Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
I cannot believe I’m taking such high risks based on a few words from a stranger. Yet here I am, at the gates of Moirai, about to either manage to get inside or get arrested for even trying.
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and head to where the armored soldiers guard the portal that leads to the inside of the House of Moirai.
Although it is technically located in Aperion, the only way to get inside is to be approved by the door watcher, who then inputs some coordinates in the portal that take you to the heart of House of Moirai. This system ensures that even if the armed guards guarding the portal were to be defeated, no one would be able to step inside without the proper coordinates.
As I step forward, the guards look me up and down with suspicion before the door watcher materializes.
“Name and purpose of the visit,” he demands.
“Minerva An’yan of the House of Cryos here to see Groyo of the House of Moirai.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“No, but I am here to relay my gratitude for his influence on my development,” I say, adding some flowery language for good measure.
The door watcher does not seem convinced.
“What is it you are carrying?” He points at the basket in my hands.
“This is a gift for Lord Groyo. It is a dish I made specifically for him,” I add sweetly.
“If you do not have an appointment, you cannot go in.”
“I’m sure an exception can be made. Lord Groyo will be happy to see me and listen to all the lessons I have learned after our interaction.”
“No exceptions,” he states firmly.
“Not even for a princess of the House of Cryos?” I smile. “You should ask Lord Groyo first before turning me away.”
He ponders my words for a few moments before he disappears. In a matter of seconds, he is back.
“Lord Groyo will receive you,” he declares.
I let out a small sigh of relief as I follow the door watcher to the portal. He inputs the coordinates and as a light blue color swirls around me, my surroundings change.
A lush, green valley extends in the horizon. The sky is clear and perfectly blue—a stark contrast to Aperion’s usual semi-orange sky, whose hue is given by its two blazing suns. The entire landscape is picturesque and the main color palette is a pastel version of the vibrant Aperion colors. A sudden calm settles over me. I’m not sure if this is due to the tranquility of the environment, or if there is something in the air in the House of Moirai that takes away all my worries.
“Balabas will lead you to Lord Groyo,” the door watcher mentions as a wraith materializes in front of me.
“Thank you!”
The wraith’s ghostly eyes meet mine. “Follow me, Lady Minerva,” it says in a monotone voice.
We walk down a small, paved road that seemingly stretches for miles.
I try to interact with Balabas, asking some questions about the threads of fate housed within House of Moirai, but I’m greeted with a very generic, “I am not programmed to answer such questions.”
Wraiths are soulless beings with no mind of their own. Their only purpose is to serve the commands of the person who created them. Although they are not sentient, all wraiths derive their knowledge from the Source, which means they are a wealth of information if one can get them to talk. Sometimes, there are loopholes in how wraiths are programmed, and one can get some tidbits of information. But as I continue to rephrase my questions, it seems Balabas is not one of them.
As expected of a wraith from the House of Moirai , I think drily to myself.
We walk for minutes on end until a massive construction appears on the horizon.
As we get closer to it, my eyes widen in astonishment at the sheer size of it.
It’s a circular tower with the radius of an entire Aperite city. Though that’s impressive on its own, it’s the fact that it’s so tall, it brushes against the sky, with no visible roof in sight.
That’s hundreds if not thousands of floors.
“This is…” I whisper, more to myself.
Balabas promptly replies, “This is the seat of the House of Moirai, Lady Minerva. Lord Groyo’s lodgings are on the one thousand and third floor.”
“One thousand…” I trail off. “How many are in total?”
“An infinite number, just as there are infinite worlds out there and worlds not yet formed,” Balabas surprises me when it answers my question.
“Is that where the fates of souls are located?”
“Yes. They are arranged according to their place of origin.”
“By origin you mean…” I probe carefully.
“The world they are born into for that particular lifetime. There are an infinite number of wraiths that work to sort out any changes in placement as a soul enters and then departs the House of Psyche.”
Finally, I’m getting some relevant information.
“Who decides what world a soul will be born into? The House of Psyche or the House of Moirai?”
“The House of Moirai, of course,” Balabas answers in the same monotone voice. “While the wraiths move souls from one level to the other, the clerks working for the Moirai Council delegate the tasks so order is maintained in the universe.”
“The Moirai Council? What is that?”
“It is a fourteen-member council handpicked by the Moirai Supreme, who dedicate their lives to spinning the threads of fate.”
“Fourteen members? And they spin all the threads of the universe? How is that possible?”
“I cannot answer that as it is beyond my knowledge.”
