Pandora's Curse
Chapter 11

I stared into the expansion of darkness that shifted and weaved around me, like fog or smoke until my eyes adjusted further. My feet felt numb until pins and needles prickled beneath my foot, growing stronger as I climbed to my feet unsteadily. Staring blindly into nothing, except the blackness which as my eyes adjusted to the darkness further, smoke and fog so thick was a deep indigo and an eerie flicker of green faded in and out ahead of me. Warily, I stumbled through the smoke, every nerve of edge as I listened for anything or anyone.

"Hello? Who is there?" My crackling off as my nerves rose higher, my body tensing fearfully. A blast of rancid steam hit my face from the side and my stomach churned horribly as I curled in over my stomach, feeling myself sicken. I forgot that smell graciously but I unfortunately know that stench.

I clapped a hand over my mouth and nose as I straightened up and the fog faded apart ever so slightly, revealing dark shapes. Rock formations from above and below circling around me. Three spindles faded amidst the dense fog but no shadowy figures circling around. A hiss from the side and a blast of steam along with the rotten flesh smell-

And citrus, I think? Something fruity, weirdly enough.

"Do you smell it?"

The disembodied voice echoed around me, ringing painfully in my head as though three voices were whispering all at once straight into my ears. Flinching at the sudden voice as I stumbled back until my back hit something that disappeared just as quickly.

"You can't avoid the smell of it?"

"I-I don't know what it is I'm smelling." I whisper and a ghostly shape drifts through the fog, fading in and out as though it is part of the fog. "Did a prayer work for an answer-"

"We do not answer at whim!" Flinching at the hiss that snarled behind me but as I turned to look at them, the shadow disappeared into the fog, circling around like other ghostly forms. "We answer to us."

"Then why am I here?" I tried to keep my voice polite but also fearless. I was far from fearless. More terrified and confused as to why I was here amongst the Moirai. "If-" A creaking, rickety echoed in the darkness and my body yanked forward suddenly by right hand being pulled into the darkness. Stumbling into the fog blindly, barely able to see ahead of myself until I stood closer to three large spindles creaking slowly by themselves. Red twining around and I didn't want to take look at the large ragged shaped mounds around the spindles. My stomach was suffering.

"We hate your line."

"Despise it!"

"Useless."

Um, alright then.

"I don't know-"

"Zeus made complications."

"Pathetic waste of time."

"Tangled mess of lines."

"I'm sorry for my own fate, I guess but I don't control it-"

"WRONG AGAIN!" I shakily drop to my knees, hand clapped over my ears as the shrieks echoed painfully in my head, shaking my brain. "Pathetic child, you know of nothing!"

"We weave."

"We create."

"We destroy."

"But it is all up to you." A hand suddenly drifted out of the dark, the ghostly fluttering shape hidden behind a wall of green and purple fog. The tattered, mouldy black sleeve pulled back, revealing rotten, cracked, torn blackened flesh, dirtied, stained, broken nails, palm opening and a thin line of red resting gently in its palm that disappeared behind it, probably from a spindle. "Your fate, Pandora, is unstable." It pulled the red line gently and my right hand twitched. Glancing down, I saw red string tied neatly around the top of my middle finger.

"Pull your line,"

"And you would vanquish."

"Make our jobs peaceful again."

My throat closed up briefly at the insinuation. And the hand closed around the red string in its palm and twisting its hand neatly, like an elegant dance despite the rotten appearance until it open its palm out wide, long, gnarled fingers straight out. The red line - my line - was intertwined around the Fates fingers in a simple elegant pattern. But I felt less than awed and with a soft hum that echoed around me and made me feel as though thousands of tiny little spiders were crawling through my clothes and hair.

"Pull the line." The Fate pressed their index finger forward against the intricate line weaved around, pushing against the line and tightening it.

Tightening my chest.

My heart rocketed in my chest, dropping to my knees as I gasped for air as something pressed heavily on my lungs. My vision darkening as I gasped, clawing at the dirtied floor, a thrum inside in my head growing louder and louder as though it was screaming. I can't breathe! Breathe! I-I can...can't...Black spots danced in my vision as I relentless panic surged upwards, clawing for breath, to claw the weight off-

"Gaaassssppppp..." Coughing and sweating, the tightness in my chest was gone so suddenly, the force of air slamming into my lungs, greedily drinking it up. Gasping, panting as I climb to my knees, bits of saliva dripping at the corner of my mouth as I coughed and took in air despite the rancid taste.

Looking back up, the hand hadn't moved except putting pressure on the line, leaving me in a state of panic and terror and a flicker of anger.

"Pull the line."

"Cut the line."

"End the line."

"Easier jobs." The hand lowered and with a simple twist and roll, released the intricate design wrapped around its fingers until it lay softly on its open palm. "But your Fate is complicated."

"Then, if you don't like it..." I gasp, rubbing my chest which throbs dully. "Why? Why bring me here for this show-and-tell? What do you plan to gain from threatening me with this?"

Silence.

No sound and no sign of movement. The hand remained sticking out in the darkness with my red line in its palm. Until it took hold of it between its nails and threw it towards me where it drifted like a feather to knees.

"Follow the line,"

"Follow the story."

"Follow your fate." The Fate suddenly drifted closer and I could see it clearer and my skin grew cold and itchy. Its cloak drifted around it like it was its body, its form, ragged, torn cloth, the hood drawn completely over the head. Only a glint of wretched, cracked, crooked, bloodied teeth bared sneakily through its crooked, wicked smirk. "Your Fate has many lines."

"We invest in your story."

"Your Fate."

"Was never planned."

"But could change everything." Stumped and confused, I stare at the red line snaking over the ground in bright red. "Do you not see your lines?" The voice whispered cruelly in my ear as I raised my right hand and five red, separate strings were knotted around the top of each finger. "Accept your Fate."

"Follow your Fate."

"Follow the line."

"And the course of war shall change."

Accept what Fate? War? What war?

"W-War? What war are you talking about?" But as I raised my head, I was alone, no shadows of ghostly figures in the dark shifting by, or rock formations, or eerie lights. Completely incased in shifting black and green fog once again. "Wait! Wait, don't go! What war are you talking about? Is Aello involved? Or War himself?"

"Gold will run rampant like red rivers."

"Thunder is coming."

"Thunder? But-" As I glanced ahead of me, looking for anything until a snarling wisp of black streamed at me. The shrill scream in my head, causing my knees to buckle as I tipped back in terror with a scream. A stinging ache on my fingers but I felt myself fall backwards into nothing, except darkness swallowing me up pulling me within as the Fates screamed after me.

"We don't control Fate."

Galatea

Burning marble eyes tore me out of sleep with a startled gasp as thunder cracked right above my head, the sound of rain pouring heavily outside with a heavy wind that drifted quickly. Shaken, my body drenched in sweat, my chest throbbing with a dull ache and my head pounding with a growing headache and the niggling sensation of feeling spiders or ants crawling through my skin and hair.

I wanted nothing more than to believe it was just a weird, terrifying dream but...

Swallowing heavily, I raised my right hand and through the dark, I saw a cut of a single red string tied loosely around my middle finger. Thunder rumbled overhead, fading away slowly as I stared hollowly at the ceiling.

Thunder and war were coming.