Steph didn’t miss the beeps and whirs of the hospital equipment, but the silence of the hospice room was even harder to bear. At least at the hospital there had been hope—she had clung to it like a life raft—the idea that there could still be some sort of miracle, that her father, Clark Bennett, might yet pull through. Steph’s father’s decline with aggressive lung cancer had been sharp and jarring to the whole family.

She was all cried out already. It had been less than a month since they got the bad news: The treatments had failed. The cancer won. Her father was a husk of his former self at this point. The chemotherapy, surgeries, and cancer combined to take away everything that made him her father. He was no longer present apart from small moments that were becoming less and less frequent.

Sleep or delirium was constant; food and water intake, rare. He was withering away and there was nothing Steph could do. Nothing anyone could do. Steph listened to his unconscious, labored breathing, afraid it might stop at any moment.

The lack of awareness on her father’s part was a blessing. The pain of being awake had become too much for him to bear. Everyone was simply waiting for him to die at this point, and Steph was not okay with any of it. The inevitability of his death put a pit in her stomach. Part of her was still holding on for a miracle, but the sympathetic expressions on all the nurses’ faces hammered home the reality of the situation.

Steph was going to lose her dad. It hurt too much to even think the words.

Her mother, Lori, was asleep in the chair by her father’s bedside, her hand clasped around his pale fingers. Everyone was exhausted by the emotional toll of the move to hospice.

Steph couldn’t sleep, though she hadn’t had more than a few hours of rest in the last several heart-wrenching days. She was seated in a chair across from her father’s bed, with her feet up, legs bent, and her chin propped upon her knees. She didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away as her dad shuddered in his sleep and let out a wheeze. Time was short, but already there was no joy left.

“Stephanie….” A tiny whisper caught her attention.

She thought it was her mom at first, but she was still sleeping.

“Down here, Stephanie,” whispered the voice again. It was coming from beneath her father’s bed….

Steph’s eyes grew wide. The fine hairs on the backs of her arms stood up as she lowered her gaze, but it was too dark to make out anything. She strained her eyes, searching the shadow.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” the tiny voice squeaked.

“Am I asleep?” Steph whispered back, perplexed.

“Oh, no, no. You are very much aware.”

Steph rubbed her eyes before focusing back on the shadow. This time, she could just barely make out a pair of eyes, reflecting back a little bit of light. The eyes were spaced at about the distance of a house cat’s—a tiny head on a tiny body.

“My name is Nona,” said the shadow.

Steph stared back at the eyes, too frightened to respond.

“I am a Fate,” continued the creature within the darkness. “I know the future, but in order to get there, I need you to do something for me.”

Steph narrowed her eyes. “You know the future?” she asked.

“Yes, my dear.”

Her mind leapt to the only question that mattered. “What’s going to happen to my dad?” she asked immediately.

“You already know the answer to that,” said Nona. “He’s going to die. Tonight.”

Steph did know, but she wished she didn’t. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I already told you, I need you to do something for me… well, for your father, really. It’s simple. I need you to give him some water.”

Steph blinked several times, confused.

“Just pick up that glass over there and pour a little bit into his mouth.”

Steph was hesitant, but she stood up from her seat and obediently approached the bedside. She picked up the glass of water from the side table and lifted it up to her father’s slightly parted lips, all the while internally questioning her sanity.

“Good, good,” said Nona. “Just pour a little in.”

Her dad’s emaciated body accepted the hydration, making small swallowing motions every couple of seconds.

“Keep going,” said Nona.

Steph’s wrist wobbled, pouring slightly faster than before. Her dad sputtered, still unconscious as he choked. Steph pulled away as the choking turned into convulsions. She backed up all the way to her chair.

Her mother woke up as her father’s convulsions worsened. Tears streamed down Steph’s cheeks as she searched for the eyes under the bed, but Nona was gone. Or perhaps the creature was never there to begin with. Regardless, the telling came true. Steph’s father did not survive the night.

