Awakened - T Stoll - Percy Jackson and The Olympians.

The Strings of the Fates.

While the destiny and fate are many things, kind they are not. They are neither kind nor cruel. Good nor evil.

They are just the way they are.

Yet, as the three spindly old ladies drew a new string on August 19th, they whispered in hushed voices. The sound as delicate as sand blowing across an isolated desert.

And just like that desert, there was no one around to hear it.

No one around to hear the way they whisper and sigh. Not with surprise. For this string is unsurprising, but with a pitiful melancholy.

"Poor child." One whispers.

"She's tied to the others." Another hisses.

"They're all doomed." The last one croaks.

And yet, they watch as her string intwines with the others. Friendship, family, love.

And they know exactly when they should snip it. And they know it is short, even compared to her fellow demigods.

"A poor child indeed." The last one whispers.

"Are the shears ready?" One asks their sister.

The sister sits at the end. Looking at the golden shears and watching the way they gleam.

Beautiful, sharp and dangerous. Beauty can be found even in death. She wonders if the girl will take her death as a gift, or whether she will fight to live.

She wonders if by the time the girl's death creeps onto her back, if she will even want to live at all.

She's seen some who look for death, some who enact their death all by themselves. But they did not truly choose it.

For even as those silly mortals think they have choices, everything is planned out. Everything is written out.

For everything that should happen, will.

And yet, she holds the strings in her hands. And it feels... different. Death is in her future but it is not the end.

She has a feeling that this one is going to be interesting. She hopes that it will be.

It's been thousands of years since she's been intrigued by a life.

But as she gazes down at this string, she silently wishes the newborn the best of luck.

-

Hypnos's cloak billows in the wind as he walks through the foggy graveyard. Gazing across the headstones, names now long forgotten and Graves no longer cared for.

His eyes catch on a woman with dark curly hair and skin as light as the fog. Two black dogs curl around her ankles. She wears a dark purple Greek style dress, and holds a torch.
Letting the flames flicker through the thick fog.

"Hecate." Hypnos calls out. Walking forward. One of her dogs opens an eye lazily before going back to sleep.

The woman turns around. Her eyes a deep shade of blue and purple. Holding life's, and death's, eternal mysteries. A knowing smile tugging on her lips.

She tilts her head up. "Hypnos. It is good to see you. I am sorry it is in such unfortunate circumstances."

He walks forward. Sitting on one of the tombstones. "I presume you are well?" He asks.

Hecate sighs. The sound is a multitude of things. The sound is the noise of wind whistling through haunted woods, of magic incantations being whispered.

She looks at Hypnos. Her face is indisguinshable of emotion. She holds no opinion over what she is about to say.
"You were right."

Hypnos's heart sinks a little as he nods. "The fates are cruel." She whispers.

Hecate shakes her head. "No, it is just the way things are." She sits down. Propping the torch against a tombstone before running her hands over her dogs.

"Your daughter," She continues. "Is quite... involved. In not one war, but two." She murmurs.

Hypnos stares up at the sky, admiring the silver specks of Selene's domain.
"Will she be okay?" He asks.

Hecate is silent for a moment and Hypnos looks down. "Hecate?" He asks seriously. "This is my daughter. You have to-"

"Do not act like I do not understand." She snaps. "You think this is easy? That I am unburdened?"

She sighs. "I am merely a messenger for what I have seen. Prophecies and visions of the future is Apollo's art, and while it is still mine, I am not quite as accurate. I used magic, however."

Hypnos listens intently as she continues. "I have watched the war. I have seen deaths. Some being of my own children. Your daughter will be alright, eventually."

"Eventually?" He asks.

She stands up, the dogs around her doing the same and shifting impatiently. She walks forward. "Nos, there are some things that I cannot tell. That just need to happen. I have already make a big enough risk of telling you these things."

Hypnos nods. "I understand. Thank you. For your risk."

Hecate begins to walk away, pausing and looking over her shoulder. "Hypnos. She will have power destined to be feared by mortals, demigods and our fellow Olympians. She will be feared. Zeus will not approve of her."

Hypnos tenses up. Hands gripped at his sides. "Zeus will deal."

Hecate sighs, the fog thickens. "Just... keep your distance. She is... how do the mortals say it... In for a bumpy ride?"

As the fog closes around her, Hypnos is left alone. Mourning for his daughters inevitable painful life when it had only just begun.