Blood And Stone

Chapter 38: The Tapestry

Silken strands of various colors flew in a chaotic tangle about the room, leaving Fate overwhelmed, her thoughts beyond her control as she attempted to snatch them from the air. Strands split and changed direction, seeking the comfort of those that should not be connected to them, changing the course of lives faster than she could comprehend. Her lack of control sent an unfamiliar feeling shooting through her body, spreading from her chest like a heavy, bone-shattering weight, zipping to her stomach, fingertips, and toes with a physical pain that she had never experienced. Her fingers snatched at a thread, pulling it tightly to her chest as another cracked and whipped through the air. The end of the thread flew through the air, snapping at her cheek and freeing the blood that pooled beneath her taut skin. The pain of the wound was nothing compared to the pain that was bursting through her, the uncertainty of the unraveling of the tapestry haunting every corner of her mind. 

Unfurling her wings, Fate took to the air, her wings beating down fast and hard as she zipped around. Thread after thread burst free from its place, whipping out at her like woven blades trying to bring her down. Tears streamed down her face as she watched life after life disappear, thread after thread break and simply fall to the ground. An entire section of the Tapestry of Life was withering and breaking, falling away to leave a gaping hole where nothing but prosperity and joy should have been. She dove toward it, throwing her arms out to catch any strand that she could, allowing them to wrap around her fingers to break the skin as she desperately tried to stop them from fading. 

Blood dripped steadily from her wounds, landing on the threads to soak them completely. Fate closed her eyes, feeling the soft fibers of the thread she held in her hand. The pain that roared through her body moved like a searing heat, slicing through every muscle and rendering her completely motionless. As she entered the thread's owner, she found herself on her knees, her eyes staring through that of the mortal's, looking into the empty pits of an abomination. The skeletal hand of an innocent young Yoran girl clamped hard around her throat, squeezing the last few drops of air from her. The little girl had been sweet, a kind, caring young girl that enjoyed some fishing in the woods. Her biggest mistake was being unaware of the evil that swam in the veins of he limping old man she had trusted far too easily. 

Her view of the city of Yora was only skewed by the army of death that flowed through the streets. Streaks of bony warriors dashed around, leaving slimy trails of deep sea filth in their wake. The thundering of large hooves broke her vision of the corpses as they moved, a huge horse ran past her, the wind blowing her hair away from her eyes. Attached to the back of the horse was a man, his hands and legs solidly held in place as though they had become part of the animal's saddle. He pulled, yanking his torso away from the animal as hard as he could. He moved so desperately that the sound of his arms releasing from their sockets overtook the power of his terror-filled scream. Chaos erupted around her as the dead took the life of those who refused to join them. Those easily persuaded were thrown upon the backs of the Bäckahäst creatures and escorted to their deaths in the sea, only to remerge as warriors under the disturbed rule of the little girl. 

Fate shook herself free from the thread, letting it fall to its resting place as the eyes of the mortal closed for good. Her mind came alive with the buzzing of the horrific truth she had just seen. Torvir's power had grown to unimaginable heights, allowing him to freely take the soul of anyone he wished, and even reanimate the dead. The depths of his madness knew no bounds. The scales were tipping further and further in his favor as the city of Yora fell, taking thousands of innocent souls with it. Her fingers ran through her hair, pushing it away from her face as she struggled to comprehend what was unfolding in the mortal realm. 

"What is troubling you, sister?" War's voice reached her ears sounding soft and filled with something dark and heavy. It was enough to break her concentration and pull her attention to the figure standing before her. War's eyes danced over the fraying tapestry, watching as soul after soul fell to Torvir's hand, the strands losing their colorful glow as they fell. The anger rose from her stomach and burned in her throat, threatening to smother her resolve and give way to a flurry of expletives.