Fate leaned back in his chair, his tea steaming gently in his hand as his sharp gaze settled on Pandora. The faint clinking of porcelain as he adjusted his grip was the only sound in the library, save for the soft hum of power that seemed to emanate from the very air. “Tell me, Pandora,” he began, his tone measured but laced with quiet authority, “why are you so confident you can win this little game of ours?”
Pandora’s grin widened, his crimson eyes glinting with an almost feral light. His posture, casually draped across his chair, exuded an air of untouchable arrogance. “Oh, Fate,” he purred, his voice dripping with mockery, “do you really need me to spell it out? You, the manifestation of knowledge itself, can’t comprehend something so blindingly obvious? How tragically ironic. Anyone with even a fragment of insight could see I’m guaranteed to win.”
Fate raised an eyebrow, his expression calm but sharpened by an undercurrent of disdain. Slowly, deliberately, he sipped his tea, letting the silence stretch just long enough to unsettle his brother. “Confident words for someone on the verge of their third failed attempt to kill Iris,” he remarked, his voice cool but cutting. “Tell me, Pandora, does failure taste any sweeter the third time around?”
The smugness in Pandora’s grin faltered for the briefest of moments, a crack so subtle it would have gone unnoticed by anyone but Fate. He recovered quickly, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand as if bored. “And why are you so confident, dear brother?” he countered, his tone laced with faux curiosity. “Even if this attempt fails, it matters not. I have countless plans, each more ingenious than the last. Iris is living on borrowed time, and we both know it. You have no idea where our base is, no means of disrupting my operations. I can strike whenever and wherever I please.”
A new voice broke the tense exchange, calm but resolute. “You’re in Romania,” Eden said, her words landing like a thunderclap.
Pandora froze, his grin vanishing as his gaze snapped to her. His crimson eyes widened, the confidence he wore like a cloak slipping from his shoulders. “W-what?” he stammered, the first true crack in his composure. “How the hell did you figure that out?”
Eden’s gaze was steady, her voice devoid of the anger that often colored her exchanges with her brothers. “Did you really believe that just because I haven’t sold your location to A.E.G.I.S, I didn’t know where you were hiding?” she asked, her tone sharp. “You’ve always underestimated me, Pandora.”
Pandora’s fingers drummed nervously against the armrest of his chair, the rhythmic tapping betraying his agitation. He let out a forced chuckle, attempting to regain his composure. “Fine,” he said, waving a hand as if brushing away an insignificant detail. “You’ve caught me off guard. But tell me, oh brilliant siblings, what makes you so confident this changes anything?”
Fate placed his teacup back onto its saucer with deliberate care, the gentle clink of porcelain on wood resounding like a declaration in the tense silence. His sharp gaze turned toward Eden, and for a moment, the cold calculation that defined him softened. The weight of countless unspoken words seemed to pass between them as his golden eyes glinted with something akin to regret.
“It is time,” Fate said, his voice calm yet filled with an unshakable finality. “We’ve indulged this farce long enough.”
Eden’s fiery aura flared faintly, the embers licking at the edges of her crimson hair as her hand tightened around the haft of her axe. Despite her fiery nature, her expression was one of restrained apprehension. “I agree, brother,” she said, her voice steady. “But care to tell me your plan before we move forward?”
Fate’s lips curled into the faintest of smiles, an expression that conveyed both determination and an undercurrent of sorrow. He leaned forward, his fingers steepled as if contemplating a grand design. His golden eyes burned with quiet resolve, yet the storm within them betrayed his emotions.
“It’s time,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of an unspoken storm, “to rank up my pawns.”
Pandora, lounging in the shadows like a predator biding its time, tilted his head slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Pawns, you say? How delightfully cryptic,” he sneered. “But what are you really playing at, brother?”
Fate ignored the taunt, lifting his tea for a final, measured sip. The tension in the room grew so thick it felt as though the air itself would crack under the weight of his resolve. As he set the teacup back down, he uttered the single word that shifted the balance of their war.
“Check.”
