Strings of Destiny
H is finger slid against the empty space where the iron ring had been and Kerrigan–or George, as he’d previously been known–smiled. With the heavy weight of it gone, the glamor it afforded him fell apart only to reveal his truest form.
It had been far too long since he’d last been himself, but he supposed it was for the best. He knew if you wore a mask for too long, you became the facade which you painted upon yourself. And, much as he enjoyed weaving a fabulous vision for others to gawk at, his true form was far more magnificent than anything Unseelie magic could conjure up.
He turned, catching sight of himself against a reflective pane of glass that housed a plant that swallowed pixies whole. His teeth flashed a vibrant white, a shade that was too bright to be anything but magical. His dark eyes were the real mystery. Nothing but black voids and if he looked at himself enough, he could just make out the entire cosmos lying within the center of the darkness.
He turned away before he got lost within himself and swiped a hand in front of his chest. It activated that which tethered him to others. Bright filaments glowed from his chest, the thick strings spreading across the universe, severed into different parts like a spiderweb that marked destinies.
Kerrigan found himself staring at the strings a lot more lately. They’d started thrumming like an instrument, growing brighter and hotter. It was almost as if they were trying to speak to him, but he didn’t need to sing their song to know that things had been set in motion. The tides were shifting and destinies were firmly in place, each piece exactly where it needed to be.
And perhaps the Fae did not know it yet, but soon they would. Soon, Bryson Varik would know that it wasn’t just magic. All actions came with a price.