“What about the Supreme? What does the Supreme do?”
“The Supreme is in charge of spinning the threads of fate of the most influential people of each generation. Those souls are picked based on their potential to influence millions of other souls.”
There it is, that word again: potential.
“What is potential exactly?”
“I cannot answer that, Lady Minerva.”
I sigh. It seems the only information the wraith is willing to impart is the general kind. But considering I did not find any such information in the books from our library, this is quite novel for me.
“Where would I find my own thread of fate?”
“I cannot answer that.”
I roll my eyes.
“Where would the threads of fate of Aperion be?”
“You will have to be more specific, Lady Minerva.”
“What do you mean more specific?”
“The souls of deities are different from the souls of s’Aperiotes and they are given a different type of consideration.”
“You mean they get special treatment?”
“I cannot answer that.”
“Where would the souls of deities be then?” I rephrase my question, though I brace myself to get the same non answer.
“Each council member is assigned one House of Aperion.”
“Which council member is assigned House of Cryos?”
“Lord Groyo, of course.”
Ah, perhaps luck is on my side after all.
“And how are these council members fair to their own fate? Can’t they cheat and assign themselves good fates?” I ask since this has been on my mind for a long time.
“Cheating does not exist in the House of Moirai,” the wraiths promptly replies.
“How so?” I frown.
“A requisite of any living soul working in the House of Moirai is to relinquish their emotions. Without emotions, there is no incentive to cheat.”
Wait, what?
“You mean the Moirai Supreme and the council members are emotionless?”
“Together with any living clerk who works here, yes.”
That is interesting, and something to keep in mind when interacting with Groyo. He will not be easily swayed by my awkward charm, and perhaps not even by the delicious food I cooked for him.
Damn it!
“If they are emotionless, do they mate?” I ask suddenly.
“No, every worker for the House of Moirai is required to live a life of celibacy.”
“Then how do they reproduce?” I frown.
“They do not.”
“I don’t understand. They don’t have any offspring? How do they appoint successors? Do they even have successors or is it the same people all the time?”
“Each council member has a term of ten thousand years after which they are relieved of their duties. Each Moirai Supreme has a term of fifty thousand years after which they are relieved of their duties and a new Supreme is chosen. Each clerk has a term of five thousand years before they are relieved of their duties. All House of Moirai deities are from the other Houses in Aperion and after they finish their term, they are allowed to return to their respective Houses.”
“What?” I squeak.
“It is public knowledge,” Balabas adds. Of course everything Balabas is telling me is likely public knowledge, but that does not mean widely available. Certainly, I have never been heard most of the things the wraith told me so far. In my defense, I’ve never been interested in the affairs of the House of Moirai before.
Balabas continues, “Fledgling deities are recruited within their first thousand year of life if they display certain abilities that might be a good fit for the House of Moirai. They are then trained and molded into their role.”
That sounds vaguely familiar, and I think I remember some rumors about these recruitments during my school years. But I never paid them any mind.
We are getting closer to the tower. Since my time to ask questions is limited, I bring up another thing that’s bothered me since my parents decided to betroth me to that clown. But it seems that the wraith cannot answer any question related to the threads of fate, so I carefully choose my next words.
“How does the House of Moirai decide which matches to approve for deities?”
“A hypothetical model is built to test the potential of the offspring between two deities. Should the potential offspring have equal or better potential than at least one of its parents, the match is approved. Should the potential offspring have less potential, the match is denied.”
“What about true matings?”
Balabas stops and turns to me, the first time he’s done so.
“True matings are forbidden in Aperion. They disrupt the order of things.”
That much I knew as well, since true matings are triggered by blood-sharing and sexual intercourse. The first is forbidden by Aperite law, while the second is frowned upon before marriage.
“How do they disrupt the order of things?” I inquire.
“I cannot answer that.”
“When did true matings become forbidden?” Balabas should be able to answer that since wraiths have an encyclopedia-type knowledge.
“When the Primordials left.”
I frown.
“What do you mean by that?”
“I cannot answer that,” Balabas replies.
I purse my lips in annoyance and rephrase my question, “What is so bad about true matings that made them forbidden?”
“Bad is subjective,” the wraith responds. “True matings were not conductive to the purpose of Aperion. They were deemed to be against the interest of the realm.”
I blink. “Why?”
“True mates only care about each other at the expense of anything and anyone else. It stands to reason that if they only care about each other, they will not do their duties to Aperion and the rest of the universe.”
“Does that mean that Moirai only approves matings that have no chance of being true matings?”
