#partthirtyfive

Written by @DeathsRenegade.

https://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1srkra8

I am immune to my senses, so deep in thought am I. The waves lapping at my feet, the sound of sea birds, the scent of salt and ozone in the air…all of it simply does not exist for me. Adrian’s news was indeed an indicator that the time to move was upon us but there is a growing sense of unease within me. Finally rising from the sand, I walk back to the lanai. It is time to look to the future. Or rather, the possible futures. Adrian has his precognitive ability but it strikes at its own whim, not upon request. I, however, have other methods. There are advantages to having walked the corridors of power for the last 35,000 years and one of them is that I have learned a great deal of magick. There are all sorts of sources for magicks. The angels have their ethereal version, mortals their earth magick, and Zav and Bryn have begun to mix the two for this battle we face, but I am a law unto myself. Death has its own brand of magick, one that is intimately tied to the Fates and the Creator. It is what lets reapers walk between the worlds and bend space and time to do our jobs. In my hands, it is even more. Study with the fae in Tir Nan Og has combined with the innate power I hold and the more general magick of the reaper to allow me to walk the paths of time. It is the only way to see what choices the Fates may put before me, and it is likely even those will be shrouded in mysticism. But I feel compelled to try. Calling to Declan, I bid him to watch over my body in the physical realm while I allow my spirit to walk other planes. Though a reaper’s body is simply the physical manifestation of his or her soul, the power I hold allows me to maintain that corporeal form while I separate a bit of my own soul from the whole to seek answers from the unknown. This is not the first time I have used his talents thus, even though I know he finds it unnerving to watch, to know the shell no longer houses the spirit. “It will be fine,” I sooth. “If aught goes wrong while I am occupied, contact Sean. He does not have the power to walk where I will go for this, but he will know what to do.” Declan’s frown tells me what he thinks of this plan. I have no doubt he would prefer we go directly to Brazil and move forward. Finally, he simply folds his arms and nods, then steps back into the doorway to stand guard. Maintaining an outward calm but heaving an internal sigh… it is wearing to deal with such unyielding concern from my people… I ignore his recalcitrance and go to the chest I keep at the end of the lanai. Kneeling before it I open it. The fragrant scents of various herbs and resins waft from it as I remove a soft circular rug and smooth it out. An ancient brass brazier follows, along with sage, rosemary, vervain and myrrh. The sage is to bring me wisdom, the rosemary to ground my spirit to this realm and the vervain to protect my spirit as I roam. The last, myrrh, is a resin that when burned will cleanse my mind and my home of any lingering darkness and help me to sink into a deep meditation. In that state I will sever that part of my soul that needs to travel the trails of time. All will find their way to the brazier when the time is right. Though it would be a simple thing for me to add them to the bowl with a thought, adding them by my own hand is, as is the careful storage of them physically rather than simply materializing them at need, a nod to the ancient magicks of the fae. A sign of respect for the power, if you will, and one should always respect power if one wishes it to be an ally. Sitting back cross-legged on the rug, I place the brazier before me, with the herbs laid out beside it. With a thought white candles ring the rug, declaring my purity of purpose in this endeavor. They flare to life simultaneously at my bidding as I lay the myrrh in the bowl before me.  Extending my hand over it, I murmur “lasair”. It bursts to life, a gold and orange flame dancing above the brazier before settling to a steady burn. One by one I add the others, the fire leaping at each addition and then settling again.  When the flame has receded to stability, the gentle crackling no longer emitting sparks, I settle my hands, palms up on my knees, close my eyes, and begin to speak softly. “Cad iad na todhchaíochtaí a scríobh na Morai? Cad iad na cosáin atá leagtha síos acu dom? Cad iad na roghanna a thabharfar dom? Glaoim ar na Fates chun ligean dom a fheiceáil. Is ar mo roghanna féin amháin atá an t-iarmhéid crochta, Is trí mo ghníomhartha amháin a bheidh an domhan saor. Taispeáin dom cad a chaithfidh mé a dhéanamh. Glaoim ar na Fates chun ligean dom a fheiceáil.” “What futures have the Morai written? What paths have they laid for me? What choices shall I be given? I call the Fates to let me see. Only on my choices the balance hangs, Only by my actions will the worlds be free. Show me what I must do. I call the Fates to let me see.” The sounds and scents of the outside world recede and I feel myself rise above the physical form I maintain. I see myself seated on the floor of the lanai, a body only. Declan is watching from the doorway, his frown gone now, his face impassive, his body rigid as a stone warrior guarding a tomb entrance. And then even that fades away and my essence coalesces on a plane far removed from the mortal one. A wide, raised stone walkway serves as my platform as I survey my surroundings. Around it an ocean of blue flames roil and flicker, a storm of turmoil seething beneath my feet. Sensing that I am not alone, I whirl around, prepared to do battle even here if I must, but relax at the three lovely female forms behind me. “Clotho, Lachesis, Atropos…” my hand to my chest as I bow my head to them, “I did not expect the Morai to attend to this personally. Why am I so honored?” It is the raven-haired Lachesis whose laugh trills across the plane. ‘Why would we not come, Sin? We have grown,’ she shoots a sly smile at her sisters, ‘fond of you.’ ‘Indeed,’ Atropos adds as she pushes her wavy auburn tresses from her face, ‘you never disappoint. Throughout the eons you have always chosen the door that we would have wished for you. For which I am appreciative. I would find no happiness in cutting the thread of your life. Your existence since becoming Death’s first has provided us with much more pleasure. ’ She smiles at me knowingly. ‘Enough sisters,’ the fair Clothos gently reprimands. ‘The time for those recollections has passed. It is the future he needs to see. It is the future he /must/ see if he is to understand.’ She turns her azure-blue eyes to me and takes both my hands in hers. ‘There lies before you only one possible door, but there are two paths behind it.   