Fate rose to his feet, his movements imbued with a solemn grace that silenced even Pandora’s mocking grin. Each step was deliberate, the echo reverberating with an unspoken finality. The ever-calm veneer Fate maintained seemed to waver for the first time, a tempest of emotions flickering behind his golden gaze.
He extended his hand toward Eden. “Forgive me, Sister,” he murmured, his tone heavy with regret.
Before Eden could react, his hand pierced through her head with a swift, surgical precision. Her body froze as a sharp gasp escaped her lips—not of pain, but of loss so profound it stole the breath from her lungs. From within her, Fate withdrew a translucent, writhing white snake. The creature coiled around his hand, its ethereal glow pulsating faintly, embodying the most cherished and vulnerable parts of Eden's memories.
Eden’s head reformed instantly, but her eyes now flickered with a strange emptiness, as if a vital part of her soul had been torn away. She staggered back, her trembling hands rising instinctively to her temple. “No…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as tears began to stream down her face. “Please… brother, don’t… please.”
Her fiery aura dimmed, the defiance that had always defined her replaced with a heart-wrenching vulnerability. Fate looked down at the fragile serpent in his grasp, his expression unreadable save for the profound sorrow glistening in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Eden,” he said softly, his voice cracking under the weight of his words. “But I must change the future. The future where Iris and Maxwell die today must never come to pass. This… this is my trump card.”
Pandora, who had been watching with uncharacteristic silence, surged to his feet. His crimson eyes blazed with fury, his usual smugness replaced by a rare glimpse of genuine emotion. “Fate, stop!” he demanded, his voice reverberating with an intensity that startled even himself. “This is too much, even for you! I don’t give a damn about you, but to do this to Eden—” His voice broke, a mix of anger and disbelief spilling forth. “You dare rob her of this?”
Fate turned toward Pandora, his golden eyes locking onto his brother’s furious crimson gaze. He remained silent for a moment, letting the weight of Pandora’s words settle. Then, with an unshakable resolve, he clutched the snake tighter.
“This isn’t about what I dare or what I deserve,” Fate said quietly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “This is about what must be done. Sacrifice is the price of survival, and I will pay it—whether you understand or not.”
Pandora’s fists clenched, his body trembling with suppressed rage. “You arrogant bastard,” he spat. “You’ll regret this.”
Eden collapsed to her knees, her fiery hair dimming to a soft, ember-like glow that barely lit the cold expanse of the room. Her sobs echoed in the heavy silence, raw and unrestrained, as though her very soul was fracturing. Her trembling hands clutched at her chest, desperate to grasp at the intangible memories slipping away like sand through her fingers.
“Aether…” she whispered, the name carrying all the weight of love, regret, and finality. It was the name of the man she now realized she would soon forget—a name that would become a hollow echo in the chambers of her mind.
Pandora stood frozen for a moment, his crimson eyes wide, his usual smirk wiped clean from his face. Then, with a surge of emotion that bordered on fury, he lunged at Fate, grabbing his brother by the collar. His grip was tight, trembling, as if he were trying to shake reason into the unflinching man before him.
“I know that man was trash,” Pandora snarled, his voice low and venomous. “But forcing Eden to relinquish her own memories? That’s too much—even for you, you bastard.”
Fate didn’t resist. His calm gaze met Pandora’s fiery one, his golden eyes steady but carrying a sorrow that seemed to pierce through Pandora’s anger. He spoke evenly, his voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air between them. “You forced this to happen, Pandora. You dragged her into this game. And now you’re mad because I’m playing it. Remember, you set the rules. A battle royale—three siblings, pitted against one another with our chosen champions. In the end, you caused this.”
With a firm shove, Fate pushed Pandora away, breaking his grip. Pandora stumbled back, his rage boiling over. “What about you?” he shouted, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “Don’t tell me you’re forcing Eden to bear all the cost! Are you so cruel that you’ll stand by and let her pay this price alone?”
Fate’s expression softened, and for the first time, there was a crack in his usually impenetrable calm. “Of course not,” he said quietly, the gentleness in his tone striking harder than any shout. His golden eyes flickered with a mix of grief and resolve. “There’s a limit to my cruelty, Pandora.”