***

Steph had nearly forgotten all about her visit from the Parca. At the time, she’d chalked the experience up to stress and lack of sleep. All of it, especially her father’s death had felt very surreal at the time. It still didn’t feel real, but the loss had settled in more now, months later.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Standing in front of the shapeshifter in Josie’s garage was bringing it all back to her now. The bright blue eyes of her father stared back at her.

“Please, water,” it begged.

Steph glanced around the garage. Everyone else was fretting over Channie and her panic attack.

Steph wasn’t prepared for this.

Seeing the shapeshifter look like her had been terrifying enough. Her father’s strong arms appeared to be lashed excruciatingly tight with the rope Mr. Mays and Mrs. Davis had fashioned around the creature.

“Please, baby,” cried her father’s voice.

Steph felt her hands uncap a water bottle. Her feet brought her closer despite the danger. She was repeating her trauma, her body coached by her past actions.

“Yes, please… I’m so thirsty….” The shapeshifter opened its mouth in anticipation.

Steph felt compelled to oblige. As she poured the water into its desperate mouth, her mind flashed back to the voice under her father’s hospice bed. She’d thought she’d made it up—that it was just her imagination running away with her—until recent events made her reassess everything.

She knew it wasn’t her father sitting before her now, but she couldn’t help but feel compassion for the shapeshifter’s plight. It didn’t stop gulping down the water until the bottle was completely empty. Steph backed away.

“Thank you,” it said.

“Guys!” cried Rebecca from across the garage. “Something strange is going on outside, it looks like the sky is falling!” She pointed out through the tiny window at the top portion of the garage door and up into the air.

Steph glanced away from the shapeshifter for just a moment to observe the enormous rift in the sky above the town. She looked back again when a plop sounded. The shapeshifter was in its aquatic form again, slathered with fresh goo thanks to Steph’s kindness. It had slipped free, and was already halfway across the garage before Steph could comprehend what was going on. It slithered and tumbled across the floor with a sudden burst of speed as it made its escape. It flopped through the open door into the house and was out of sight a moment later.

Steph peered around the garage again. No one else had noticed. They were all still staring out the window at the hole in the sky.

“Things are flying through!” exclaimed Mr. Mays.

“We need to get out of here now!” cried Channie. “They know where we are!”

Mrs. Davis didn’t need to be told twice. She turned around first to see the shapeshifter missing and didn’t hesitate a moment more before running over to the garage door switch and hitting it.

The belt sprang into action, lifting the door. It had risen less than a foot when banging on the outside startled everyone. Lewis and Josie came rolling under a moment later.

“Shut the garage!” yelled Lewis.

Mrs. Davis ignored the warning. Instead, she grabbed Channie and her purse and ducked out while the door was still only halfway up. She was in full-on panic mode as she shoved Channie into the car and ran around to get into the driver’s seat.

Steph stepped outside, her eyes drawn to the tear in the sky. Swirling clouds poured through the opening into an otherwise clear afternoon. The churning atmospheres soon masked the opening in the universe. Dozens of dark winged figures continued to burst through the mist, descending all across the city.

Mrs. Davis didn’t wait for anyone else to join them. She started her car’s engine and peeled out of the driveway. She didn’t make it very far, however, before a ghast crashed against the hood. A moment later, the car was crumpled against a utility pole on the other side of the street.

It all happened so suddenly that Steph didn’t have time to process much as Mr. Mays pushed past her, a hunting rifle already raised in his arms.

The ghast clucked and cackled as it bashed against the car’s windshield, shattering it and knocking it inwards. Channie screamed from within. Mrs. Davis was unconscious, knocked out by the airbag deployment.

Bang!

A shot rang out—Mr. Mays lowered his rifle from his shoulder as the ghast collapsed dead.

Steph was dazed by the sound of the gunshot. The world was moving too quickly for her to fully process everything that was happening. Her mind was hung-up on the realization that her actions had been the catalyst to it all. The fact that her trauma had informed and guided her actions was not lost on her either.