“I cannot answer that.”
Yet the answer is evident. Moirai’s process of approval hinges on two important criteria: the potential power of the offspring and the impossibility that the parents would be true mates.
Slowly, it dawns on me that Moirai has been actively working against us. So what if true mates only care about each other? By denying people the chance of finding their one true love, they are denying them true happiness.
I’d long suspected that the rarity of true matings had to do with the political game of advantageous marriages in Aperion, but I never realized it would be so insidious. Retrospectively, it makes sense why in my over four thousand years of life, I’ve only read a handful of accounts of true mating—all references from obscure, unofficial sources.
Despite the fact that true matings are considered taboo and they are not talked about, those accounts stayed with me because they gave me a sliver of hope—that perhaps I, too, would be able to find my one true love at some point in time. But with the House of Moirai working to ensure that never happens, it dawns on me that it’s never been possible in the first place.
All this time, I’ve been holding out some romantic notions about true mates, thinking that although they are rare, they still happen. I would look at a couple seemingly in love and hope that, perhaps, they’d found their true love.
By the time I can think of another question to ask Balabas, the wraith stops.
“We have arrived.”
The door to the first level of the tower opens in front of us and Balabas leads me inside. To my surprise, there is nothing of note inside, only a slew of other doors. Balabas chooses one, seemingly at random, and opens it for me. The wraith doesn’t follow me, merely nodding for me to go in.
Once I step through the second door, I find myself in the middle of a corridor. The walls are a stark white, devoid of any decor or artifice.
Not knowing what I’m supposed to do now, I take a tentative step forward.
“Lady Minerva. What brings you here?” Groyo’s voice rings out and he flashes himself in front of me. He’s wearing the same pearlescent gown as before, his face full of runes that have been etched in his face in two rows on each cheek. His eyes are a very odd, light yellow color.
“Lord Groyo.” I clear my throat. “This is a nice room you have here,” I add nervously.
He stares at me, his face devoid of any emotion.
“What brings you here?” he repeats.
“I have come to pay my respects and thank you.”
“Thank me?” he echoes.
“Your interference in my life has helped me see that I was on a wrong path and I have since mended my ways.”
“You are welcome,” he replies tersely. “You may leave now.”
“Eh?” I blink. He’s already turning to leave, so I shout, “Stop.”
He half turns, a question knit between his brows.
“This is for you. My gratitude,” I muster with a tremulous smile as I extend the tray with the pie I baked for him. It’s a recipe I learned in Anthropa, so I have no doubt he will be impressed with it. He’s probably never had anything of the sort before.
He glances down at the tray with curiosity, but he does not take it.
“I do not…require such things.”
“But it is a gift,” I insist.
He brings his gaze to mine, apparently not really comprehending the idea of a gift.
I don’t know how old he is or how long he’s been in his role, but if he’s been taken from his family when he was a mere thousand years old and had his emotions suppressed, it makes sense that he would not know.
But emotion or not, he should still abide by polite etiquette. And that means he cannot refuse my gift.
“I see. Thank you,” he mentions after a moment’s thought. He doesn’t reach forward to grab it from me, merely using his telekinesis to move it to his side.
“You may go now.”
“Wait!” I call out again as he makes to leave.
By the Source, but this male cannot wait to get rid of me. And I cannot allow for that to happen if I need to fulfill my mission.
“You must tell me how you like it.”
Once more, he frowns, not comprehending my words.
“You are not from the House of Cryos, right?” I wager a guess. If he is in charge of our House, then with all the House of Moirai checks and balances, chances are he is not.
“I am not. I am from the House of Anemo,” he answers slowly, methodically.
“That explains it. In Cryos, it is extremely frowned upon to receive food and not sample it.”
He tilts his head to the side, glancing from me to the tray floating by his side. He ponders my words.
“I do not…eat this type of food.”
“This type?”
“Cooked food,” he mentions in a low voice, though his eyes are on the pie.
“What do you eat?”
“Nutrient powders to keep my energy levels at optimal levels.”
“Is it forbidden for you to eat it?”
“No. It is not.” He’s still looking at the pie, almost longingly—though if he has no emotion, I doubt he is capable of experiencing longing.
“Then you could try it? It’s the polite thing to do since I made it specifically for you.”
He still hesitates.
“You can have just a bite and if you do not like it, I will not take offense,” I add. “Though I am a rather good cook, so it should be delicious.” I wink playfully at him.
He barely pays me any attention, his eyes on the pie.
His throat bobs up and down. He wants to try it.