He straightened, his gaze drifting briefly to Eden, who remained on the ground, her tears falling silently. Then he turned back to Pandora, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And as for me…” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he inhaled shakily. “I will relinquish all my memories of Sarah.”
The room fell silent. Even Pandora’s anger seemed to falter in the face of those words.
Fate continued, his voice trembling but unwavering. “Every smile, every laugh, every moment of love and warmth we shared… gone. And beyond that, I will forget everything about Iris.”
Pandora’s crimson eyes widened in shock. “You’re insane”
Fate pressed on, his golden eyes shimmering with tears that he refused to let stop him. “Other than the knowledge that she is my daughter, I will remember nothing. Not her first words. Not her smile. Not the nights I held her when she cried, promising her that I would always protect her.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
His voice broke, the weight of his confession crashing over him like a tidal wave. Tears streamed freely down his face, unchecked, as his carefully constructed facade crumbled. “But to keep her safe… to ensure she lives… such a sacrifice is worth it.”
Pandora stood stunned, his words caught in his throat. The mocking, the fury—it all seemed meaningless in the face of Fate’s raw anguish. He opened his mouth to speak but found that no words came.
The air in the library grew heavy as Pandora’s crimson eyes burned with defiance. He took a step forward, his usual smugness replaced by a fierce determination that set the room alight with tension. “I won’t let you do this,” he declared, his voice reverberating like thunder. “I won’t let you destroy Eden's hope, nor will I let you succeed in saving them.”
Fate, seated at his ornate desk, didn’t flinch. Instead, he calmly set down his teacup, his golden eyes locking onto Pandora with an almost disarming serenity. “And how, dear brother,” Fate began, his voice laced with quiet confidence, “do you intend to stop me here? You may wield the powers of Death and Error, but this is my domain.”
Pandora’s lips curled into a sharp smile, his Authority of Error flaring to life as the surrounding air began to distort. Reality cracked and fragmented, the library’s pristine shelves glitching and shuddering as Pandora’s influence crept outward like a virus. “Your domain?” Pandora mocked, his voice dripping with venom. “Let’s see how much control you really have when reality itself starts to crumble.”
Fate rose slowly, his movements deliberate as the library responded to his will. The cracks in reality sealed themselves, and the bookshelves stretched higher, their spines glowing faintly with an ethereal light. “You’re not the first to underestimate my domain,” Fate said, his tone almost pitying. He extended his hand, and from the floor, a massive knight of golden light emerged, its sword gleaming with radiant energy.
Pandora didn’t wait. With a flick of his wrist, the Authority of Death surged forward, a wave of sickly black energy cascading toward the knight. The construct met the attack head-on, its blade cutting through the death energy like sunlight parting shadows. Pandora narrowed his eyes, his crimson gaze flicking to Fate. “Clever tricks, but tricks won’t save you.”
The Authority of Error surged again, this time targeting the knight itself. Its form glitched violently, its golden light flickering as Pandora’s influence threatened to unravel it. Fate raised a hand, and the knight shattered into a thousand shards, each one transforming mid-air into smaller constructs—archers, mages, and swordsmen—all aimed at Pandora.
“Your problem, brother,” Fate said, his voice steady despite the chaos, “is that you think destruction is the only path to victory.”
Pandora dodged a volley of arrows, his form glitching out of existence and reappearing on the far side of the room. “And your problem,” Pandora snapped, raising his hand to unleash another wave of error, “is that you think intellect will save you from death.”
The room warped as Pandora’s Authority tore through the constructs, unraveling them one by one. Yet, for every fallen creation, Fate conjured another—a dragon of cascading books, a shield forged from spinning tomes, and a spear of crystalline words. The library was alive, bending to Fate’s will as if the very essence of knowledge itself fought alongside him.
Pandora smirked, his form flickering as he darted through the chaos. He reached Fate in an instant, his hand outstretched to strike. “Let’s see you rewrite this,” he growled, his Authority of Death converging into a sharp blade aimed directly at Fate’s chest.
Fate didn’t move. Instead, the surrounding air shimmered, and a massive clock face materialized between them, its hands spinning wildly. The blade struck the clock, and time seemed to freeze. Pandora’s expression twisted in confusion as his strike hung suspended mid-air.
