Fate is such a cruel thing, even more so as a Goddess. The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor echoed throughout the hall of the Divine Nexus as Fate made her way to the meeting room of the Gods. Servants scattered like leaves in a storm, their hurried movements dwarfed by her commanding presence. With gloved hands folded neatly before her, she approached the towering doors. With a deliberate motion, she flung them open, a tendril of smoke unfurling around her like a living shadow. Her black and violet gown shimmered, flowing like liquid night. As she entered, the room fell silent. Every gaze fixed on her veiled figure, an enigmatic force that demanded reverence and took her place in her seat.

Vivian yellow eyes met hers before she looked away nervously, finger combing her curly ginger hair. Veta sat by her side unamused. Kyrant was standing looking at Keres and leveled her with a look with his red eyes before shaking his head and going back to looking distressed. There were twelve of them but now they were down to eight and she knew the truth. Once the rest of the Gods got settled Kyrant took the lead.

“We failed,” he said, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. “And now, the prophecy will begin again. This time, we must win.” His fists clenched, veins taut with anger and despair.

“We will,” Nekoda replied softly, her tone carefully measured as if treading on broken glass. “We’ll find him. We’ll save your son.”

“This time, we’ll have a better plan...” Blaine offered, though his voice wavered with doubt. Kyrant’s piercing glare silenced him, the weight of his gaze heavy with frustration.

“I need all of you,” Kyrant snapped, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. “I won’t let that monster take him from me again.”

Keres clenched her hands into a fist beneath the fold of her dress and glanced at Vivian who kept her eyes glued to the floor. No one noticed their demeanor. As the Goddess of Fate, Keres often found herself shackled by her own power. Speaking out was dangerous, for Fate demanded its due course. While she could influence its flow, the cost was steep, and prophecies were not to be messed with and once made, couldn’t be changed. The Pantheon was growing weaker and unstable without the two they were missing but the third was imprisoned for her crimes. Although she was still able to balance her power to the Nexus. Although they were running out of time and the cracks in their unity were beginning to show.

“Once they show themselves, we don’t have time to waste, we must intervene.” Kyrant said. How wrong he would be.

“But not with the mortals or hybrids?” Veta piped up. “The hybrids could at least help since some have slivers of our power and one of them usually ends up in a group with them.”

Kyrant sighed. “I suppose but we tread lightly.”

Catur turned to Keres, his voice tinged with urgency. “Have you seen anything that could help us?”

Kyrant’s gaze followed, brimming with desperate hope that made Keres’s stomach twist. She maintained her composure, her tone steady as she replied, “Unfortunately, no. But I will keep trying.” The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of her words sinking in. Kyrant stared at her, his disbelief cutting through the air like a blade. His hand slammed onto the table making Vivian flinch but Keres kept her cool. His jaw clenched as he leaned forward, eyes narrowing at Keres.

“You’re the Goddess of Fate, and you’re telling me you’ve seen nothing?” His voice was sharp, like the crack of a whip, each word laced with anger and disbelief. “Fate is your entire purpose!”

Keres met his glare, her expression unyielding, though the weight of his accusation dug deep. “I don’t control fate, Kyrant,” she said, her voice calm but firm, like steel beneath silk. “I can guide it, influence it, but I cannot rewrite what has already been set in motion. Prophecies are not to be tampered with.”

“Tampered with?” Kyrant spat, his voice rising. “We are losing everything! My son, the Pantheon, the balance—everything is crumbling around us! Don’t talk to me about rules and limits when lives are at stake.” The room felt suffocating, the tension thick as the other Gods shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to interject.

Keres’s gloved hands gripped the edge of the table, her own frustration threatening to break through. “Do you think I don’t care?” she snapped, her voice sharper now, a rare crack in her composed demeanor. “Do you think it’s easy to watch all of this unfold, knowing I can only do so much without shattering everything we’ve built? The prophecy binds me as much as it binds you. I am trying, Kyrant, but Fate is not your pawn to command.” They wouldn’t be in this mess if it hadn’t been for Kyrant.

Kyrant stared at her, his chest heaving with anger, but her words struck a chord, even if he refused to show it. They were running out of options, and even the Goddess of Fate couldn’t guarantee their salvation.

“Is there anything we can do?” Zira asked, hope showing in her eyes.

Keres didn’t want to crush her because it was her brother they were talking about but everything in time would come together. “We can’t but we survive and maybe bend what comes next.” Zira looked uncertain before looking to the moon.

Keres felt a tug, it was time. She rose, smoothing out her dress. “We’ll figure something out, time is on our side right now but now I have other things to attend to.” Kyrant looked a bit upset at how she could brush off such a serious problem but right now her plan was getting started.

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She made her way to her chambers and pulled off her gloves, tossing them aside and locked her door. She stood in the middle and let the Void consume her room. Purple strings of Fate appeared in her domain and she touched the one that was glowing brightly, appearing before man looking worn down. He flinched, taken aback by her presence. This would be the man who set her plan in motion. Hopefully. Her gaze pierced him from behind the veil and she looked at what could happen.

“Hello, Ignatius,” Keres greeted, her voice warm yet carrying the weight of unspoken purpose.

