She ran a brush through her hair, pulling out the knots and glanced over at her sister, "You look concerned, Yio."
The other shrugged uncertainly, "Something is... Off, F'rir."
She plucked a broken strand of pink hair and dropped it, as it dissolved in the air, "That is vague of you, sister."
Yio shrugged, "I don't know what to call it. Things are different. The 'verse is weird. Like something new has happened. Something unexpected. I feel almost as if..."
F'rir's face went white. She could feel it.
"The strands of fate are moving." She said anxiously, "Rebinding, reshaping. The future is becoming its own. How? How is this possible? Is one of the celestials moving against us? No one would break the treaty... Would they?"
Yio stood up, her face flashing red, "Crap. I found the problem, and now it's mine as well."
F'rir looked at her sister blushing in confusion. Yio wasn't modest, and had taken a number of lovers throughout her indeterminably long lifespan. What could get her so bothered?
A small fragment of red caught F'rir's eye, a thread. It was moving in the air, one tendril slowly wrapping around Yio's wrist, the other end extended towards the Evening Realms.
"Don't!" Yio yelled, grabbing her attention, "Looking at the mortal was all it took."
F'rir winced, "A mortal. So this is it. The dead one's plan is in motion."
Yio nodded, grinding her jaw angrily, "I feel like a fly in a spider's web." She yanked on the thread around her wrist and shook her head, "I have no idea how to get out."
F'rir tapped her chin, "Big sister might know. It's about time the three of us prepared, anyway. The dead one can't be allowed to succeed."
YOU ARE READING
Summer Garden
FantasyTrei died. He got roasted by a mage, for trying to be a hero. Things aren't so bad. At least he didn't stay dead. Summer's life was always difficult. Her world was on the verge of war, a politician threatening to take her crown. Resurrecting Trei wa...
