Iliana squared her shoulders and entered the cave. A chill crawled up her back as dampness met her, so dense it made breathing difficult. Shadows contorted and slid over the slick stones. From deep within the cavern, faint drips echoed, heightening her nervousness. It seemed as if the cave itself breathed, the hollow plunk, plunk sounding like a slow, menacing heartbeat.
It’s just a cave, Iliana.
A sudden skittering noise behind her made her spin around. The entrance was now blocked by solid stone, shutting out all light and throwing her into absolute darkness. She opened her eyes wider, straining to see any sign of the exit.
“Oh, fuck me sideways.”
She forced the panic down. Fear wouldn’t help. The gods were just outside and would come get her if she didn’t return.
Probably. Unless going into the cave made her cease to exist.
“This is why you don’t leave your support gods behind, Iliana.” She imagined the four gods wearing reflective vests: ‘Do Not Pet, I’m Working’ stitched across the back. She let out a weak laugh.
Iliana extended her arms, feeling her way forward as her feet carefully tested the uneven floor with every step. Pebbles scattered as she kicked them. Her heart thundered when faint, ominous laughter resounded to her from deeper in the cave. The creepy sound made her shudder. She jerked her head to look, seeing nothing, but feeling everything. The feeling of something or someone watching her intensified.
Iliana took another step, but her foot met empty air. Her stomach jerked as she dropped, limbs flailing in panic. She came down hard on her knees, palms slapping against the stone to keep from faceplanting. The surface under her hands felt wrong. Instead of rough, wet stone, it was smooth and cool as polished marble. Warmth rolled over her, driving out the cave’s chill. She lifted her head, looking up at the sudden, piercing light. She stared.
Gold shimmered on the floor and walls, delicate inlaid patterns that looked similar to threads. She’d somehow fallen or been transported into a vast, impossible room. At the center, three women sat, each watching her as if she were a fascinating insect under glass.
The Fates.
She scrambled up and brushed herself off. “Hi. You, uh, sent for me?”
“Come here, girl.” The youngest-looking one waved her hand—impatient, dismissive.
Iliana approached, her hands opening and closing at her sides, wishing she had her dagger. But she was unarmed. Letting out a slow breath, she stopped a few steps from the sisters, resisting the urge to curtsy like an idiot.
The three sisters studied her as if she were their next tasty morsel, and only Thanatos’ lessons kept her from assuming they’d eat her.
“We will not eat you, child.”
Iliana flinched. “I—sorry, what?” She knew her face was very expressive, but she didn’t think she had a ‘please don’t eat me’ look.
The young woman with tawny-brown locks that fell to the floor grunted. “Yes, we can read your thoughts. And you do have that look. Harden yourself. There is much worse out there than the three of us.”
Iliana gaped.
A sigh came from the one in the middle, a goddess who appeared elderly, with gray hair and a silver cane. “You have broken her, Clotho. Let’s get on with it. If we toy with her for too long, she will not hear our message.”
The Fate on the left scoffed. “Attie, you don’t want the twins to hunt her down and then endure their ill humor.” She was beautiful, with dark, shoulder-length hair sprinkled with gray throughout.
“We cannot have the twins barging in either,” the young goddess said.
The first one to speak was Clotho, the Spinner. Then, Atropos, the Inflexible. That left Lachesis. It made Iliana feel a little better knowing they weren’t tricking her with their appearance.
Thanatos’ lessons surfaced.Show respect, but don’t grovel. Don’t lie—they’ll know. Don’t make demands.His teachings felt theoretical as she faced three goddesses who could end her life with a thought.
Was direct eye contact respectful—or a challenge?
Atropos vanished and reappeared behind her, placing a frail-looking hand on Iliana’s shoulder.
“We know the questions rattling in that pretty little head,” Atropos spoke. “We will give you the answers you seek about the darkness coming, but you will not like them.” The youthful giggle that left the elderly Atropos sent chills running up Iliana’s spine.
Iliana shoved aside her feelings, needing to know more, but the young goddess grabbed her attention.
“She does not need to like them,” Clotho chirped. “It is up to her to heed our warnings and make the right decisions.”
Iliana made herself ask, “Can you tell me how to break the curse? Or who cast it?”