“You forget,” Fate said softly, his voice carrying an almost fatherly tone, “that here, I control not just the space, but the very rules of existence.”
With a snap of his fingers, the clock shattered, sending Pandora flying backward. He collided with a bookshelf, the impact splintering wood and scattering books. Fate’s constructs closed in, their glowing forms ready to strike.
Pandora wiped a trickle of golden ichor from his mouth, his grin returning as he stood. “Not bad, brother,” he admitted, his crimson eyes flaring once more. “But let’s see how long your little library can hold against true chaos.”
As Pandora raised his hands, preparing to unleash another surge of destruction, Fate stepped forward, unshaken. “You’ll find,” he said, his voice like the turning of a page, “that in my library, chaos always finds itself rewritten.”
Fate stood at the center of his domain, his golden eyes glowing with determination. Around him, the library hummed with a life of its own, the boundless knowledge within its shelves stirring to his call. “Very well, Pandora,” he said, his voice calm yet firm. “Let us see how chaos fares against the timeless wisdom of stories.”
Pandora’s grin widened, his crimson eyes blazing as the Authority of Error glitched the surrounding air. “You think your little fairy tales will stop me? Let’s tear apart your precious fantasies.”
Fate raised his hand, and from a nearby shelf, a glowing tome floated into his grasp. The air shimmered as the book opened, its pages flipping rapidly before bursting into light. From its pages emerged Beowulf, his massive frame clad in chainmail, wielding a blade forged to slay monsters.
Beowulf charged at Pandora, his sword slicing through the warped reality around him. Pandora countered with a wave of his Authority, the air fracturing into jagged shards of error. Beowulf’s blade cut through the distortion, his war cry echoing through the library.
“Let’s raise the stakes,” Fate said, summoning another book. This one was bound in black leather, its title glowing faintly, Sherlock Holmes. A tall, sharp-eyed man in a tweed coat stepped forward, his magnifying glass gleaming like a weapon. “Pandora’s weakness lies in his arrogance,” Holmes said coolly, analyzing the scene. “Strike where he least expects it.”
Pandora scoffed as Holmes directed Beowulf’s attack, the ancient warrior forcing Pandora to dodge left. Holmes tossed a small glass vial—a chemical concoction that exploded into a plume of blinding smoke. Pandora stumbled momentarily, his form glitching as he tried to recalibrate.
“You’re getting desperate,” Pandora sneered, regaining his composure. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned a swirling orb of death energy, launching it toward Fate.
Pandora snarled, slashing at the trio with his Authority. “Do you really think a few fictional characters can stop me?!” he bellowed.
Fate ignored Pandora’s taunt, summoning a tome with jagged green lettering, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. From its pages emerged the Creature, towering and fearsome, his mismatched limbs radiating strength.
“You, god of chaos, are no exception to consequence,” the Creature growled, his voice thick with anguish.
He charged Pandora, delivering a crushing blow. Pandora’s Authority of Error distorted the attack into nothingness, but the Creature pressed on, grabbing Pandora by the throat.
“You cannot break what is already broken,” the Creature snarled, hurling Pandora into a bookshelf.
Fate smirked. “Poetic, isn’t it, brother?”
“You’re just delaying the inevitable!” Pandora shouted, his crimson eyes glowing brighter. He raised his hands, summoning a wave of glitching chaos that consumed the ground beneath him. “Let’s see your stories save you now!”
Fate responded by opening a fiery red book. Its title, The Iliad. From the pages emerged Achilles, his bronze armor shining as he charged forward, his spear aimed with deadly precision. The room seemed to tremble with his rage as he leaped at Pandora, his weapon piercing through the wall of death energy and striking Pandora’s chest. Pandora staggered, the golden ichor of his form spilling slightly before his body glitched and reformed.
“You can’t kill me!” Pandora roared, his voice reverberating through the library. He raised his hand to strike, but Fate was already flipping open another book. This one radiated an aura of wisdom and power. Its title read ‘Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone’.
