The Moirai did as they always done, spinning out the thread of the life of man, followed their steps, and directed the the consequences of his actions according to the counsel of the gods. It was they who at the helm of necessity, directed fate, and watched that the fate assigned to every being by eternal laws might take its course without obstruction; and Zeus, as well as the other gods and man, had to submit to them.
The Moirai did not usually interfere in human affairs, not absolutely, but only conditionally, even man himself, in his freedom was allowed to exercise a certain influence upon them. And they had not been content with the tapestry of the Heroic Age nor where they fond of the tapestry that Iron Age was beginning to show. The mortals no longer felt shame or indignation at wrongdoing; babies being born with gray hair and the gods will have completely forsaken humanity.
Twas easy to see how Kronos had managed to manipulate it to his liking as the mortals lie and kill in the service of liars and killers.
Klôthô sat in front of her spindle, making a copy of the newly redone tapestry and unwoven the threads. Her eyes were unfocused, imagery of necessity overtaking her mind and showing her what else they could do to fix the Iron Age.
"Klotho ," Atropos called stilling her sister's hand. "What are you doing?"
She blinked slowly looking at them absently. "We must fix fate, sisters. The godlings have given us a mighty boon. We must fix the timeline and fill in the holes. Listen to the whispers of inevitability."
And while the three sisters plotted... the Twelve Children of Castellan fell to the ground as if they were mere puppets with clipped strings.
Their parents sequestered them away for healing yet they never woke.
Time moved on as the children slept.
Until one day...
The Siblings of Swords awaken their world followed the path of destiny right afterwards.
|end|
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