“I suppose I could take a bite,” he murmurs. Using his telekinesis—which on second thought might be him manipulating air since he’s from the House of Anemo—he slices a piece of the pie and without even touching it, he brings it to his mouth and takes a bite.
I watch him with bated breath, waiting to see his reaction.
“This is good. Thank you, Lady Minerva,” he mentions as he takes another bite, then another until the slice is finished.
He doesn’t reach for another one, but I’ll have to hope that the amount he ate will be enough.
Seconds trickle by and as I’m starting to lose hope, his eyes roll back in his head and he wobbles backward.
He opens his mouth to speak, but he cannot do so—not until he is prompted anyway.
I’ve been breaking rules right and left recently, so if I’m going to sneak into the House of Moirai, I might as well bring my full arsenal with me. Which is why I may have decided to use a forbidden rune I found while rummaging through the Cryos armory. It’s an unusual one that has not been used in eons, but it holds extreme power, granting its user complete control over a person for exactly thirty minutes. Of course the catch is twofold: the rune’s magic has to be ingested, hence the pie, and it can only be used once by a person.
But now that Groyo is under the influence, I quickly pose my questions.
“Where are my threads of fate located?”
He flinches but cannot stop himself from replying, “The seventh door on the right.”
“There are no doors,” I mention with narrowed eyes. “Show me!”
He presses his hand against the white right wall and a shimmery light erupts from within before a row of infinite doors materializes in front of me.
“How do I recognize which are mine once I go inside?”
“They will shine the brightest for your eyes only.”
I nod. That’s quite easy.
“Thank you, Lord Groyo. Now wait here until I return and do not move!”
He obeys me, his body becoming slack.
I count the doors until I reach the seventh and go inside. Using my energy, I manifest a timer to tell me when the thirty minutes are about to elapse.
My mouth opens in shock as I enter the room. There are millions of spider-like threads of an opalescent color. They are all linked and interwoven with each other in a complex tapestry that my brain cannot even begin to comprehend.
They all pulse with light, some stronger than others. And as I walk among them, careful not to touch any that are not my own, I realize that this room also stretches to infinity.
Time is of the essence, and fear grips me that I will not be able to find what I’m looking for before the rune’s power runs out.
Taking a deep breath, I stop in the midst of the layers of threads and focus on my surroundings. Summoning my energy to the tips of my finger, I weave a small ice eye on which I carve a transfer rune so I can borrow its sight.
Adding more energy to the eye, I send it flying forward to explore the unknown.
Closing my own eyes, I let the wandering eye see everything for me.
It travels miles per second, taking in the multitude of linked threads with their beautiful colors. But while most of them shimmer with a combination of other colors, none yet shine the brightest.
More distance traveled. More webs explored.
I’ve never given thought to the infinity of life, of creation, of fate. Yet seeing it all for myself now, I find myself in awe at the sheer magnitude and complexity.
I’m just one small part of it all, an insignificant part in the large scheme of things.
Yet it’s that small part that I wish to have control over, that I wish to shape and mold as I want and not let some ancient deities decide for me.
I’ve already lived four thousand years according to the fate assigned to me, never stepping out of that predetermined mold.
And if I hadn’t met Mine, I probably would have never done it either.
I would have rebelled against my betrothal to Theron, of course, but I don’t think I would have had either the courage or the determination to run away, to risk becoming a pariah in the only world I’ve ever known.
That is no longer the case.
I can shun away everything and everyone as long as I have Mine by my side, my best friend, my beloved. And for that, I will willingly exile myself from Aperion so long as I can be free to love him as I long to.
The eye stops. A web of tangled threads shines so brightly, it’s almost blinding. Registering the surroundings, I flash myself there, absorbing the energy of the eye within my palms.
Here it is. My fate.
Nine blinding threads of fate, and one of which I must cut.
Wyn might not have said it explicitly, but after some deliberation it is clear she meant my love thread. Since Mine is mortal and our energies signatures differ so much, it is impossible that he might ever be my fated love.
A bitter taste assails me as I think of another male who might have a claim on me. Yet it’s also the opposite that worries me. If at some point I stumble upon that male fated for me and the true mating corrupts my feelings to the point that I forget Mine.
Unacceptable.
That can never happen.
There can never be anyone else for me. Now or ever.
I turn my attention to the bright threads and study them intently. Some of them have different colored hues, ranging from pure white to light blue, green, red, pink, orange, purple, yellow, and black. The pure white and black ones I assume to be the life and death ones respectively.
But the others… Which one is the love thread?