-Serenity-
There exists a place that is not quite a place—a space that could not be described as space, a point that exists far beyond the aetherial planes where celestial attendants dance, further even from the worlds of mortals, a point that is time yet has no time, a point of being that the Gods call, Aevum.
Within the temporal shrouds of Aevum hangs a luminous tapestry of existence that stretches infinitely. And charged with overseeing this ineffable thing of fate, was the Goddess Klotho. The youngest of three divine sisters, each of whom held the fateful threads of the universe in their ethereal hands.
Klotho's whole being was dedicated to weaving the threads of life and death, for it was decreed that she, and she alone, would hold dominion over the moment when mortal souls would breathe their first breaths and, if she willed them to be, be granted another chance at life—rebirth.
But truthfully, the powers she wielded were as mercurial as the tapestries she wove.
Klotho's touch was capricious and unpredictable—which caused misgivings and sorrow in many worlds. The denizens of which cried out and prayed at their misfortunes.
Gods of all pantheons knew the name Klotho and associated it with calamity and tragedy.
Klotho lamented her own fate, which seemingly existed outside of her control. A fate she thought was crueler than those who blamed her for their hardships.
Her sisters, Lachesis and Atropos, held mastery over the threads of destiny and mortality, and they did not hesitate to blame Klotho for the strife her fickle powers sowed among the realms.
The divine pantheons, assemblies of gods and goddesses who presided over the cosmos, grew weary of Klotho's perceived negligence.
They turned their backs on her, throwing accusations that she was purposefully bringing discord to the worlds.
Their divine voices rose as they decreed her punishment.
Exile from the heights of Aevum.
The Gods appeased themselves with the thoughts of her presence being removed from their vicinity. If she was unable to spin the threads of fate, misfortune would disappear with her.
And so, Klotho found herself cast out in the infinite expanse of Aevum. Forever cursed to wander aimlessly, barred from returning to the divine sanctum of the Gods.
Though time had no meaning in Aevum, it did flow in the realms below. And years began to pass.
No longer did her sisters seek her counsel.
Not that I cared for the way they belittled me when they did.
No longer did her hands sway the destinies of mortals.
Not that I truly had control over their destinies to begin with.
She had been cast aside, labeled a wayward deity.
I never enjoyed the company of other gods, what am I missing?
She had been labeled as a pariah, blamed for the troubles that had befallen the realms.
I’ve never belonged with the others from the start.
And before long Klotho had been adrift for over ten thousand years, with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.
During those thousands of years, however, the divine pantheons witnessed the consequences of their actions in the worlds they governed.
Without Klotho’s steady hand, no new life could be born into these worlds.
At first, many gods and goddesses were overwhelmed by the decline of souls in need of judgment, guidance, and purpose.
But it was just a curse levied upon themselves.
In just a few hundred years, many worlds were devoid of mortal life. War, famine, or plague had wiped out struggling populations.
The cosmic balance wavered.
Therefore, two decrees were made to the remaining sisters by the pantheons.
Atropos was banned from severing the life of any mortals, and Lachesis could never instigate a feud that would lead to any deaths.
Soon some of the worlds the Gods watched over began to forge destinies contrary to the gods' intentions. Civilizations flourished. They began to advance their philosophies and their technologies.
Mortals, now effectively immortal, claimed the Gods to be dead. And they no longer built shrines and temples. They no longer prayed.
And the powers of the Gods waned.
Amidst their growing dissatisfaction, the Gods convened in an inner sanctum made of aetherial stardust.
Once again, they blamed all their woes upon Klotho, Goddess of Fate.
Celestial attendants were sent out in every direction to search the depths of Aevum. Their mandate was simple.
“Find the Evil Goddess, Klotho. Shackle her and deliver her to us to face Justice.”
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Deep within a scintillating sea of stars that seemed to stretch endlessly before her, Klotho wandered alone through the vast cosmic expanse.
