Chapter 6 The Challenge
The Challenge
Theron
The Moirae summoned me at dawn. Later than I’d hoped, but sooner than I’d expected.
Loxias had approached me earlier with a brief warning. “The Moirae see all threads,” he’d said, his voice heavy with distant authority. “Keep your temper in check, brother. Sacred space demands restraint.”
“Restraint?” If not for the presence of the other Weaveguards, I’d have attacked him right then and there. “You bid against me too.”
“I had my reasons.” His tone had remained carefully neutral, but I’d caught the faint tension around his silver gaze. “The Moirae’s will, not personal choice.”
“It’s easy to blame the Moirae for everything, is it not?” I’d snarled. “Was it really your duty, or was it your desire?”
He hadn’t answered, but it hadn’t really been necessary. He was no ally of mine, and his warning told me very little I didn’t already know.
Still, as I walked into the Weavers’ Hall, something about his words came back to haunt me. The Moirae’s thrones, a familiar sight to any harvester, had never seemed so threatening before. Something was going to happen here today, and I wasn’t going to like it.
The Loom of Fate cast jagged shadows across the hall. Ancient tapestries stirred in drafts from high windows, and the scent of burning oil filled my nose.
Phonos was already kneeling on the cold marble, perfectly composed.
He didn’t even acknowledge my arrival. I bared my fangs, but the only sign he gave that he even noticed was a slight flutter of his wings.
The certainty radiating from his scent made me want to tear his throat out. He genuinely believed he deserved her.
Behind us, Enyo commanded space near the eastern wall through her sheer presence. The Keres matriarch stood at her full imposing height, each black feather groomed to perfection. She arched a brow at me and shot me a thin-lipped, taunting smile.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to rein in my hellfire. Stay calm, Theron. Don’t lose your head.
As I joined Phonos and dropped to my knees, the Moirae’s magic filled every corner of their domain. “The formal challenge has been invoked,” Clotho announced. “Phonos of House Keres contests Theron’s right to Callista of Agrion.”
If the words had come from anyone else, I would have howled in outrage. But Clotho was the Spinner, the youngest of the Moirae. Her maiden-like facade hid a power no one would dare to contest. Her will, the will of the Moirae, was absolute, and so, I waited.
Lachesis leaned forward in her throne, tapping her bronze measuring rod against the stone. “State your case, Keres. What grounds do you present?”
Phonos got up and faced our most revered leaders. “Honored Moirae, I ask for the hand of Callista of Agrion by right of first claim.”
I shot to my feet, no longer able to contain my temper. “First claim? I’m the one who found her.”
Phonos’s smile was sharp enough to cut flesh. “Were you really? I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
I glared at him, marveling at the fact that I could still express myself in coherent sentences. “Stop speaking in riddles, Phonos. What is this about?”
“It’s quite simple. Without my family’s intervention, Callista would have never come to Asphodelia.”
His family’s intervention? I didn’t like the sound of that. Whatever Phonos and his kin had been involved in could only be bad news, both for me and for Callista.
Atropos cleared her throat, her wizened voice heavy with age and secrets. “Explain your logic. What actions do you consider so important?”
For a few moments, no one dared to speak. The Cutter’s words always left terrifying echoes behind, ones we felt all the way to the center of our beings.
In the end, it was Enyo who stepped forward. She bowed so low her wingtips dragged across the floor. “Honored Moirae, we preserved the death-touched woman’s life. She faced execution in Agrion.”
Clotho nodded, unsurprised by the news. No doubt both she and the other Moirae had been familiar with Callista’s tale. “She did, yes. The villagers would have killed her for the supposed curse of barrenness. We have seen it, in the weave.”
“The village of Agrion was identified as connected to the blasphemous Korinos ritual held on Shift Day. My daughters and I deemed it just to use their lives in Thanatos’s honor. Our screeches saved her when the villagers would have murdered her.”
The revelation hit me with shocking clarity.
Death screeches. I’d witnessed Phonos use his in battle, driving his enemies into a murderous frenzy, amplifying their rage until rational thought disappeared.
But I’d never connected that to what happened in Agrion.
No wonder my death sense had been screaming when we’d first arrived in the clearing. It had all been because of the Keres.
