Daughters of Fate Book 3 | An Original Fantasy Adventure

Epilogue

Freedom often brings with it a problem. Sometimes we don't know where to go once we are no longer bound.

Carmon Dagarth, Blood Lord

"Can I help you?" Dressed in the white woolen vestments of an acolyte, the middle-aged man rose from his seat next to a large kettle back and to the right of the main door. The coffer he attended was only minimally filled with donations intended for the completion of the new Temple of Earoni. The contributions were paltry and running well behind desired targets.

The woman his words addressed had wandered in and was taking an unusual interest in the hewn rock of the outer wall while gazing at the domed white marble ceiling overhead. There wasn't much of anything else within the walls—a blank canvas yet to have brush and paint put to it.

She was dressed head to toe in black robes with her hood pulled back to reveal equally dark hair—like the color of a raven or midnight. Or even the heavens without stars. Her presence was a stark contrast to the otherwise pristine, if empty, construction.

She didn't appear physically old. On the contrary, she seemed rather young. But the way she carried herself spoke as though she had lived an eternity. Her motions were smooth and fluid, unwilling to be rushed for any reason. She'd learned the value of patience at some point. Perhaps from the ever enduring cosmos itself.

Around her, the air seemed to spark with maleficent energy. But whether she was controlling the sensation that made the fine hairs on one's arms stand erect or not was unclear.

"Excuse me?" The steward called to her again. When she continued to ignore him he added a polite, "Miss?"

"Hmm?" There was an innocence to the response the woman gave. As though she had never even heard him or bothered to notice his presence before now.

"I asked if I could help you," he said again. His voice contained all the eagerness to do exactly that. One of the first lessons was that those who served Earoni served others.

The construction of a new temple directly on the grounds of the old house of worship in Roatsburg Lord Hedric had laid ruin to was one of High Priestess Crenst's primary orders of business. To help re-establish the Greater Goddess and the old religion that had fallen when Hitithe had. The people, she said, needed hope.

But other problems had arisen and delayed its completion over the years since the fall of the Empire.

It had taken some time to quell all the pockets of troops remaining loyal to Lord Hedric following his defeat at the Mount of Carnak. Several of the sub-generals who had served under General Nightwing had, upon hearing of her death and that of their monarch, envisioned themselves as the next ruler of the soon to be crumbling Empire.

The Second Sovereign Kingdom of Hitithe, under the rule of the High Priestess herself, had been forced to expend unwanted funds meant for this and other projects in securing the peace.

"No," the woman replied. "You probably cannot." Then she turned to him and asked innocently, "Unless you are going to take me to the Tear willingly? Which I suspect you won't."

In the woman's eyes the steward saw what could only be described as chaos. Boiling and writhing, waiting for its time to be unleashed.

After a moment of being frozen by the discord seeking to consume him, he asked, "Who are you?" Then followed up with, "Where have you come from?"

She smiled and said, "Who I am is not important. As for where I have come from? Let's just say that it is somewhere I am no longer needed."

The acolyte frowned. He detested how some people liked to play games. Although he deeply questioned whether the woman standing before him was a common person, and if she was indeed playing games. "No riddles! What does that mean?"

"It means, sir, I am not one to be trifled with." Folding her arms into the sleeves of her robes the air around the woman darkened and grew heavy. She started a deliberate march towards the rear of the empty temple. Towards the doors that led to the entrance of the inner sanctum. "Stand aside."

"No!" The steward boldly cut her off. "No one except the High Priestess may access the Inner Sanctum and the Tear. It is too powerful to allow mortals to—"

"You do not frighten me with your concerns for your fellow mortals." The energy surrounding the black clad woman grew agitated. It sparked and lept from her to the ground in fervent pulses.

"I cannot allow you to pass." He reached out to restrain her.

His fingers on her shoulder annoyed the woman in black. The energy lashed out, taking control of his muscles and sending him into a fit as his flesh burned and bubbled.

"Do you think this story has ended?" She asked, unconcerned with his obvious suffering. "Are you that naive? Just because the Tear has been returned, the Blood Lords defeated, and the Fallen Kingdoms restored? Fool! The story always continues. It's just that sometimes the characters just need to change."

The steward wrenched away and fell to the ground, his robes charred and disheveled. Weakly, he reached up a dying hand, begging once more to know. "Who are you?"

But he expired before hearing if a response would be given.

THE END

Thank you so much for reading Daughters of Fate. The journey to publishing this long since completed, rewritten, completed again, rewritten again, completed once more, rewritten once more, and on and on Fantasy Adventure has spanned thirty years of my life.

As you can tell, there is more to this story to be told. Both before Book 1 began, and after this last chapter of Book 3 has ended. However, for the time being, I am going to explore other projects. Please check out my author's page to keep abreast of what else I am working on.

Here: MathiasCavanaugh

Hopefully, some day, I'll move beyond publishing on Wattpad and be a successful writer. But, for now, I will be continuing to expand my writing portfolio here.

Thank you again.