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“I need to ask you some questions,” he said tersely, deliberately turning the conversation away from her undergarments.
“Okay.” Ariadne crossed to him and sat on the edge of her bed. Matt took the chair she had just liberated from its burden of laundry and sat opposite her.
“Tell me about the different roles that the Fates mentioned tonight,” he asked.
Ariadne smiled, almost like she was expecting this. “You know that the Greeks were in love with theater?” Matt nodded. “Well, the Fates were, too. They always have been. It’s almost like they see the world as a stage, and the Scions are merely their players. In a lot of prophecies, there is mention of certain roles that must be filled, or that the world is waiting to be filled, in order to complete the ‘Great Cycle’ that the Fates seem fixated on. By the way, a cycle is also another name for a series of plays that are interconnected—like the plays by Aeschylus that tell the story of the beginning of the Furies. It’s called the Oresteia.”
“Yeah,” Matt said ruefully. “I’ve read that one. Now tell me about the specific roles that the Fates mentioned tonight. Have you always known about them?”
“Yes. No one really knows what those roles mean, though. Or what the Fates intend for them.”
“How can that be?”
“Because they’re vague. Think about it. The roles are the Hero, the Shield, the Lover, and the Warrior—and seriously? That could mean any one of the Scions who have been born, since like ever. We’re a bunch of hero, warrior, lover, shield-the-weak-with-your-body kind of people,” she said, mildly exasperated with how predictable her kind were. “The only role that has specific portents attached to it is the Tyrant, and all of the Houses over the eons have been super vigilant about the signs surrounding him in order to prevent him from ever coming. But you know that prophecy already.”
“The Tyrant is born to bitterness. He bears the blood of multiple Houses and must be able to reduce all mortal cities to rubble,” Matt said seriously. He didn’t like to agree with Pallas, but Matt knew he was right. He pictured someone like Hitler with Scion strength and the ability to destroy cities just by willing it.
Matt remembered Zach asking the gang a hypothetical question once: If they had a time machine and could go back and kill Hitler before he had a chance to hurt anyone, would they do it? Even if he were still an innocent child when they went back and murdered him? They had all answered yes.
“Matt,” Ariadne said, reaching out and putting her hand over his. “Are you okay?”
“And the others, like the
Shield and . . . the Warrior,” he continued. “Those are set roles, roles that must be filled? Have these roles been there from the beginning?”
“Cassandra of Troy was the first to mention them . . . so, yeah. All of these roles have been there from the beginning.”
“And every role must be filled before this cycle can be completed and the Fates can move on to a new cycle?”
“I’ve never heard it put that way before,” Ariadne replied cautiously. Her sharp mind turned this novel idea over quickly as it shuffled through dozens of memorized bits of minutia, until finally, she nodded in acceptance. “But I suppose that’s a plausible interpretation.”
“So we’re all trapped,” Matt breathed hopelessly. “We have to play our parts or the Fates will just start over and try again with the next batch of Scions.”
Ariadne frowned in thought. “Maybe that’s why it feels like we’ve never really left Troy. Because something that was supposed to happen way back then didn’t, and the Fates keep trying to re-create it.”
Matt smiled, sternly reminding himself not to lean over and kiss her no matter how clever she was. He waited a moment until he knew his voice would be steady before talking.
“That’s what I think, too,” he said. “It’s like the Scions are stuck in an endless round of auditions as the Fates shift new actors into the same roles, looking for the right cast to make their play work.”
“But they’re the Fates. If they want something to happen, why can’t they just make it happen?”
“I don’t know,” Matt replied. “There must be some other force that moves against them. Maybe their sister, Nemesis.”
“We should tell everyone about this,” Ariadne said. “Even if they think we’re wrong.”
“I agree.”
They sat for a while, each of them pondering private thoughts. The sun was starting to come up, and Matt told himself it was time to go, even though he could have sat like that with her for days.
“Good night, Ariadne,” Matt said as he stood up.
“Where are you going?” Her luminous hazel eyes were wide and troubled.
“Home. I snuck out when Hector called me,” he said, looking anywhere but at her. “I want to be back before my parents wake up so they don’t worry. The riots really freaked them out.”
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Will you come back later? The Houses are supposed to meet here tonight.”
“I don’t know if I can,” he said. There was a ship out on the water, carrying his army closer. Matt could feel it like a phantom limb—removed but still aching. “I may have something else to take care of.”
