She slammed the book shut before placing it where she had originally found it; lodged between two other dusty books on one of the never-ending shelves in the old, dusty library. She walked out of the large doors, wrapping the robe around herself as she glanced back at the door as the carved flowers joined together. The locking process was one of the many things that that she had become acquainted with over the past few centuries.
She swept down the white marble steps. Her frosted left hand gripped the cold crystal railing as her right hand kept her frayed broad hat in place. It was windy tonight. Windier than it had ever been on any of her trips with Beauty. The bushes had been replaced with thin blackened sticks pointing out of the ground, and the night sky was filled with disruption and nightmares instead of the lullabies she was used to hearing.
He was the only other one who they allowed to take her out of her isolated home. He was the only one who could mask the truth from her.
And everything was different without him.
The only birds which sang were the owls. The ravens had flew away as soon as the door had closed.
She knew where they were going. To tell the others, and then they would come and lock her back in, like they always did.
But not today. Today she would escape.
If only the line had been hers to draw. Then she would have left them with their order and their restrictions. Instead, she would have what she had been promised since the day she came into being.
But the line was never her's to draw. And it never would be. It belonged to both Fate and Destiny and it always would.
Fate and Destiny worked in mysterious ways that even she had limited understanding of. From the complexity of the path Destiny had placed everyone on, the way Fate shaped the how every soul had been intertwined with others through light and dark to the way Chaos and Beauty followed their every command.
They told her that she still had so much to learn before she could even compare herself to any of the four of them. That she needed to rear in her mind in before she let the sentiment build its fortress of empathy, which would never stop growing once it lay its foundations. She belonged in the library. It was her domain. The same way the rest of the world belonged to them, and Chaos and Beauty had only what they were given.
But who knew better than Wisdom, herself?
