𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐘

Chapter-13

Direcció had sustained more than five hundred wretched years. Ze was familiar with the melody the universe hummed in serenity, but the mysteries it birthed with naughtiness or careful precision often baffled him. Treading them apart was a challenge not even the author of fates could accomplish, though ze tried. Day, and again. Somedays, success was an acquaintance. Somedays, even the ones who weaved fate were left vulnerable.

But Ció benefitted from ze's instincts even if ze hadn't been victorious in unveiling such tales. Ze had felt it the day he lost him.

And right now, as ze watched the woman..Arlane wiping the caked blood dripping from her forehead with the back of her hand outside the exit of the cave, ze's instincts warned him something was miserably wrong.

She did find her way to the forests of Klepth. Direccio had seen her past. She was running from an enemy untold in words. Though this foe remained in shadows, Yeelen's lake was the insignia of eternal love even in their times. It was a riddle how her matrimonial ceremony pivoted into a blood bathe. Either, Yeelen had gone berserk or she had a vindictive agenda toward the woman in question.

Nonetheless, Arlane Florentine was in danger.

Ció was neutral towards sentiments. It was in his nature to incline as per circumstances. An unambiguous moderator was needed if ze were to form an equilibrium between Malice and Grace. The three writers of fate. Born from the same womb, yet their blood differed in traits and ancestry.

Ze was the beam in the weighing balance of Grace and Malice. Grace with long blonde hair, elegant brown eyes, and dark chocolate skin was one of a specimen as his name signified. He weaved the good facets of a person's destiny. Success, love, happiness, fulfillment, dignity, pride, and every other aspect of it.

Malice on the other hand was a woman formidable. Black long hair, and pure white skin, she was a beauty with hazel eyes but her heart was as wretched from inside. Wrath, revenge, misfortune, death, illness, betrayal, every emotion that had the capability to sliver mortals into halves begging for mercy was her territory. They didn't stray far when they claimed the devil was a woman.

Malice and Grace were polar opposites, and Direcció was the neutral foundation. While Grace and Malice decided on destinations, Direccio provided directions. When Malice was too cruel, it was ze who put things into motion so the mortal or immortal could develop a tendency to bear it. When Grace was too magnanimous, it was for ze to put an end, so growth had enough space to bloom, and none reached the point of stagnancy.

With the exception of intruding when one had already started weaving, all three authors of fates worked in peace and symphony. Intervening in each other's work after the needle had pierced the cloth of Mother Destiny on the golden circular frame was punishable by the worst means possible.

So, indeed Ció had seen what connived against the woman. Except it was not ze who tangled the day unfolding in her life. Any tradition of the Gods or Goddesses was untouched by the writers of the fates. It wasn't that they had little capacity to deter their fortune, but there needed to be a periphery between powers that ruled and powers that made them rule. The fates gave them enough discretion over their subjects but interfered when needed.

"I reckon not why this is happening," Grace analyzed beside hir.

Neither did Ció.

Her previous route was apt. The exit was far away from the mainland of the tribes in the forest. A difficult journey indeed, but with silence and constant alertness as a company in three days she'd have reached the Waters of Unsera Rivers by foot. From there, following Orion or even Aquarius's tail would lead her to Zondh Coven. Afterward, Ció would've made Malice or Grace reach a consensus. That woman had suffered enough.