Having been exiled by the pantheons and blamed for every instance of chaos that had occurred in the realms, she was having trouble bearing the burden of this newfound solitude.
Tiny specks of starlight shone all around her like distant beacons. Their brilliance, she thought, was a stark contrast to the gnawing void that consumed her mind.
Klotho's once-glorious alabaster white robes of divinity had changed. The vicious storm of emotions within her dyed the divine raiment a light-consuming black.
Her once radiant eyes, brimming with the power of creation and fate, had dulled. Now pools of sorrow which reflected the inky darkness that surrounded her.
As she trudged her way through the cosmic expanse, her steps were weighed down by the immense feelings of isolation and sorrow.
Her divine footsteps echoed with the ghostly memories of worlds she had once touched, destinies she had once woven. But now, the universe was indifferent to her presence—the threads of fate just an enigmatic tapestry, always beyond her reach.
Only her thoughts accompanied her.
She had begun to speak to herself often, though her words were lost in the vast emptiness.
“A thousand years… How long am I to bear this endless solitude? Am I a goddess, or nothing more than a wretched wanderer?”
I am a shadow of my former self, she mused in the quiet corners of her mind.
“Once I held the power to weave the threads of life or prolong death. Now, I can barely hold the threads of my mind together!” The forlorn goddess screamed, her voice cracking in desperation.
There was no response to her wails. There never was.
The memories of her exile were a constant torment. She replayed the accusations of the other gods and goddesses in her mind, the blame for the chaos she hadn't caused.
“I was not at fault,” she muttered, her voice filled with bitterness. “I tried to tell them, begged them to accept that it was not my doing. But they refused to listen.”
Klotho sighed.
The passage of time continued.
Through the cosmic expanse, the heavenly bodies became her only friends. But even the stars, while offering their silent beauty, provided no real solace for her lonely heart.
The concept of time itself had become a cruel tormentor. "Ten thousand years," she whispered, her voice shaking with anguish. "A mere blink in the eye of the universe, but an eternity in the heart of one abandoned."
She knew that time was not passing for her—no one in Aevum felt the passage of time. But she knew time would pass in the realms of mortals, and somewhere deep in her heart, there was an aching.
Certain thoughts consumed her mind recently.
Klotho's grasp on her own identity had grown fragile. She had a harder time distinguishing the boundaries between her divine nature and her mortal-like despair. She longed for the company of her divine kin, the laughter of her celestial sisters, and the camaraderie of the pantheon.
The memories of why she had been exiled had blurred.
The memories of how the others had treated her had faded.
“Was my punishment deserved?”
Her question was a desperate plea to the cosmic void.
“What was it that made them cast me aside? I miss the warmth of their presence, the feeling of belonging to something greater.”
The depths of Aevum continued to stretch infinitely.
“I am a goddess of fate,” she whispered to the stars, her voice fading into the cosmic void. “And yet, my own destiny is a cruel paradox. Alone, adrift, and forgotten…”
And then there was a new light. Noise that came not from her, but from something else—someone else.
It was a moment both unexpected and surreal, the faint shimmer of movement in the unending cosmic sea. A band of celestial attendants, their forms radiant and ephemeral, descended upon her like specters of the heavens. Their ethereal essence was the embodiment of divine servitude, for these attendants, bound by cosmic contract, upheld the will of the Gods in the myriad realms.
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Klotho could not be certain that these newly appeared beings were not just apparitions of her mind. Her loneliness made manifest.
But as they encircled her, their collective presence became a shimmering wall of celestial energy. She felt herself drawn to their will, powerless to resist their influence.
“Klotho,” One of the attendants intoned with a voice like the ringing of chimes, “You will come with us. You’ve caused enough harm to the realms, and must now face justice.”
Her gentle-sounding words acted as a command that echoed through the cosmic void.
