DRAGONS & HORSES || [d. malfoy]

iv. Depths of Hell

four.

∘₊✧─➶──𓆩𝞇𓆪──➴─✧₊∘

TO SAY THAT the Fates have been around for a long time would be a serious understatement. Since the beginning of humankind, the Fates had been watching, observing the human race silently. They watched as they picked themselves up. They watched as flames ravaged the land in times of war.

The first sister, Clotho, was responsible for spinning a beautiful golden string, representing the human life. She would smile as she did so, for human life was a beautiful thing— so short and filled with such light. Nothing could bring her the sweet satisfaction of seeing pure souls flourishing.

The second sister, Lachesis, would be responsible for determining the length of the string. How long a human would live. There would always be a frown on her face as she did so, for deciding someone's lifespan was never easy. Sometimes, it didn't even matter if one was a saint and another, the epitome of the evil. Time was time. And if fate wills it be, one would live longer than the other.

The third and final sister, Atropos... was quite different from her sisters. Her life consisted of watching as a precious life began, its golden string strong and untouchable and waiting for its light to fade and rot. When the time Lachesis had given the human was up, it was her job to cut it— ending the life they had given.

Now, she was the eldest of the three and while she was deemed the wisest, she was also the pessimist of them all. With power over the king of the gods and power over life itself, she slowly lost her interest in her job. Why, with all those baseless wars and the godly elections, it was only natural that she did, for she had walked the earth longest of them all.

Zeus, God of Thunder, King of the Gods... now he was a complicated story. Atropos cannot quite say that she particularly favored him (I'm sure you can see the reasons). Like mentioned before, she was tasked with ending the lives they had created, and often, when a mortal dies due to abnormal disturbances (such as the god's interferences), she has no choice but to do what only action was assigned to her.

Often, very often indeed, she would end the life of an innocent soul because of the gods.

It was safe to say she wasn't very fond of doing that. 

Zeus, had this belief, just like all other Olympians, that proclaimed darkness as bad and light as the only source of power they needed. So they vanquished all the shadows, no matter the cost nor the blood spilled, to sit on an unscathed marble throne. And this action, Atropos laughed upon. For didn't they know? Light only exists shining through darkness.

How much light did they think could be left if they destroyed its counterpart?

There was always one person who drew her interest though... Perceval Jackson. She was one peculiar demigoddess. The one with the brightest light on the darkest side of the coin. The thing was: unlike the other discarded heroes who cried in regret, she sat in silence in the underworld plotting her revenge. Atropos watched her carefully until she finally reached a conclusion.

∘₊✧─➶──𓆩𝞇𓆪──➴─✧₊∘

For thirteen days she fell, wrapped in shadow and silence in the darkest pits of the underworld. It was enough time for her to repent on her actions, for fury to course through her.

There were no visitors. No sound. No feeling. There was nothing there except the small figure of the demigoddess, laying in a pool of her own blood, never to die until each and every crimson droplet dried and her soul broken upon the final impact. 'Am I dead?' she wanted to ask so bad. 'Am I dead yet?'