I stared at them, incredulous. “Another life? You expect him to wait for a reincarnation that might not even remember him? After everything he’s been through?” I shook my head. “That’s not good enough.”
The sisters exchanged glances. When they looked back at me, something had shifted in their gaze.
“There is always choice, Jade,” Atropos said finally. “Even here.”
“Then give me one,” I demanded. “Because I’m not leaving him alone. Not like this.”
The space around us rippled and transformed, the formless void taking on definition as if someone had suddenly adjusted the focus on reality itself. The threads I’d glimpsed earlier multiplied and brightened, creating a vast network of interconnected lives stretching infinitely in all directions. I could see how they tangled and separated, how some burned bright while others dimmed, the visual representation of every choice, connection, life and death that had ever been or would ever be. It was beautiful and terrifying and way too much for my human brain to process.
“Jesus,” I whispered.
The sisters moved as one, their hands weaving through the air in elegant motions that seemed to pull certain threads into sharper focus. The space directly before me cleared, until only the two identical strands of luminous gold threads remained. They pulsed with matching rhythm, so similar that they could have been reflections of each other.
“These are your primary threads,” Clotho explained, her voice soft but clear. “Two paths, equally strong, equally possible.”
But which was which?
Atropos stepped forward, reaching into the folds of her shadowy robe to withdraw a pair of scissors.
“There is a way,” Atropos said. “But the cost could be greater than you imagine.”
I straightened my spine. “Tell me.”
“You may cut one thread,” she explained, the scissors catching the light as she held them out. “If you cut the thread tied to Trevor, you can end your path with him and use Magnur's immortality to anchor yourself back to life as his mate.”
“And if I cut the wrong one?” I asked, already knowing the answer would be terrible.
Clotho spoke, her tone gentle but unyielding. “If you cut Magnur’s thread, you sever yourself from him completely. Notjust in this life, but all future ones. The connection will be unmade as if it never existed. You willneverfind each other again, in any form, in any world.”
I closed my eyes overwhelmed with the urge to scream. If I chose wrong, Magnur wouldn’t just lose me now; he would lose any chance of finding me again, even in another life.
Lachesis turned to me. “The threads appear identical because both connections are real. Both have shaped your existence.”
“But one is built on love and one is built on obsession,” I argued. “They’re not the same.”
“No,” Atropos agreed. “But they are equally binding.”
“And there’s no way to tell which thread is which?” I asked, desperation edging into my voice.
“The heart knows,” Lachesis said simply. “But only the heart.”
Atropos stepped closer, the shears extended toward me. “Your fate is in your hands,” she said, placing the scissors in my palm.
I stared at the threads glowing before me, the scissors weighing heavy in my palm. How the hell was I supposed to choose when they looked exactly the same? My entire existence, not just this life but apparently all possible future ones, hung on a choice I had no way of making with certainty. Classic. Even in death, I couldn’t catch a break. I could almost hear Trevor’s voice telling me I was being dramatic, that the choice was obvious. And maybe that was the first clue.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the intimidating presence of the Moirai and instead, I focused inward, reaching for memories of Magnur that might guide me. A warmth spread through me so bright and peaceful, I held on to that feeling knowing it was him, his fire spreading light in the darkness to lead me home to him.
I opened my eyes and looked again at the threads before me. They still appeared identical, but I had a certainty that I knew who was who.
I reached out and grabbed the thread on the right firmly in my hand, feeling its energy pulse against my fingers like a second heartbeat. With my other hand, I raised the scissors to the thread on the left. My fingers trembled slightly with the weight of finality. This was it. No do-overs or second chances.
“I choose him,” I whispered to myself. “I choose us.”
The blades closed around the thread with surprising ease. For a fraction of a second, nothing happened, the thread remained intact and I thought perhaps I’d failed somehow. Then it parted with a sound like crystal shattering, the effect spectacular. A surge of golden light exploded outward from within me, so bright it was almost blinding, the severed thread writhed like a wounded snake, its golden light fading to a sickly yellow, then gray, then nothing as it collapsed and unraveled into oblivion. The thread still clutched in my hand burned brighter, it thickened and pulsed with renewed vigor, as if finally free of something that had been siphoning its strength.
I looked at the Moirai, half-expecting them to tell me I’d chosen wrong, that I’d just severed myself from Magnur forever. But their expressions, what little I could see of them, held something that might have been approval. With entities as old as they were, who the hell knew?
“Your path is clear,” Clotho said softly. “But not easy.”