Klotho's vision, blurred by the tears of her solitude, refocused on the attendants. She was shackled by their aetherial magicks that shimmered like liquid starlight, binding her wrists and ankles in iridescent chains.
Bound and encircled, her blurry memories whipped through her mind. The knowledge was fragmented, but she knew she had not been welcome in the sanctum.
She knew that if she was taken back there, she would be hurt even further.
“Please let me be,” she pleaded, her voice quivering with desperation. “I cannot return. I am an outcast, a shadow of my former self. I can bring only chaos to the realms.”
The celestial attendants masked their expressions and remained steadfast in their mission. With synchronized movements, they hoisted Klotho into their arms and began their ascent to the heights of Aevum.
The goddess, shackled and powerless, could only gaze back at the endless sea she had dwelled as it faded into obscurity.
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The sanctum, a place crafted of shimmering stardust and resplendent divine architecture, was the domain of the gods and goddesses who watched over the worlds. It was a place of divine judgment and deliberation, and it was there that Klotho, the exiled Goddess of Fate, was made to face her cruel fate once more.
As they entered the sanctum, the celestial attendants presented their shackled charge to the pantheon.
The gods and goddesses, their regal forms arrayed in celestial splendor, looked upon Klotho with a mix of revile and judgment.
I am a prisoner in a realm of my own making, and now a captive of my own kind, she thought bitterly.
Klotho struggled to her feet, “I am to be judged again, by those who once cast me aside. What awaits me now, after ten thousand years of isolation?”
Her bitter voice echoed in the hallowed hall.
One by one the gods and goddesses, their own voices echoing through the sanctum, questioned her actions and her motives. Many decried her blackened garments as all the proof they needed that she was evil.
They blamed her for things she had no insight into.
A rebellion of celestial attendants who had imprisoned their own Gods and split their realm’s connection from Aevum.
The celestial attendants, entrusted with upholding the divine will in the realms, had revolted. In an aetherial plane distant from the pantheon's gaze, these attendants had overturned their divine overseers, and seized the threads of fate and destiny tied to their realm, believing they could weave a better future.
The Gods initially turned their wrath upon the attendants, but the blame for the ensuing chaos fell upon Klotho. In their judgment, her supposed abandonment had allowed this rebellion to fester unchecked.
The divine pantheon declared her an "Evil God," a true pariah in the divine hierarchy.
To reinforce their decision, Klotho was blamed for the ensuing chaos that had taken root in the realms below while she had been in exile. Entire worlds of mortals had shunned the Gods and were reaching beyond the stars.
The God’s divine judgments were harsh and unyielding, and cast her in the role of the malevolent deity—Klotho was the root of all evil. The originator of chaos.
“Was my punishment not enough?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the celestial deliberations. “Must I now be branded as an Evil God?”
Iridescent tears stained her cheeks.
She knew that it was not her abandonment of duties that wrought all the chaos in the beginning, it was the failure of other Gods who did not guide or assist the mortals in their times of need.
Whatever had happened with that group of celestial attendants, was probably chaos that they inspired themselves. How could she, adrift in exile, have influenced their actions?
As the fixed trial raged, Klotho knew her fate no longer hung in the balance. Shackled and forlorn, she awaited the final verdict she knew was coming.
The sanctum would bear witness to the culmination of her divine odyssey, a journey fraught with isolation and despair.
Klotho’s divinity was severed, and she was banished from Aevum. Her power over Fate was expected to be reclaimed by the pantheons, and a new god or goddess would take the mantle.
She had been exiled anew, her presence to one day be forgotten.
And Klotho awaited the dreadful moment when her existence would fade away. Her heart was filled with trepidation as to what would become of her essence, her sense of self.
But that moment never came.
Instead, Klotho found herself in an endless void—much like the sea of stars she’d spent so much of her time while exiled.
But this new void was a true void.
Devoid of stars or any other source of light.
It felt familiar in some ways, and unsettling in others.
