Crackling portals tore open onto a cosmic plane, teeming with millions of stars. Three figures erged. Behind them, through the shimring portals, was the bizarre sight of a warm, sunny beach.
Zetius cautiously stepped onto clouds of nebulae. They were vibrant in colour, beautiful yet terrifying in their vastness. His feet found an invisible ground that supported his weight, creating a surreal sensation, as though he were suspended in zero gravity.
“Where are we?” Cubie murmured, levitating slowly. Her glowing blue eyes swept around, filled with fascination. An enigmatic, age-old lody reverberated softly in every direction.
In the distance, holo-threads spurred from a central point, weaving into massive and delicate structures. Each thread seed to possess its own life, drifting and swaying in the stillness of space. Their ever-growing lengths seed ethereal.
At the origin of the threads stood a platform, its stone appearing as ancient as the Earth itself.
Zetius narrowed his eyes, trying to comprehend the scene. Then, he spotted a tall, thin figure at the base of the platform.
“What’s going on here, Celestius Elenore?” he asked the woman in the hat.
Elenore bead. “Everyone, I present to you the Hall of Fate, and the Moirai!” Her voice lilted with a lodious tone.
Scratching his head, Zetius grumbled, “Moi-what? What or who are they?” His mind struggled to grasp the situation. He turned to Cubie, who shrugged, equally mystified.
“Co! It’s better if I show you,” Elenore urged, taking his wrist.
As they stepped onto the circular platform, another figure erged from the bundled threads above. This female figure floated down with grace, her dark, veiled hair drifting around her.
“Celestius Elenore, why have you co to the Moirai?” her divine voice echoed, seeming to emanate from the very centre of their minds.
“Sister Atropaia, there is soone I would like you to et,” Elenore said, bowing low and motioning for the others to do likewise.
The regal figure stood easily three tres tall. She wore an unusual dress, a striking combination of black and green, fashioned in a style Zetius had never encountered in the seven continents. An ornate, spiked golden crown sat atop her smooth, silky hair, partially covered by a veil. A necklace resembling a magical circlet adorned her neck, and similar artefacts were visible on her wrists. A high collar fanned out elegantly behind her head, reminiscent of a peacock's tail.
“Incredible… is she of the Titanmachy?” Zetius gasped softly, his voice filled with pure wonder as he stole glances.
“Not a goddess, but a Titan?” Cubie whispered, blinking in amazent. Elenore simply smiled and nodded.
“Is it the boy or the blue girl? Which of them is so important as to disturb my divine duty?” Atropaia demanded, her voice echoing.
Atropaia possessed a long face, proportionate to her height. Her pale skin was adorned with a glowing runic tattoo that traced her high cheekbones and jawlines. Her half-closed eyes sparked like eralds, precious and commanding.
In the background, another tall Titan ceased her spinning and joined them. She shared a similar appearance and features, though her eyes were almond-shaped, unlike Atropaia’s half-closed gaze. She also possessed four arms; the upper pair never stopped spinning, revealing themselves as the source of all the holo-threads. Her perpetual movent rustled the jade pendants, hoisting down beside her slender thighs.
“Who are they, sister?” the four-ard Titan asked, looking down her nose at them. Their towering height alone was unintentionally intimidating.
“Lacheryn, Celestius Elenore here suggests she has sothing of importance. Yet, I fail to grasp it,” Atropaia grumbled discontentedly, wrapping her arms around herself.
Elenore gestured towards Zetius. “This is Zetius Zel Celerius, and his essence, Cubie… I an, Cubellina,” she said sheepishly.
Lacheryn drifted closer, inspecting Zetius for a full minute. “Interesting… There’s a faint primal aroma about this human,” she concluded, clasping a hand to her stomach.
Atropaia raised her arched brows. “Is he a product of Gaia?” she probed her sister.
“Dear, every human, every elf, and every animori is,” Lacheryn interrupted, raising a finger. They seed more conversational than their initial appearance suggested.
“I know that, sister,” Atropaia rumbled, clearly annoyed.
“Wait… sisters?” Zetius raised his hand sheepishly, unsure how to address the Titans. They paused, returning his tentative question with a haunting glare.
“What is it, mortal?” Atropaia mumbled.
“What about the Wildren?” Zetius asked, scratching his cheek. “Are they not also products of Gaia? Isn’t Gaia the goddess of Mother Earth and all her living creations?” Elenore, anwhile, gave an encouraging nod.
“Your ignorance of the world and its history sicken , mortal. Are you not of Earth?” Atropaia grimaced.
“Indeed, my existence spans a re two decades,” Zetius quipped.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Then she smirked. “Very well, I am going to enlighten you, Zetius.”
“By-products! The law of nature ensures chaos, ever-changing, ever-evolving into sothing else,” Atropaia stated matter-of-factly.
Seeing Zetius tilt his head in confusion, “Have you not learned of evolution?” Lacheryn elaborated and clicked her tongue.
“I suppose so?” Zetius shrugged, then shook his head. The longer he conversed with them, the more enigmatic and less conventionally divine they seed.
“Zetius,” Elenore whispered in his ear, “Sister Lacheryn is the embodint of the Present, the one who perpetually spins the threads of fate. Sister Atropaia is the embodint of the Past, maintaining the records of history.”
Atropaia turned to her sister. “Back to my initial thought… he might be a champion of Gaia.”
“Champion of Gaia?” Zetius’s attention snapped towards the Titans, his curiosity instantly piqued.
Elenore clasped her hands to her chest in reverence. “You are correct, Sister Atropaia. He was the child who bore Primordial Essences!”
Lacheryn’s eyes widened, her spinning faltering for a mont.
“Blasphemy! Lies! I sense no such thing!” the Sister of the Present accused, pointing a long, manicured nail.