Everyone else followed Mr. Mays as he ran over to the car. Together they dragged Mrs. Davis, still unconscious, from the driver’s seat and back across the street to the house. A wound on Mrs. Davis’s head was bleeding heavily. Together, Lewis and Mr. Mays managed to heft her into the backseat of Mr. Mays’ car.

“I need to get her to the hospital,” said Mr. Mays. “But my car isn’t big enough for all of us.”

“We need to get to the Taste of Edmonds and kill something called a Dreadnaught,” said Josie.

“Well that doesn’t sound very safe,” said Mr. Mays with a frown.

“It’s the only way any of us are surviving,” said Lewis.

“We should split up,” said Channie. “I know that’s a sin in the movies, but I’ve seen what the Dreadnaught can do…. It already knows we’re here. We all just need to get out of here!”

“Actually, we are all supposed to go at the festival,” said Lewis. “That’s what Landon said.”

“Well, I don’t know Landon,” said Channie, “so I’m going with my mom to the hospital.”

Lewis opened his mouth to argue but Josie preempted him. “It’s okay, go to the hospital, but please come meet us downtown as soon as you can,” she said. “Lewis’s friend said he would meet us later, so we should have some time, but we are going to need everyone’s help to kill this thing.”

Channie shook her head. “You don’t know what it can do to you. You don’t want to get anywhere near that thing. It gets in your head….”

“If we don’t kill it, it won’t stop hunting all of us until each and every one of us is dead,” said Lewis bluntly.

“I guess I do kind of trust you, boy I met in the woods yesterday,” Channie said sassily.

Lewis squinted, unsure if she was being sarcastic.

“You better take this thing serious,” said Channie. “It’ll show you such terrible stuff….”

“What part of me saying ‘it will kill us all’ sounded like I was planning on screwing around?” asked Lewis.

“Fair enough,” said Channie. “I guess we’ll see you later then….”

Mr. Mays gave Josie a tight hug. “Be careful out there,” he said. He placed his rifle into her arms. “You know how to use this.”

Josie nodded, her eyes glistening with moisture.

Steph allowed herself to be ushered into the car alongside Channie—temporarily splitting up the group. Her body took her through the motions, her mind still reeling from seeing the shapeshifter take her father’s form. Steph felt in her gut that she had been manipulated by both the shapeshifter and the Parca, Nona, in the past, though she didn’t yet know the ramifications of her actions.

Eyes watched them from the rooftop as they departed for the hospital. Steph thought she saw herself poised up there while glancing at the rear view mirror for a moment, but by the time she turned around, the figure was gone.

Things are moving along quickly! The children aren’t taking the time to contemplate all their decisions, but the path that is forming is still holding to my expectations. There are some interesting points in this portion of the journey that shouldn’t be overlooked: Stephanie’s past has come back to haunt her, and her dead father WHOSE NAME IS CLARK is being impersonated by the shapeshifter, also named Clark. Hint: This is not a coincidence and has never failed to color Steph’s interactions with the shapeshifter going forward. Also of interest, for those of you who are not yet familiar with the nuances of Lewis’s history with us Parcae, or if you just need a refresher, Nona, the Parca under the hospice bed, is one of our great leaders. She is one of The Council of Three, the highest position public servant in the multi-verse. Her presence in Steph’s life is quite a gift, for she rarely manipulates so directly. The Council of Three consists of Nona, Decuma, and Morta. They are all so famous that even you mortals have made up some stories about them that have become embedded across numerous Earth cultures. Those three are the first thought of when Fates are brought up in cultured conversation for a reason. I’m a big fan of their work if that isn’t obvious. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to rant, but they really are just on top of their game when it comes to orchestrating the on-goings of the multi-verse. The web those ladies weave is the most glorious tapestry to ever exist.

Keep vigilant,

-Mr. Gray