by G. E. White
“Teams of the three people, one from each temple. Each house reflected one of the Houses of the Zodiac. It was said that what house you were in reflected on your personality. They act as law keepers both here and in the First Realm.” Jared explained
Surina’s hand gripped the fabric of the armrest tightly. Her gazed was fixated on Jared, her mouth held in a tight line.
“Why even…” Jared trailed off as she caught his gaze. Quinn’s attention was completely on him and didn’t notice when Surina gave a slight shake of her head.
“Even what?” Quinn prodded.
“Uh, why even you should have remembered that,” Jared stuttered.
The teen snorted. “I don’t even remember my real last name – I think you’re pushing it expecting me to remember things about houses.”
Sebastien cleared his throat bringing the attention of the three back to himself. “Regardless, the issue is that while these temples work together, the theft of two pieces of the North Star has made all of them… suspicious of one another.”
Surina wore a grim expression as she leaned further back into her seat as Sebastien spoke. “It’s all we need to start a war,” she grumbled, turning to glance out the window.
She could practically see the gears turning in Quinn’s head. He opened his mouth, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue just waiting to be answered, but he was instantly halted by the muffled curses coming from behind the apartment door.
“Goddamnit,” a somewhat familiar male voice boomed from behind the heavy metal. “Sebastien, how the hell do ya get in again?” he called to the owner of the place.
Quinn watched with mild mirth as Sebastien sighed, giving a slight wave of his hand toward to the door, which immediately unlocked every latch and combination keeping the door shut.
The door swung open revealing an embarrassed looking Leo whose hand was still attached to the knob. “Sorry about that,” he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, which once again automatically locked shut. “Not really used to unlocking doors, usually just break ‘em down.”
“And you guys still let him sub in for Erica?” Jared asked the Seer, a note of disbelief in his tone.
“I like to consider it a lesson in patience for him,” Sebastien replied. “It may keep him from acting rashly in the future.”
“But that’s part of my charm,” the God of War interjected as he sauntered farther into the room, dropping himself down on the couch beside Quinn. “Hey kid, seems you passed initiation.”
“I guess you could put it that way,” the teen answered, an uncertain smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah, but now the hard work begins,” the older man warned.
“Yes, well, speaking of hard work, did you bring what I asked for?” Sebastien interrupted.
“Right here,” Leo replied, digging into his pocket and pulling out what appeared to be a feather quill.
“And that is?” Quinn asked.
“A portable gate – once activated this baby should open up a door that will drop you right off in front of the Temple of Apollo.”
“Mind setting that up Leo? I want to speak with Quinn for a moment,” Sebastien said standing, his head dipping in a gesture for Quinn to stand as well.
Leo furrowed his brow, “There’s not really anything to set up – it’s already keyed to Jared, like you asked.”
“Well then perhaps then you could have some horchata. Surina knows where everything is.”
“Ooo, getting served by Surina sounds fun,” the big man said, rubbing his hands together gleefully.
The woman crossed her arms stubbornly. “Tigernuts by the blender, cinnamon’s in the cupboard. Knock yourself out.”
“Spoilsport,” Leo pouted.
The Seer shook his head. “Jared, watch them, will you?”
“Will do,” Jared replied.
With that, Sebastien beckoned Quinn to follow him. “Come on Quinn, it won’t take long, just a little chat in my workshop.”
The teen glanced somewhat warily over at Jared who gave him a gentle smile. “Go ahead, he doesn’t bite.”
Quinn stood and trailed after the older man who led him farther into the apartment and down a narrow hallway, bypassing all the doors, and to the teen’s amazement, stepping through and disappearing into a large full-length mirror mounted on the wall.
He came to a halt outside of the mirror, seeing only his own reflection paired with the mirrored view of the hall behind him. He inspected the gold gilded edges of the mirror but from what he could see only a wall lay behind it.
Sebastien poked his head out of the mirror, the surface rippling around him like water. “Coming?”
Startled Quinn jumped back a step, “Yeah…”
“Well hurry up then, just walk right through, it doesn’t hurt.”
Watching the man disappear back into the mirror, Quinn took a calming breath and stepped through after him.
Crossing from the hallway to Sebastien's ‘workshop’ was like entering a new dimension. Though what he stood on was solid no floor could be seen; instead an inky blackness seemed to stretch into eternity.
The only points of illumination were the colorful threads that weaved themselves above their heads and continued below them cocoon-like. Each strand appeared to glow with an internal light. Many crisscrossed with one another, becoming entangled until one thread ended.
Sebastien continued further in, Quinn trailing after the Seer, stopping curiously to inspect a large collection of threads that all pulled towards one giant tangle. The teen peered even closer as the strands began to vibrate violently. Suddenly with a screech that sounded like hundreds of voices raised in fear, the tangle exploded leaving only frayed and limp strings.
The blonde jumped back eyes wide. "What just happened?"
Sebastien turned back towards the now tattered remains of threads that hung lifelessly, supported only by other threads that still held them aloft.
“Those would be the passengers of Sunrail Airways flight 436 to Dubai.”