“Your offering was indeed welcomed and accepted,” Lachesis said. “The Keres family acted within their authority, and in the process, saved Callista of Agrion.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. Without their manipulation, she would have died, wasted in meaningless village violence. There would have been no bride market. No soul bond recognition. No brand appearing on her hand.
But as grateful as I was for that, I refused to let Phonos have her. “Saving someone doesn’t make them your property.”
“That’s not what you said when you found her in Agrion, and just now, a minute ago.” Phonos closed the remaining distance between us, his gaze flashing from blue to purple. “Face it, Theron. She exists because of our family’s actions. That claim predates any ceremony.”
“She chose me at the bride market.” Every fiber in my being ached with the desire to lash out. “Every monster in this city witnessed her decision.”
“A choice she made without knowledge of the debt she owed,” Enyo drawled. “Had she known, her gratitude may have steered her toward a worthier suitor.”
Clotho hummed under her breath, her gaze dancing over the Loom of Fate. “Perhaps, perhaps not,” she said at last. “It was Theron who kept her from dying to Syagros’s last act of anger. If he hadn’t been there, things may have ended quite differently.”
Yes, of course! They’d saved her life from the villagers, but had also almost gotten her killed.
Surely, that had to count for something.
“Honored Moirae, I’m grateful to Enyo and her daughters for keeping Callista safe.
But in the end, I am her soul mate. A brand appeared on her hand during our ceremony. ”
Phonos scoffed. “An interrupted bond proves nothing. If your connection was truly destined by fate, nothing could have prevented its completion.”
Pure outrage flowed through my veins. The ceremony would have never been interrupted if they hadn’t stepped in. But they would never listen to reason, and there was only one argument that mattered, anyway.
“She’s mine,” I said, the words dropping to a deadly whisper.
“She’s mine,” he replied with equal conviction.
Every predator instinct I possessed screamed for immediate action. I ached to lunge forward, sink my fangs into his throat, and end this challenge with fire and fury. His wings shifted in preparation to meet my assault, reading the intent in my posture and scent.
“Enough!” Lachesis struck her throne with her rod, and the deafening sound shattered our deadly standoff. “Both arguments carry legitimate weight in law and custom. Words cannot resolve such a dispute.”
From the third throne, Atropos spoke with a finality only she could ever convey. “Resolution requires trial by combat. Let strength determine whose claim serves Asphodelia’s greater good.”
At last. No more legal maneuvering or political manipulation masquerading as justice. Just raw strength and determination, deciding who truly deserved her.
Enyo inclined her head with obvious satisfaction, but it was clear the Moirae had made this judgment, not her.
“Thank you, Revered Moirae,” I said, bowing.“ Your wisdom is, as always, great.”
By my side, Phonos vibrated with barely restrained fury. But he held his tongue, perhaps not wanting to make things worse. “Don’t thank us yet, Hellhound Theron.” Clotho almost sounded amused. “After all, you haven’t yet won the battle.”
I hadn’t, no, but I would. There was no other option, no other possible future I could see. The brand on her hand told the truth about our shared destiny. Not Phonos, not even the Moirae’s will, could change that. It was only a matter of time now, and Phonos would soon learn the error of his ways.
Among my people, it was said that the Kratos Circle had been the first part of Asphodelia to arise after the Shift. A simple platform of polished obsidian, it still carried the traces of Thanatos’s old blessing.
I’d witnessed dozens of trials here, seen other monsters fight for honor, territory, mates. Now it was my turn. Everything I wanted balanced on the edge of violence, but that didn’t scare me. I’d fought worse odds for lesser prizes.
Benches rose around the fighting circle in concentric rings, packed with monsters hungry for blood. Their excitement charged the air with barely controlled violence, the smell of anticipation and bloodlust mixing into something intoxicating. Good. Let them all witness me claim what was mine.
Above the general seating, three thrones dominated the arena’s northern edge. The Moirae had already arrived to witness the challenge. But for once, my gaze strayed away from them. Beside them sat Callista on a throne of white marble.
With Zoe curled in her lap, she seemed as tired as she was beautiful. The deep circles under her eyes made my heart clench, and I vowed to make Phonos pay for all her torment. Her exhaustion would fade once this political nonsense ended. Soon we’d return to my den and complete what we’d started.
“Second thoughts, Theron?” Phonos called out from the other side of the circle. Even from my position, I could smell the certainty rolling off him in waves. He thought he could win this. It was so stupid I didn’t even grace him with a reply.