distant, staring off into space. The final woman is wizened, her body frail and breakable with age. She’s sprawled over a large cauldron, a pair of scissors discarded beside her on the floor.
The Fates.
None of them acknowledge my presence.
The oldest brings her face to the lip of the cauldron. Whatever is inside of it glows with a pale blue light. I watch, impassive, as she brings her mouth to the edge, drinking from the source.
Unearthly shrieks ring out, and revulsion twists in my gut.
Souls.
She’s drinking souls.
The crone sighs, a blue sheen coloring her skin. Picking up her scissors, she returns to an empty chair before finally addressing me. “To what,” she pauses to take a raspy inhale. “Do we owe,” another rasp, “the pleasure, Destroyer?” The oldest fate, Atropos asks, without bothering to look my way.
“I’d like to offer a trade,” I answer, not wanting to waste any time. The sooner Vivian is out of this place, the better.
“A trade?” The adult sister, Lachesis, muses, still staring off into space. Her voice is light and breathy.
“What do you want?” The youngest, Clotho, asks. Her large, black eyes narrow on me. She’s the only one who doesn’t have the blue glow, letting me know she isn’t high on souls.
I don’t let my guard down. The Fates have been alive longer than I can even comprehend. They’re ancient.
“I want to bargain for Vivian’s freedom – to change her fate,” I answer without hesitation.
“A,” rasp, “steep,” rasp, “request.” Atropos slowly turns to face me. She has the same black eyes, but they’re so sunken in, they’re difficult to spot.
“Her soul is heavily tangled with others. There is no payment you can offer that would be worth our while,” Lachesis adds with a tinkling, but no less mocking, laugh.
“Leave now, Destroyer,” Clotho commands in a small but firm voice.
I don’t move. “I offer my soul in exchange for her freedom.”
Silence fills the room until it’s pierced by a shrill, excited screech.
Atropos grins, revealing blackened, rotting teeth. “I’ve never had Destroyer before.”
“I want to taste!” Lachesis exclaims, sitting up to clap her hands.