Quinn cradled one of the frayed strands. “That plane just crashed, didn’t it?”
Sebastien nodded. “Engine failure.”
“And you orchestrated all of this?”
“I did what needed to be done. It’s not always a fun job. People’s lives have to end and sometimes they end prematurely.”
“Were there children on board?” Quinn asked.
“A few.”
“And it doesn’t bother you?” Quinn asked incredulously.
“I never said that,” the Fates replied, stepping closer to the now dull strings hanging limply about them. “But you’ll notice that some threads still hold them up. They continue to exist because they are remembered and to be honest it’s not really the end.”
Quinn sneered. “Yeah they get an eternity to rot, floating down a river.”
“That’s just the first part of the journey. The transition from life to death is jarring to say the least, especially for those who die suddenly. The river gives them time to come to terms with what has happened before moving on.”
“To where?”
“Most to the Elysian Fields. A heaven of sorts to put in layman’s terms.”
“And the others?” Quinn asked, head tilted up to other man expectantly.
“A very select few are delegated to Tartarus.”
“You mean Hell.”
“I guess you could call it that,” Sebastien replied, his head tilted back as if looking up at the threads of life around them, as if he could see them.
“But as I said, only a select few end up there – usually those whose crimes were perpetrated with violence, malice and joy. It is one thing to hurt or kill another for survival or in battle; it is another to do so for the sport of it. You have to be a true monster of a person to receive such punishment… that’s not to say there is no chance of redemption. As for the rest, they are the ones who cannot move on – not without help. They usually end up returning t
o the land of the living, becoming the shades that haunt the places and people they can’t let go of.”
“Do they ever get help? Learn to let go?” Quinn asked, his thumb gently running over the short length of the strand in his hand.
“Jared and his brother Joseph have been known to round up some of the wayward souls, but some are very resilient. Sometimes being here is what they want. But that’s not what we’re here for.”
Sebastien turned away and continued to stroll along the path through the tunnel of woven threads around them.
Quinn jogged up behind him to keep in pace. “So what did you want to talk about?”
“A couple things if I’m being honest,” Sebastien replied. He walked over to a large particular grouping of threads somewhat away from the others. There appeared to be nothing different with these threads compared to the others, so why separate them? Like many others this tangle of threads crisscrossed and inter-weaved with one another but where one thread would end a new one would be tied on and continue on.
As Quinn stepped forward a strange sensation of familiarity washed over him, like he was looking a piece of art he had seen once before.
Zeroing in on one fine blue thread among the countless ones before him, Quinn reached out to touch it.
Though Sebastien could not see Quinn’s actions, he could sense them. The astral plane of the Fates was as much a part of him as his hands, so as he felt Quinn move to take hold of one of the strings he allowed it – perhaps it would make what he had to say that much easier to understand.
As his fingers closed on the blue thread, suddenly, Quinn was not there… or at least his mind wasn’t.
With a strange tugging sensation in his chest Quinn suddenly found himself gone from the Fate’s domain and now sitting on a hard and uncomfortable bench. Once again Quinn was a passenger in a body that once had been his.
Sarah Elizabeth Wyland was the name he… or should he say she had gone by. A gifted fabrics dyer, weaver and merchant, Sarah Elizabeth was an anomaly in the small patriarchal village of Ipswich, Massachusetts. She had taken over the family business after her father had died and not only continued to succeed but grew her business.
Before his death, her father had warned her that she was far too clever for her own good, and others wouldn’t take her wit and success with much grace. She should have listened to him.
Unrest between the many families that had settled in Ipswich and the neighbouring Salem Town had been the start of this situation. Fueled by unexplained illnesses and fear of the unknown, several women had already been tried and hanged for witchcraft. These women had been outsiders, a beggar, a slave, a non-believer, so those who were the ‘good’ church goers had nothing to fear… until they did.
Illness and villagers claims of being possessed continued to spread, women, men; no one was safe from accusation.
Now stuck sitting on the accused bench of the town hall, listening to the magistrates and people she had once called friends testify against her, Sarah knew she had been a fool to think herself above the hysteria.
Though she knew better thanks to her position among the Realms, Sarah had been a church goer in order to better fit in with community, so she might continue to teach them and spread her wisdom. She thought the veil of devotion would shield her peculiar ways, her long nights working a bit too closely with Abigail Graves from the prying eyes of her neighbours, and it might have if she hadn’t under-estimated the fragile nature of a powerful man’s ego.
Magistrate Eldenbrook’s air of superiority had always raised her hackles, so when the man had very publicly announced his desire to court her, Sarah did the only thing that came to mind – she laughed. She had quickly softened the blow, claiming that she wasn’t suitable for a man of his station, yet the insult in her voice was obvious – the damage done.
Not three weeks had passed from that incident and now she sat in front of the self-same man who sought to destroy her for her slight. And as her once lover, Abigail Graves took the witness stand, her face marred with dark bruises curtesy of her father’s fists she knew her fate was sealed.
Abigail met Sarah’s eyes for just a moment, but in that moment Sarah tried to convey everything: her love and her forgiveness for what Abigail must do. Sarah only hoped that Abigail’s betrayal would at least spare her Sarah’s fate.
