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“I felt,” Hera stated slowly, opening her electrified hands. Persephone tensed next to him. “A God awakening.”
Before anyone could respond, Hera clapped her hands together, and the room went white.
***
Another forced jump. Persephone was ready to murder her sister. Righting herself, she realized they were no longer in the study — they were standing before the Moirai.
A very pleased looking Moirai.
A very angry looking Hera stood in front of the Moirai, facing off with them while her, Devon, and Amphitrite got their bearings.
“Oh, Hera! How sweet of you to visit us little old biddies!” Clothos gleefully greeted as the
other Moirai sisters chittered enthusiastically.
Persephone knew her sister was not truly Hera right now, but the Goddess. She also knew her power could level the building if the Moirai wards hadn’t dampened it. Previous errors in judgment had shown her to be powerful enough to bring down entire cities should she become enraged enough. Even still, diminished power sparked around Hera.
“What have you post-menopausal hags done now?” Hera demanded through clenched teeth.
Her presence seemed to swallow everything around her, making the air go static.
The Moirai chittered, which only managed to enrage Hera further. Upon seeing her sister losing herself to her rage, Persephone stepped forward.
“How? Why?” Persephone asked the Moirai. She did not demand as a Goddess might have but looked to them for actual guidance. She had held onto her calm demeanor while caring for Devon, but now that they stood before the Moirai, Persephone was desperate for answers. The man she’d made immortal was undeniably more.
Devon stepped up to her side, catching Clothos’ attention.
“You were one of my favorite strings!” she gushed, beaming at him with the wide eyes of an
adoring fan.
“Uh, thanks?” he muttered, staring at the Moirai in confusion.
“Not now, Clothos,” Persephone snapped and tightened her hands into fists. “Answer me.”
Devon put his hand over one of her fists, giving it a squeeze, and the Moirai collectively purred at his gesture. At the sound, he immediately released her hand and stepped back a little.
Clothos stood from her throne and walked calmly to Persephone, blithely ignoring the fierce anger emanating from Hera. Putting her hand to Persephone’s cheek, Clothos looked deeply into her eyes. Persephone felt human in this moment, unsure of her path, more now than she ever had—lost to her fate just as the mortals who roamed the earth along their minuscule timelines.
“Balance, my sweet,” Clothos said in her lilting voice. “This is needed to succeed in the battle ahead. Time will tell you all you need to know, for this cannot be forced along any faster than fate itself. Difficulties that can no longer be moved by you alone are building in size and strength. You, and your sisters, must overcome but are not alone in this anymore. The balance, it will help to put everything right again when everything has gone terribly wrong. This, your fates, will correct the wrongs done to this world.”
Clothos glanced between Persephone’s eyes searchingly and released a breath. Smiling, she stepped away and returned to her throne, releasing Persephone from her gaze’s hold.
Seated, the Moirai looked closely at the three sister Goddesses, as if sizing them up for a fast- approaching challenge.
“What does that mean?” Devon asked, his hands in his pockets.
“It means they have no fucking idea,” Hera seethed.
“It means that this is all meant to balance,” Clothos reiterated.
“How?” Amphitrite stepped forward finally, moving between Hera and Persephone. “How does awakening a new God balance us? Does it not throw us into chaos if we are splitting our powers into fourths?”
The Moirai looked at each other, their eyes wide, before they looked back at the Goddesses.
“There was never just three of you, my darling Amphitrite,” the Moirai responded in unison. Devon muttered under his breath, something that sounded like “creepy.”
The theatrics only agitated Hera more. Persephone almost felt bad for the Moirai in that moment. Almost.