Atropaia traced a strand of thread, inspecting it closely. “It is true, Lacheryn. The boy possessed them and lost them. Two were destroyed.” She rummaged through multiple threads, reading their stories.
Frantically, Lacheryn snatched the thread and began to scrutinise it. Then, she looked sharply at Zetius, her eyes wide. “This child’s thread… it seems to be missing its beginning. How can this be?” She scratched her head in bewildernt.
“What is a Champion of Gaia?” Zetius whispered to Elenore.
“Well, according to myth, it is an individual raised by the goddess Gaia to protect the world against an apocalypse,” Elenore explained with a grin.
“Sounds like a fairy tale,” Zetius muttered, brushing his brows in contemplation. “Then again, if I weren’t currently seeing two Titans right in front of , I wouldn’t be convinced of any of this.”
“Wait!” Atropaia narrowed her eyes, raising her arms. “But there is already a Champion of Gaia on Earth. This is… a redundancy.”
The mortals exchanged an odd look. “Who is this person?” Elenore asked.
“Ah, yes. Indeed,” Lacheryn nodded twice in agreent. “The Astral Empress.”
“The one responsible for the Ventiff’s demise? Aurora Vere Borealis?!” Elenore gasped in surprise.
“No. The other one, Nohrell Voss Fenrith,” the Titan replied promptly.
The divine revelation cut like sharp iron, and the cosmic expanse around them seed to fall silent.
Zetius’s lips parted slightly. “She… she’s alive?!”
“Yes. Very much alive,” Atropaia confird.
A surge of heat rose to his face. “Then why did she cause all those wars? The Light of Punishnt was ant as a deterrent against her raging attacks!” Zetius demanded angrily.
“We do not command her will. We are rely watchers and keepers,” Lacheryn responded.
“But if the legend is true, a Champion of Gaia is supposed to protect, not destroy. How could the Astral Empress Nohrell neglect her duty so?” Zetius pressed, the lingering pain of wars evident in his voice.
“We cannot answer that. There are too many missing links,” Atropaia whispered.
“Tell , Titans! Where is Gaia? Where are all the gods?” Zetius demanded, his voice rising.
The Titans exchanged a look. “We do not know.”
Zetius sighed deeply, frustration etching his features.
“Sisters,” Elenore chid in, gently brushing Zetius’s shoulder, “the Light of Punishnt, unleashed using the binding oath and the D’arcane at Germund. Surely this qualifies as one of the apocalyptic events?”
Atropaia floated upwards, her gaze tracing the holo-threads. “Ah, the Light of Punishnt. The fourth apocalypse, which has just occurred, was orchestrated by Celestius of Aries. Millions of souls flooded the Underworld.” Her voice carried a faint trace of sorrow.
Lacheryn argued sharply, “No, sister, the fourth apocalypse was the Vinveil Tragedy. Another Celestius tampered with the strands of fate. Large-scale necromancy… rotten arcane.”
Hearing this, Elenore tensed visibly, her smile faltering. “That was my twin sister… and her controversial deeds,” she told Zetius and Cubie, her voice sombre.
Atropaia’s erald eyes glead with a strange anticipation. “Then, that ans the third apocalypse was the Ventiff’s Terror! Ohhh!” She licked her lips. “That was a gripping part of history.” Lacheryn nodded vigorously in agreent.
Elenore raised her hand politely. “Sisters, before we indulge ourselves further, please heed my plea.” The Titans paused, gesturing for her to continue.
“There is a prophecy,” Elenore explained, her voice echoing slightly, “of a sixth apocalypse. One on an unimaginable scale, far greater than anything we have witnessed. It could wipe out our entire world.”
“Ah, that prophecy,” Atropaia chid. “The return of our forr master, the undying Titan.”
With a flick of her wrist, Lacheryn materialised a massive to. She turned its pages, skimming through them. “Ah, yes. Our sister recorded the prophecy here, the return of Cronos.”
“Cronos? The Titan of Ti?” Zetius asked, feeling a wave of nausea. Information flooded his brain, so much so that at tis it felt like listening to a foreign language.
“Because,” Lacheryn explained promptly, closing the book, “during the Divine Dissonance, we aided the gods in defeating Cronos. We sealed him away, intending for him never to return.”
“The Divine Dissonance… I’ve heard of that. So, it’s all real?” Zetius mumbled, more to himself than anyone.
“What can we do to stop this sixth apocalypse?” Elenore asked urgently.
“We do not know the future, child,” Lacheryn replied. Her expression held a pang of sadness as her gaze drifted towards the swirling galaxy. “Our sister, Clothia, the weaver of the Future, fell in the Divine Finale.”
“However,” Atropaia said, “like energy, which can never be destroyed, only transford, her essence endures. You may find fragnts of Clothia in your world. Bring them here, and perhaps we can then foresee what is to co.”
Zetius rubbed his brow with his thumb. “We ca for answers but are leaving with even more questions.”
“Is that all, then, child?” Lacheryn asked, outstretched her palms in a gesture of dismissal.
“Yes. Thank you very much, sisters,” Elenore bowed gracefully, and Cubie followed suit. As they stepped away from the platform, Zetius remained quiet, still contemplating the montous discussion with the Sisters of Fate.
Suddenly, a female humming resonated from the back of his head. His vision blurred, and everything plunged into pitch blackness.
Then, as if in a fever dream, Zetius felt a strange, lurking sensation. His eyes fluttered open to a white ceiling, fluorescent light so bright that it burned. Sensory overload washed over him.
His back ached. His skin registered the cold air, a stark new feeling. The thirst in his throat was almost unbearable.
The humming stopped abruptly.
“Zeta!” a familiar voice gasped. A curl of crimson hair entered the periphery of his vision.
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