CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXVIII

The Moirai gathered in the silk room at the top of the old, abandoned church right below the bells. No one ever suspected that the Fates resided in a church and that was just the way they liked it. It was better to be undisturbed while they did this work.

There was one teardrop window in the room. It was surrounded by black brick, and a pair of old, dark wood slats − so dark as to look black − were open, giving the sisters a clear view of the blue sky beyond. The air swept in and the sunshine highlighted the motes of dust that swirled in the air in a downward spiral to the dusty floorboards. Those floorboards creaked with age as each sister took her place. Clotho by the loom, Lachesis on the other side to help tease the threads out, and Atropos standing behind her, watching over her shoulder, ready to cut.

A hum of energy surrounded the sisters as they began. The loom squeaked as if stretching awake, the tapestry resting heavily on Lachesis’ knees. The air around them from the open window was fresh, sharp, but not as sharp as the breath both older sisters took as they watched Clotho reach for the white silk thread.

There had only been three times that thread had ever been chosen in the tapestry. Once, right in the beginning when the humans had been created and honed in the fire. The second time, far more recently, when they had known the actions Prometheus would take. Now, they found it picked up once again.

The sisters looked at each other. Stories in the tapestry had a way of being cyclic. It needn’t be spoken amongst them that this could be the beginning of the end they had been so desperately seeking for thetapestry.

The hum continued as they quietly got to work. The white thread was quickly interlaced with the purple and gold threads, as the Fates had expected. But then something strange happened. Instead of the white thread engulfing the entire tapestry, Clotho picked up a caramel thread that was laced with filaments of gold. As the sisters watched and worked, an unmistakable profile began to take shape. As they worked, the face became an arm that carried the white fire of knowledge across the tapestry.

Lachesis cackled. “Oh, clever.”

“What is it?” Atroposdemanded.

“Do you remember why we set the priestess as a lost soul in Artemis’ fields?”

“So that she was at one with nature,” Atroposreplied.

“And why we gave her the thirst to pursue lessons of love with Aphrodite and courage with Athena?” Lachesis asked.

“So that she would learn how to alchemise as a woman might. What does that have to do with the … oh.”

“Oh what?!” Clotho interrupted her sisters, also desperate toknow.

“Don’t you see, sister?” Lachesis said.

“Amara’s alchemy is a skill but not her purpose. She was lost, so that she may recognise loss in others,” Atropos added.

They began to trace her story in the tapestry. “She has learnt what she must in that time to help bring lost souls home to the truth of their nature, the love they deserve, the courage it takes to get them there. She has become a priestess for the souls who have lost their way − the humans. She was always supposed to be Prometheus’ priestess.”

Understanding began to dawn between all three of them. For if Amara was always to be Prometheus’ priestess, then the white fire was simply another tool for her to complete her destiny. The priestess herself had never been the saviour for humanity. She had been the catalyst, the conduit. The reason Prometheus moved the white fire. Now the fire had been lit and it would spread, eradicating the fear, scorching the Earth to nourish the minds of those that Gaia made home for. The question was, would the humans survive it?

The crones continued weaving well into the night, the tapestry now lit by wall-mounted lights that offered a warm, yellow glow. They did not stop, desperate to see how it unfolded. They watched the priestess’ actions become clearer in the tapestry. While Zeus’ eagle escorted Prometheus back to Olympus, Amara had taken a candle to the white fire in the hearth and scurried away, hiding it in what appeared to be a cupboard.

Clotho picked up the next thread.