Though Sarah knew her soul would be reborn it did not alleviate her fear of death. It would hurt, it would be humiliating and it would be the end of Sarah Wyland.
Ripping his hand from the thread Quinn came back to himself with a jolt. The tumultuous emotions of Sarah Wyland still raging through him, he turned accusing eyes towards Sebastien.
“Why didn’t you stop me?” he demanded, but quickly shook his head to dispel the thought, “You couldn’t see me, of course you couldn’t have stopped me.”
“I could have,” Sebastien countered. “I knew you would be drawn to the threads of your past lives, just like all the others. I might have hoped you would have chosen a less disturbing moment to relive, but Sarah’s life was enlightening at least.”
“So it’s true, that was me, the same with Kim Si-Min.”
Sebastien nodded, “And countless others – they are all you and yet not.”
“I don’t really understand,” Quinn said with a shake of his head.
“That’s one of the things I wished to discuss. The concept of reincarnation is not often an easy pill to swallow. I find having a more hands on approach, so to speak, makes the transition easier. I’m sure it’s been weighing on your mind.”
“A little,” Quinn admitted sheepishly. “Though Jared helped me understand some of it.”
“I just want to make sure you’re not overwhelmed.”
“I’m alright,” Quinn assured, trying to put a confidence into his voice that he didn’t completely feel. “So what’s the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”
“To be honest, the North Star.”
“And we couldn’t have this conversation in front of the others?” the teen asked skeptically.
“While the star is capable of granting a wish, that is not its main function. Its true purpose has only been known by myself and Athena and that is why we are not having this conversation with the others. But technically I’m not telling you anything new, simply reminding you.”
“Okay…”
“Since its birth the Star has acted as what we call Ojos del Eterno - Eyes of the Eternal, a satellite of sorts, seeing and recording everything. It predates the gods and even the first races, the wealth of information and knowledge it contains is priceless. But once again this information can only be accessed when the star is whole, so you can understand the seriousness of the situation should it fall into the wrong hands,” Sebastien explained.
“But you said no one else knows it has this information,” Quinn said, digging his hands into his jean pockets.
“True, but people have stumbled upon many things they hadn’t been looking for, and I’m not willing to risk that.”
Quinn stopped walking, the silence of his non-existent footsteps causing Sebastien to turn to him. “So why tell me all of this?”
“If the three of you should retrieve the Star, but it has somehow been made whole I want you to handle it.”
“Me? Don’t you trust Surina and Jared?”
“I do, but only until I can’t anymore and if I can leave them ignorant of the star’s true power I will. Knowledge of any kind can be a heavy burden as I’m sure you’re learning, what with your little episode this morning.”
Quinn ducked his head against his chest, trying to recall exactly how he had found himself on Jared’s couch. “Yeah, I still don’t completely understand what happened, other than I somehow downloaded all this info just by interacting with a search engine. Kinda sucks, I liked using the internet... never seemed to have trouble before.”
The teen pouted as the Seer’s hand came down on his head to ruffle his already messy locks.
“
I wouldn’t worry about it. You’re just experiencing a spike in your abilities. As the God of Wisdom, it is paramount that you receive a certain amount of knowledge every week, so when you’re deprived of learning new things and new stimuli as you were in Cedar Hills your brain becomes a super sponge, desperate to take in anything it comes in contact with.”
Quinn bobbed his head in understanding, though the lines creasing his forehead deepened the pout he had been sporting into a scowl. “So wait, was that why I was so receptive to Surina’s little induction spiel?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sebastien replied simply, though the twitch of his upper lip gave him away. “Come, the others are waiting for us.” Having changed the subject, the man quickly turned around and headed back through the mirror, leaving Quinn with no choice but to follow after him.
Returning to the living room/open concept kitchen revealed Surina mopping up a puddle of spilt horchata, though she didn’t appear too unhappy about the chore. But taking one glance at Leo exposed the reason for her good temperament, as the man dabbed at the soaked crotch of his pants with a paper towel, a grimace etched on his face. “So sticky…” he grumbled.
“I thought you said you’d watch them?” Quinn said to Jared with a chuckle.
“I did watch them,” the Death God rebutted. “No one said anything about intervening.”
“Touché.”
Surina stood, tossing the soiled dish rag into the sink.
“Well I’m about ready to go,” she declared, picking up her bag; her boots already back on her feet. “You two done with your little pow-wow?”
“For now,” Sebastien said as Quinn and Jared slipped their shoes back on, taking the bags they had left at the door with them. “Everything ready Leo?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Leo groused gesturing to the quill he had brought that now sat on the coffee table.
“Bueno,” the Seer said, turning to Quinn. “Well I guess this is goodbye for now, but I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon… so to speak.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Hearing a light hiss, Quinn craned his head in time to see Jared lift the jagged edge of the quill from the palm of his hand now coated in a thin layer of his blood. The God of Death stooped to the floor drawing a line along the polished wood, before standing, his stroke now moving upward. The blood continued to flow from the feather hanging there in midair as Jared’s movements created an arched entry.