I sigh. Resignation is the only luxury left.
Exactly what I never wanted. Precisely what I’ve been given.
• • •
Stonevale City Hallis where bureaucracy goes to die politely. A squat, stubborn building of cracked stone and faded plaster. Inside, stale coffee, ink, and quiet desperation mix. Fluorescents buzz, posters promote dated bake sales and missed tax deadlines, and the wall clock ticks with irritating slowness.
And here I thought I’d known the deepest reaches of hell.
I move down the narrow hall toward the familiar office, its door slightly ajar. Three women sit behind the counter like sentinels, their floral blouses neatly coordinated but oddly out of place, methodically rearranging paperwork without any real purpose.
The Fates themselves, who traded golden threads of destiny for the endless entanglement of mortal red tape…or at least, that’s their assignment these days. For reasons known only to them, they’ve made tormenting me their pastime. Another maddening reminder of everything I left behind.
The Act never touched them; they chose this office. The heavens are empty and Olympus is out of reach. Paperwork is all that remains.
“Only seven minutes early today, Hayden,” Constance teases. Once the spinner of destinies, she’s now content to spin me in endless circles. “Feeling unwell?” Her fingers move constantly as if they still crave thread.
My jaw tightens. Punctuality is one of the few remnants of order I still cling to.
“My apologies,” I say evenly, setting my briefcase down with deliberate precision. “I’ll correct the lapse.”
Lorraine sighs theatrically, her eyes glittering with mischief. Once the measurer of lifespans, she now specializes in gauging exactly how much bureaucratic nonsense I can withstand. “Imperfection has its charms, you know.” Her eyes flick up and down like she’s mentally taking measurements of everything…my patience included.
Agnes, eyes as sharp as the scissors she once wielded to cut mortal threads, doesn’t look up. “Charm expires,” she mutters, pen scratching against paper.
“Well,” I begin firmly, pushing the worn copy of the Act forward, “I’m here now. Let’s proceed.”
Constance and Lorraine exchange an amused glance, a silent conversation I’ve grown all too familiar with. It’s the “we have eternity, what’s your rush?” look.
“I imagineyou’dlike this done quickly,” Lorraine muses. “But you know us, Hayden. Eternity demands patience. Bureaucracy, more.”
“I’ve had centuries of patience,” I counter, flipping through the worn pages. “There must be some hidden clause. An ambiguity older than Olympus.”
Lorraine raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Trust me, dear, if such ambiguity existed, we would have uncovered it by now.”
“Maybe,” I concede, “but I can’t shake the sense you missed something.”
Agnes finally looks up, her gaze piercing. “You’ve been chasing shadows for centuries, Hayden. Haven’t you considered…letting go?”
My jaw clenches. “Letting go?” It’s just a game to them. Another endless round of amusement at my expense. If I stop tugging at the knot, I accept vanishing. And if I’m seen tugging by the wrong mortal, well. Their scissors haven’t dulled.
Agnes shrugs lightly, her voice dangerously gentle. “Accepting mortality. It might set you free.”
Free? The word tastes bitter. Freedom was never mine to begin with. Their riddles always sound like mercy, but I’ve learned better. They don’t give comfort. They nudge.
I take a steadying breath, forcing down the shadows that pulse restlessly at my feet. “It felt free until the three of you decided my eternity should consist of paperwork and absurdity.”
“Mortality is tedious,” Constance agrees mildly, folding her hands. “Welcome to the human experience.”
I shake my head. “I did not sign up for the human experience.”
My brothers so casually surrendered eternity without a backward glance. They left me alone with the Act’s aftermath, their absence cutting deeper than exile. To be forgotten by mortals was one thing. By family? Unforgivable.
Lorraine slides a sign onto the counter:Back in 10 Minutes. “Perhaps next week,” she says, pleased with herself.
I run a weary hand over my face. “Or today…”
Agnes leans back in her chair, her eyes gleaming sharply. “You’re clever, Hayden, but cleverness won’t untangle this knot. It’ll only pull it tighter.”