From the book stepped Albus Dumbledore, his long silver beard flowing as he raised his wand. “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure,” Dumbledore intoned, sending a burst of white magic that shattered Pandora’s attack mid-air.
The library was filled with more characters, each one joining the fray. Atticus Finch distracted Pandora with sharp rhetoric, while Katniss Everdeen fired arrows from the shadows. Hercules grappled with Pandora directly, his strength keeping the god at bay. Even Dracula appeared, his dark power momentarily eclipsing Pandora’s Authority of Death.
“You think you can overwhelm me with numbers?” Pandora hissed, his crimson eyes glowing fiercely. He raised both hands, unleashing a surge of his Authority that sent many of the summoned characters scattering. “Your stories are fragile. Your creations are illusions!”
Fate’s voice rang out, calm yet commanding. “Stories endure, brother. They are not fragile—they are eternal.” He summoned one final book, its cover gleaming with a golden light, The Epic of Gilgamesh. From the pages stepped Gilgamesh himself, his towering presence radiating authority. With a roar, Gilgamesh slammed a massive blade into the ground, causing a shockwave that disrupted Pandora’s Authority momentarily.
Panting, Pandora stumbled back, glaring at the figures Fate had summoned, their watchful gazes pinning him in place. “This isn’t over,” he growled, his voice ragged but still laced with defiance. “You can’t keep this up forever.”
Fate’s expression remained calm, almost serene. He ran his fingers along the spines of countless books, his movements deliberate and final. “You’re right,” he said softly. “This cannot go on forever. Goodbye, brother. You’re banned from my library.”
Before Pandora could respond, the surrounding air distorted, reality twisting like the turning of a page. In an instant, he found himself back in his chamber, seated in his chair. His crimson eyes widened as he realized what had just happened. For the first time in centuries, Pandora felt powerless. “Goodbye, brother. It is time to end this,” Fate’s voice echoed faintly in the stillness, a ghostly reminder of the battle lost.
Back in the library, Fate stood motionless, his hands trembling as he turned to Eden, who lay on the ground clutching her head in pain. “Memories are the foundation of who we are,” Fate said, his voice steady but raw, each word weighed down by the enormity of his decision. “To lose them is to lose ourselves. But for Iris, for Maxwell, for those who deserve a future… this is the price we pay.”
Eden’s voice trembled as she called out weakly, “Fate…” Her fiery aura flickered faintly, her strength fading alongside the memories she had surrendered.
Fate sighed deeply, his resolve unbroken but his heart heavy. He reached into his desk and withdrew a red book, its leather cover worn but brimming with unspoken power. The memories he had extracted glimmered faintly, swirling within the ink of a glass quill pen. The translucent snake dissolved completely into the ink, a tempest of emotion confined within the fragile vessel.
He opened the book, its blank pages radiating an aura of infinite possibilities. The pen hovered above the paper, his hand trembling with hesitation. “I am a bad father,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I abandoned my daughter. I thrust her into this cursed game, knowing the pain it would bring. But if I can do one thing right—if I can keep her safe—then this sacrifice will have meaning.”
The first stroke of the quill met the page, and a tear slid down his cheek, staining the glowing parchment. With each word he inscribed, fragments of his memories unraveled, fading like the final notes of a symphony. The quill scratched against the paper, forging a new narrative, each stroke carving out a future where Iris and Maxwell might live.
Eden rose shakily to her feet, her fiery locks casting dim shadows across the room. She watched her brother, the man who had always seemed unshakable, now crumbling under the weight of his own choices. Her hands trembled as they clutched her chest, the ache of loss searing like a brand. Tears spilled down her face as she whispered, “Fate, you—”
“I know,” he said softly, cutting her off without looking up. His focus remained on the glowing pages, the ink of their sacrifices burning brightly as reality itself bent to his will. “I know what I’m doing.”
The book’s glow intensified, pulsating with a radiant energy that seemed to ripple through the room. As the rewritten story solidified, the surrounding air shimmered, time and space reshaping themselves to accommodate the new future.
Fate set the pen down, his hand lingering on the book as he whispered, “I’ll always love you, my dearest Iris.”