Ignatius hesitated watching her, then slowly dropped to one knee before her, his shaggy brown hair falling into his face. “Lady Goddess,” he said respectfully, his tone tinged with uncertainty. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

She smiled at his politeness. “Today you found a hybrid boy and that is why I came to you. You know nothing about him and I come here to ask if you will accept your Fate for taking in the boy.” Ignatius looked confused as he stared up at her and finally stood back.

“What do you mean?”

She didn’t want to scare him but he needed to understand the gravity of the situation because it would be a crucial point in the boy's life. “He is marked by me and has come across paths with you. You were chosen for this role. I choose you.” A kind man, crafted and molded by the new world. A leader that defies all odds of the cruel world where hybrids are destined to fail. Hybrid drawn to hybrid.

“Why..me?” Ignatius said carefully. “I’m not exactly a good soul here, the shit I’ve done. He would grow up in a difficult environment.”

Keres already knew that every hybrid does. “He will regardless of who I choose and in time, he will make the choices of destruction or peace.” Ignatius eyed her warily and took a step backwards running a hand through his hair. She couldn’t blame him and shrank her size down to be more level with him, her dress rippling.

“Surely there’s someone else more… capable. Someone stronger.” He asked. “You talk about Fate like I have no choice in this.”

“You do have a choice,” Keres said, her voice softening once more. “But understand this: rejecting the boy will not free you from the consequences of this moment. Fate has placed this path before you, and whether you walk it willingly or not, it will shape your life. If you turn away now, you will carry that burden forever.”

Ignatius’s chest rose and fell heavily, the weight of her words pressing down on him. He turned his conflicted gaze back to her. “And if I say yes? If I take him in, what happens to me? To him?”

Keres hesitated, the silence stretching between them like a taut string. “I cannot promise it will be easy,” she admitted. “The pain you both will face will be unimaginable.” Ignatius seemed to read her even without seeing her face.

Ignatius let out a bitter laugh, though it was devoid of humor, his shoulders sagging further under the weight of Keres’s words. “There’s no happy ending for me, is there?” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. “That’s usually how it goes, isn’t it?” His breath wavered as he spoke, and he ran a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion etched into his features. “What about my team? They didn’t ask for this. They’re not a part of whatever… destiny you’ve decided for me.”

Keres’s veil shifted slightly as she tilted her head, her expression unreadable, yet her tone carried a strange mix of firmness and sorrow. “If you accept, Ignatius, their paths will also be bound to the boy’s. Fate rarely chooses just one thread, it weaves an intricate tapestry, connecting those who are meant to walk this journey together. Your team will share in the trials ahead, for better or for worse.”

Ignatius clenched his fists at his sides, his eyes narrowing as frustration and guilt churned within him. “So, they’ll suffer too? Because of me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I can’t say no?” She didn’t know what to say or how to comfort mortals, so she told him the truth.

“Yes,” Keres said, her voice soft but steady. “It’s never easy, and it never will be. If you need someone to blame, blame the Divine—blame us. It is our fault that this burden has been placed on you and your team.” She paused, her gaze lowering slightly, a flicker of something almost human in her otherwise serene demeanor. “It’s not fair for you to suffer for choices that were never yours to make.”

Her words carried a weight of regret, but there was a distance in her tone, an unspoken truth lingering beneath. She could see the threads of their fates, the pain and struggle that awaited them, yet she could not truly comprehend it. Not the way they would. For all her power, for all her insight, Keres would never walk the path they were destined to tread. She would not feel the fear, the loss, the anguish that would carve scars into their souls.

“I can only ask for your understanding,” she continued, her voice quieter now, tinged with something like sorrow. “It's all our fault it happened and it will keep happening unless things this cycle can be changed or your anguish will be in vain.”

Her words hung in the air, a heavy, inescapable truth. Ignatius looked at her, his expression a storm of emotions, anger, frustration, and a faint, flickering ember of acceptance. “At least you admit it,” he muttered bitterly. “That’s more than most would do.

Keres inclined her head slightly. “Admitting it does not lessen the burden.”

Ignatius let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening into fists. “I don’t want to suffer,” he said quietly. “But I’ll do it. Not because of you, or the Divine. I’ll do it for him, for the boy.”

Keres nodded, a faint smile touching her lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “Then you are stronger than you know, Ignatius.”

He nodded slowly, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the apprehension he still felt. “And if I fail?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. She wouldn’t let it happen regardless.

Keres stepped closer, her presence filling the space between them that seemed to buzz with energy. “Failure is not the end,” she said firmly. “It is only a step. Even in failure, there are lessons to be learned, paths to be uncovered. As long as you stand, as long as you try, you will be guiding him to his true purpose whether you realize it or not.”

Ignatius nodded and finally noticed the mark on his wrist, a Celtic knot binding him to her till he fulfilled his role. “Then I’ll do my best.” It was all she could ask for.

“Even the smallest light can guide someone through the deepest darkness. Be that light for the boy, Ignatius.” With a final glance, Ignatius turned and vanished from her domain, the lingering shimmer of his departure fading into the stillness. Alone once more, Keres stared into the endless expanse of her realm.  The world would not be kind to the boy but knew the outcomes relied on every piece she attempted to put in place. If the world chose to be cruel, she could be crueler still to make sure everything went exactly how she intended it. There is a price to pay for every action.