Spells of Old Snippet

I must stress this is part of the Prologue, the entire first segment, and has not undergone full editing. That said…


Prologue

Fate reached out and laid his hand gently on the tapestry. Before him laid the tangled lives of mortals and immortals alike, woven together in a breathtaking tapestry that few others could even begin to comprehend. Only his own lady could truly comprehend the breathtaking depth of the tapestry that was slowly weaving itself before his eyes.

Each thread possessed its own purpose, no matter how short it might be. Some threads were those of infants stillborn, their threads cut short almost as quickly as they’d begun, but impacting the fate of their family in spite of that. Other mortal threads were long or short, as seemingly insignificant threads touched on dozens of others. Those of dragons, gods, and other beings of power were still longer, and touched on countless lives that they impacted. Greater still were the threads of the primal gods, those which formed the edges of the tapestry, giving it form and solidity.

But it was a single, seemingly insignificant thread that he gently plucked. And at his pluck, the thread shone a bright gold through the entire weave, and the Destiny of that thread appeared in his mind, causing Fate himself to shiver. He looked back through the thread, at the countless lives that the thread had touched. How the thread passed through the devastation of the Godsrage itself, into the ancient past of the world, and saw where the ancient magic had once touched that thread ever so gently and changed its path.

“What troubles you?” A resonant voice spoke in Fate’s mind unexpectedly. The voice was rich with power, echoing in Fate’s very bones.

“She does, My Lady. I still find myself surprised that you allowed the royalty to cast that spell.” Fate replied aloud, his voice soft as he looked on that thread. “They changed the very weave of Destiny with that spell.”

“No, they did not.” The voice of the Timekeeper was calm, almost complacent as the primal deity who watched over Fate gazed on the weave.

“How did those mages not change the weave? She was destined to die in that tomb, My Lord. It was her destiny.” Fate protested, touching the slight change to the weave, when a single repositioned rock had led a prospector into an ancient cavern.

“Because Time is not written until it has happened, Fate.” The Timekeeper’s voice spoke, and the word caused reality itself to ripple around Fate, as though the multiverse itself stood still in awe for a bare moment.

“But-” Fate took a moment, trying to speak, but was forestalled by his lady.

“We set up Time and Destiny, Fate. We watch over it, and keep it from being damaged.” The Timekeeper’s voice rippled time and the tapestry itself for a moment, but her voice was gentle. “But it is the privilege of all mortals to remake their destinies, should they have the power and ability to do so. And for all that has occurred, she who is now known as Sistina did not have a hand in what has happened. Now she is mortal, yet immortal, and her future is her own to shape. Let her go.”

Fate paused for a moment, tempted to break the strand that stood out for a long moment. But at last he bowed his head and let go of that unimaginably ancient thread, looking over past a point where the thread could possibly break on its own, then potentially stretching out even longer than his own. And Fate replied softly, letting out a faint sigh. “As you say, My Lady.”

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