Both lead to darkness, but the darkness is not always the enemy of the light. It can be the balance and it is that balance upon which the destinies of not just the worlds lie, but of the Creator himself. We came because you must see the results of your decision clearly. We cannot tell you what you must choose or which path it will lead you down. ‘ She smiles lightly, ‘Your free will is still the determiner of all our futures. ‘ There is a sadness to her smile that I cannot fathom. Gently I reach out to caress her cheek. “Clothos, will you not tell me what is on your heart?” She simply shakes her head, her enigmatic smile unchanged. ‘I can only tell you whatever you choose, we shall never again be as we were. Whether we become allies or enemies is still to be determined. But we can only go forward. “Can fond memories count for nothing, then?” I murmur. She catches my hand and removes it from her cheek. I can see the immortal in her rising as her shoulders firm and her chin tilts. It was always a trait I had admired in her, that ability to put duty to power over emotional frailties. It was one we shared.   ‘The past has been written, Sin. Memories are a wisp in the wind, ephemeral and influenced by what we wish could have been, not necessarily what was. The future is still to be dealt with, an avenue for growth and stability. We cannot let what was dictate what will be.’ I laugh softly. “And there you have the source of all the disagreements I have ever had with the Morai. The past /has/been written and because of that the memories we hold are the foundation of the future. They are solid and form the basis for the choices we make, the way we grow.” The laughter dies from my face as my need to understand what that future might be reasserts itself. “Come, show me what I need to see.” ‘You must go forward from here alone. Your future is yours to determine. We will watch over you and maintain a mental link,’ she answers and then Atropos adds solemnly, ‘Regardless of which path you take, my golden scissors /will/ be used. The only question is upon whom. I have my preferences, but the choice will be yours.’ I look each of them in turn. Their expressions are impassive now, no teasing, no easy flirtation. They are once again the immortal Fates.   “We have come to the heart of it now, have we not? Who lives and who dies.” Once again dipping my head to them, I turn and walk forward until I come to a door in the pathway. As I open it I can see the path split into two. The roiling blue flames pitch and roll around them and I have to wonder at the significance of this. The flames have meaning and their prevalence around the walkways must symbolize something that will remain constant regardless of the path I choose. ‘You must walk through the door, Sin.’ It Is Lachesis voice echoing in my head. ‘You need not walk down far down either path to see what you must.  But you must look.’ Inhaling deeply, I steel myself. Both paths are shrouded in a darkness that the tumultuous fires illuminate only partially.  I choose the right hand path first, walking down it for a few yards until I can see what lies at the end. My jaw sets at the image. I see myself on a throne carved of black marble against a backdrop of fire, the orange flames casting shadows around me.  My face is dark and brooding as thousands kneel before me, my black leathers stained and my bloody sword lying across my legs. Freya, Danu and Kali are in chains before me. An armed guard with spears crossed bars the way to my throne and disembodied souls shimmer on the steps leading up to it. And nowhere do I see the ones whom I now call family. “NO. I do not want this!” It is a shout in my mind. For before me I see all that I have ever despised. Power without compassion. Strength without mercy. Narcissism and greed. I see a despot leaving bodies in his wake. I see the Horseman of Death as he has always wished to be. “I will NOT walk this path, Clothos. I will die by my own hand first!” ‘That is not an option, Sin. The door you went through is one of inconceivable power. It has no limits. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. It is a human truism that holds for the immortal as well. And it is a door you have already chosen to walk through. Nothing can stop it now, but without the influence of the ones whom you hold as family, that monstrous god is what you will become. And you /will/ lose them all if you choose this path. But it is not foregone that you will. Go back now. Walk the left hand path. It has… we’ll call it more creative options.’ My face is stony, my body rigid with tension as I backtrack my steps to the original fork in the walkway. This one, too, leads into a darkness dimly lit by the blue flames around it, but again, a few yards in I can see the scene at the end. The ebony throne is still there, but my leathers are clean and I am smiling, descending with my hands out to greet those I love. I can make out Sean’s face as he approaches me, and that of his female. I hear Bryn’s laughter somewhere and Zav is there at my left, his dark wings lifted behind him and a teasing smile on his face as he looks down at a small dark-haired female in the crowd, Declan and Celia on either side of her. And there /is/ a crowd. Smaller, mingling, people coming and going with purpose but not fear.  My future self looks up, as though I hear my name called and then I see her. It is my battle angel from the alley in Caldwell. She comes from behind the throne, clothed in leathers, her own silvery, shimmering wings visible now. She smiles at me as I turn to greet her with a kiss. She has a young male of perhaps four years holding her hand. I lift him up and settle him on my hip, kissing his cheek, then pointing to another child in the crowd. He wiggles down and runs to greet her and I laugh at Sean’s disconcerted look of concern.  There are no disembodied souls hovering, no guards with spears. My own sword, clean and shining with glints of fire shimmering along the sharp, curved edge, leans against the throne, an indicator that my future self is not done with it, but it is not bloodied. “Clothos…Lachesis…Atropos…” my mental voice cracks with emotion, “What is this you are showing me?” Again it is Lachesis voice that comes to me. ‘This is your other future Sin. You cannot escape the power, you cannot escape what you will become. You can only choose how it will be wielded. These are the results of a choice you will make. It will be one or the other. I cannot tell you what you must choose between but I can say that the first will be the result of a choice made out of ego. The second is the result of a choice made from love. You have always had a healthy ego. Do you have the ability to put love over ego?’ Before I can answer, SHE looks at me. My battle angel looks down the long walkway and meets my eyes. I swear she sees me. Not my future self, but me in this time and place. I hear her voice in my mind. ‘What will you choose? Will you choose vengeance as you once did or will you remember love and choose a different path?’