This place called to her as if it was her home, but hadn’t yet been built. Klotho knew instinctively that she could twist and bend this place to her will, if she’d wanted to.
And so, she weaved her fingers through the aetherial space, as she knew to do, and formed the first thing she thought of. Something she longed for.
A brilliant star, bright and warm, came into existence. It dazzled her, bathing her skin in the color she’d loved the most, violet.
She looked lovingly at the sphere of light, and a new spark ignited within her dull and sorrowful eyes. They reflected back the light of the star, her star, and shined like polished amethysts.
Klotho wondered what else she could bring about in her new home, and eventually, a large sphere of rock and dirt orbited her star.
She smiled at her new little world and began to add in water and assortments of bright and lovely plant life that she had only seen through the distorted gleams into mortal souls, but quickly the water turned to ice and the plants withered away.
The goddess frowned, cursing her lack of knowledge of the inner workings of creating a world. Many Gods in her past had bragged about how great their worlds and realms had been.
If only she knew what was missing, she wouldn’t be alone anymore. If she knew how to create a world, Klotho could fill it with mortals who loved her.
She pushed forward, trying to add molten rocks to her world to keep it warm but they would eventually grow cold. She noticed that whatever side of her world was facing her star, would stay warm for some time—but once it no longer was exposed, it would lose all the heat.
Klotho tried keeping her world from turning, but that just caused one side to be too hot while the other was too cold.
“What am I doing wrong!?” She lamented.
As during her ten thousand years in exile, she did not expect a response.
But, a response did come.
A feminine voice called in return from somewhere in the darkened void behind her, “You’re lacking the airy gases that trap in the heat and diffuse the air living things need to breathe.”
“Who’s there?” Klotho called out in surprise, “If you’ve come to accuse me or slander me, I don’t want to hear it! I’ve already been cast out, please… just leave me alone!”
There was a silence that lasted for a long time, but the silvery voice did eventually respond.
“I don’t know who may have come before, and I don’t quite understand the implications behind your wariness. But I am not here to cause you any more grief. May I come closer to you? I felt your presence in this space and I wished to know more about you.”
The unexpected visitor’s voice sounded sincere, and Klotho desired a friendly person’s company more than anything else in the entirety of existence. So she agreed immediately, “Yes! You may come to me.”
Rather than being so far away in the void that the light from her star had not lit up her visitor, the visitor had instead been cloaked in a blanket of empurpled magick—effectively shielding her from view through a trick of stealth.
A shimmer of magick, like that of the celestial attendants—though a strange orange color that Klotho had never seen—faded around the visitor, revealing her form. She was unlike any being Klotho had ever seen. Odd in appearance compared to any mortal race she knew, and different from any celestial attendant she’d encountered.
The visitor had a pale pink-beige skin tone and pinkish hair, that almost seemed like a shade of light purple. Atop her head were golden horns that arched up along her head and curled down towards her pointy ears.
Large black leathery wings flanked her body, extending out from somewhere near her spine between the shoulders. And a slender tail snaked down her between her legs, moving through the air in anticipation.
“You can call me Ophi,” The visitor started, “And we’re something akin to neighbors, I believe they say.”
“I’m glad to meet you, Ophi. My name is…”
The ex-Goddess of Fate trailed off. Was she Klotho? She was no longer a member of the pantheons, and no longer a goddess—or was she?
This little world and the beautiful star she had created implied otherwise.
But she no longer wanted to be tied to a name that held the disdain of others. The banished and exiled failure, Klotho, was no longer her.
She wished to live out her life, however long that would be now if not infinite, in peace. Away from the squabbles of Gods and mortal realms beyond her control.
“My name is Serenity.”
Serenity smiled. A mix of emotions she didn’t realize were raging in her heart, stilled. And for the first time in over ten thousand years, she felt happy.
Ophi introduced herself further, and elaborated on what she meant by “neighbors”.
