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She allowed herself an internal groan as she lowered herself into the seat.
Wearing white robes, the Moirai were in their three-sister form that some had once called the Fates. One sister appeared old, one middle-aged, and one young, but their minds were ancient and blended among each other. When they moved together to form one being, the Moirai, their faces shifted between the ages, a very off-putting sight to behold. This had driven many mortals mad in the ancient years when they had dared to look upon them.
“Percy!” Clothos called out, her head tilted like a playful puppy. “You heeded our summons!”
Clothos was the most outgoing of the sisters, the most likely to be friendly to the Goddesses. Persephone remained sitting stiffly in the chair, but she bristled at the childish name Clothos had used for her. Persephone’s face was cold and stoic, the most natural expression, or non-expression, for her.
“I wasn’t aware I could deny,” Persephone stated blandly.
A broad smile crossed Clothos’ face and Persephone was sure it belied the trouble she was about to release onto her.
The Moirai toyed with the Goddesses as they did all things, and that smile was just another twist of the string. Although Persephone thought being sequestered to the top of the tower was enough hardship for the Moirai, she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to dole out some torment of her own from time to time. Her sisters surely did, and she assumed it was usually in frenzies of emotion.
Persephone, however, never fell to her emotions. They did nothing to move her forward or help her do her job.
“I spun the most beautiful string so very long ago…” Clothos stated fondly, her voice now soft, the childish quality almost a whisper, as if she were sharing a secret. “Then it turned black. No light escaped my beautiful string. The weave absorbed the darkness. So incredibly sad…”
Waiting patiently with her hands folded in her lap, Persephone kept her face completely indifferent.
They could go on like this for a while.
Patience, she thought and reminded herself that sometimes they were lucid enough to give her more than tiny fragments of their visions. Sometimes.
“Lachesis measured it five times before we summoned you. It was so exceptionally long, but now my beautiful string must be cut!” Clothos cried, a single tear falling down her cheek.
Persephone refrained from letting out a long, irritated sigh. She did, however, roll her eyes mentally. Clothos weeping was just a normal day at the Fates. Knowing she needed to say something before the full dramatics began, she took a breath. “Clothos, your string is a mortal’s life, and life must be cut for the mortals to remain mortal. Why am I...?”
She hadn’t finished before Atropos took her scissors, ones that seemed to be made from pure starlight, and cut the string.
A blinding light flashed for a moment, turning the entire room white, as Persephone felt the tug on her soul. A tug harder than she had ever felt.
She immediately shot up from the chair and swayed. Her body felt all the signs of a shadow portal opening and pulling at her. Panic filled her at this new sensation, as she had always controlled her shadows and the portals they held. Her eyes widened and moved to the Moirai, who stood next to the cut string. The string itself had begun to fade away as the sisters turned as one to look at Persephone. With their heads tilted in thought, they watched as Persephone’s shadows swirled around her, preparing to claim her.
“Life and death must balance!” Clothos yelled out in a sing-song voice as she did a giddy dance.
Persephone reached her hand out to hold on to the chair just as everything turned black around her.
Chapter 2
Persephone had never in her existence been forced against her will through a portal before, much less one crafted from her own power. It was extremely disorienting. Violating. Her nerves were raw, and her bones felt like they were coming out of her skin.
She watched the darkness bleed away into the dim, yellow light of the run-down hallway as the shadows dissipated around her.
Persephone’s wicked temper lowered the temperature as she took in her new surroundings. She was in what appeared to be a dilapidated motel hall.
Completely empty.
The wallpaper crumbled, exposing drywall, which in some places was water stained. The smell of mold and decay would have been overwhelming to a mortal’s sense, and she wondered if anyone actually paid to stay in a hellhole like this without some sort of nefarious purpose.
Before she could curb it, she let out a low, angry, predatory growl. In that moment, she felt mildly homicidal.
Fortunately, there weren’t any humans in the hall to hear the growl.
Unfortunately, the Moirai weren’t here either. She could really do with taking out some unholy
anger on the presumptuous beings.
Taking a deep breath, Persephone moved to push her hair out of her face but stopped when she noticed something causing resistance in her hand.