She was a “newborn”, for lack of a better term. Gods weren’t born the same way as mortals. They didn’t grow up the same way or have to study and learn certain things.
All new Gods had an innate knowledge of whatever it was they were created to do—just as Serenity had always known how to weave the threads of fate the way she did.
When it came to doing something outside their domain, such as the overbearing expectations laid atop the newly born Goddess of Fate millennia ago or Serenity’s attempts at world creation, they would have to learn how to do that that scratch.
Ophi didn’t know what she was the goddess of, exactly.
She didn’t exist one moment and the next, there she was lying in a crater of rock and dirt on a world she had no knowledge of.
Her first memory was of her powers being so immense that she caused a massive discharge of both divine energy and magick that sprang hundreds of strange beings into existence along with her.
Since they were on a world already inhabited by other mortals, hostilities ensued and she had to fight back against those mortals to keep herself and her strange new companions safe.
Once Ophi had gained control over her powers, she managed to take her companions to a place identical to the space Serenity was occupying.
“Double the size of your world—actually, no, triple it.” Ophi told Serenity, “At that size, it will be massive enough to keep hold of all the gases you make. After that, the air will retain the heat from your star and you won’t have to see your pretty little flowers wither and die anymore.”
Serenity did as instructed and within a short time, she had rivers, lakes, and oceans of liquid water flowing all through her world.
“We did it! I can’t believe it, we actually did it.”
Serenity rushed Ophi, embracing the fledgling goddess in a great hug. Serenity could feel warmth radiating out from beneath Ophi’s skin and after having struggled for so long without physical contact, Serenity began to weep.
Iridescent light streaked down her cheeks as she held Ophi tight.
“Waah! I’m so glad you found me!” Serenity cried, “I don’t know how long I would have struggled before falling into despair.”
Ophi’s hand gently patted Serenity’s back.
“I’m glad to have found you too. Though, it kinda feels like I gained another daughter instead of a new neighbor.”
Serenity’s neck pulled back, “You have a daughter?”
“I do,” Ophi chuckled lightly, “You and she are very similar it seems.”
Serenity’s face flushed red with heat, embarrassed at how she, the goddess who’d lived over ten thousand years, had acted so immature as to be compared to a relatively newborn goddess’ daughter.
When Serenity had calmed down and was reinvigorated to continue her efforts on world creation, Ophi said her farewells.
“If you focus on me and really mean it, I’ll know you’re trying to get my attention and I’ll come by when I can. It works the other way around, but until you get the hang of phasing through the plans it would be safer if I visited you instead.”
The two goddesses shared one more hug, at the behest of Serenity, and Ophi blipped out of the aetherial space.
I’m going to create a beautiful world that is full of the nicest and prettiest things, Serenity thought to herself with a smile growing on her face. And then, maybe I’ll make my own daughter—oh, well I guess I don’t know how to do that.
Serenity paused, and then her smile grew even wider. Because she knew within her powers, remained the ability to grant a soul another life. The power to reincarnate them.
I don’t have to make a new daughter, I can save a soul from the terrible cycle of Fate instead.
With determination raging in her heart, Serenity created a human body for her daughter. A delicate and beautiful one with eyes like hers, in the violet that warmed her heart and lit up the skies of her paradise-like world.
Serenity looked down at her golden locks that contrasted against the dark raiment she wore and frowned.
There is nothing evil about this color. I’ve grown quite fond of it.
And with that thought, Serenity ran her fingers through her soon-to-be daughter’s hair and it was washed in a raven black.
Serenity ran a gentle finger through the threads of fate, and plucked out the most beautiful and vibrant soul there was.
The soul looked like a sea of rainbows, and iridescent light cascaded all around the cozy sanctum Serenity had created to house them.
“I bet your life was hard, but look how hard you struggled to keep going. I’m sorry there was nothing I could’ve done in the past. From now on I hope only good things happen to you. My new life. My Eve.”