Nobody tells you about the moment that your life changes. There are no warnings, no signs, nothing you can look back on and say “How could I have missed that?” It’s abrupt. It’s as if your life is a perfect balloon, floating peacefully until one day it pops, and you’re left dealing with the pieces. Everything is normal, a perfect routine that you are familiar with, until chaos descends and suddenly everything is in disarray.

  In Eos’s case, it wasn’t just her life, but the lives of all of mankind and gods alike.

  The day started normal, just as it does for everyone whose life changes in an instant. Eos sat on her lounge chair, following her daily routine of sipping tea in the celestial Library of Destiny and watching her best and most stubborn recruits bicker over petty disagreements.

  Since the start of time, Eos had been writing out the fates of all those who live and breathe, ranging from those of great power such as gods, to those of little ability, like simple woodland creatures. She manipulated the threads of fate with her words, turning her stories into reality and assigning each thread to a person.

  Although she’d been doing her job well for the longest time, she began to slow down as the passing of time started to get to her and she realized she needed help.

  After eons, Eos couldn’t stand the overwhelming work alone and decided to write a soul into existence.

  For the first time in eternity, Eos hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the page, Quill of Destiny trembling ever so slightly as the threads of fate around her shuddered in quiet anticipation. To write a soul was not the same as writing a fate. It was creation, an irreversible act that was not a part of Eos’s primary role. Eos knew the rules that she herself had woven into existence and knew that no being, not even she, was able to break the celestial rules regarding the roles of deities. And yet, she pressed the quill to the page and began to write.

  As soon as she lifted her hand from the page, the threads of fate began to twist and turn, manipulating themselves into the form of something more recognizable: a man. They swirled, bringing color to the figure until in place of a scroll stood a tall man with wavy blue hair. Awareness seemed to hit the man all of a sudden as his eyes gained a spark of life. Grey eyes focused on black as the man took in the smaller woman standing in front of him.

  Standing a little below eye level, the woman stared back at him with two eyes that appeared to be as dark as the endless void. The third, however, glowed with an unnatural intensity, revealing her true celestial nature. As the man observed her, he noted her unnatural golden hair, her flowing sage robes, and the golden veil that seemed to float above her head. The woman beamed up at him, took his hand and uttered one simple word that brought realization to the man, “Lysander.”

  Suddenly, Lysander knew everything he needed to know, ranging from his purpose on the celestial plane to who his creator was . His gaze focused on his creator and he nodded curtly, muttering a single word in response.

  “Eos.”

  Eos studied him for a long moment, the glow of her third eye dimming as the threads around them slowly stilled as if listening in on the two celestial beings.

  “You understand what you are,” she said.

  Lysander nodded, his expression firm. “Yes, and I understand why I exist.”

  Eos flashed him a smile and nodded,

  “Perfect, then let us get to work.”

  * * *

  Time moved differently after that. Side by side, the two worked together in the Library of Destiny, Eos guiding him through the delicate art of reading fates and ensuring that nothing changes. The work felt lighter to Eos. Occasionally, a mortal will attempt to defy fate, to break free from the golden threads that hold him back and write his own destiny. Situations like these call for attention from a certain eternal, namely, Lysander, the Scribe of the Divine Order.

  One day, as Eos was reminiscing on the eras before mortals roamed the earth with Lysander in the Library of Destiny, the threads around them seemed to still. She paused mid-sentence, listening for any ripples in the cosmic order. Time paused as silence overcame the duo, leaving an uneasy feeling. Lysander looked up from his spot on the armchair opposite to her.

  “Eos?” He asked, “What is it?”

  Eos placed a hand on her chest and closed her eyes, listening in on the voices of fate whispering all around her. Her brows furrowed as the voices grew in volume, whispers crashing against her mind like waves against a shore. They were deafening, leaving Eos in a trance that she couldn’t break out of as she sank deeper beneath the waves, suffocating under all the voices. She tried to move, tried to scream, but no matter how hard she tried to break free, she just sank deeper, drowning. She feared that she would sink to unreachable depths where even she couldn’t break out of when she heard a muffled voice.

  “Eos!”

  Suddenly her eyes shot open and met with her loyal scribe’s worried ones. His hands were on her shoulders, grounding her as she trembled and attempted to catch her breath.

  “This isn’t written,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the dark oak floor.

  Lysander nodded with understanding, letting go of her shoulders and offering her his hand, pulling her up once she took it. “Then someone has stepped outside fate.”

  “Lysander,” she said carefully, “there are forces at play that even I cannot observe directly. I need you to go where I cannot.”

  He turned to her, something resolute settling into his expression. “Then write me the path.”

  Eos shook her head. “I won’t,” she said. “This one must be yours,” sighing, she dusted herself off, "It’s nothing but another foolish mortal most likely, but you know what you have to do.” She lifted her hands in front of her, causing the golden threads to begin to circle each other, growing until they revealed a picture of a back alley in a small village. Lysander peered into the portal, observing the scenery before glancing back at Eos.

  “Then I suppose it’s time I earned my existence, no?” He grinned and then he stepped into the portal and was gone, the threads fizzling out behind him.

  Eos clasped her hands together, gaze locked on where Lysander had previously stood.

  “Good luck, my scribe. May destiny be on your side.”

  The alley was ridden with filth, trash bags lined the walls and a horrid stench hit Lysander as he walked through the portal. He sighed. Dealing with mortals wasn’t something that he necessarily felt like doing but it was a part of the job description as the Scribe of the Divine Order. Lysander glanced back at the swirling, golden portal he had just stepped through and saw Eos’s fading for a moment before the portal shrank and fizzled t. He stood there for a short while, simply staring at the spot where the portal had been before taking a deep breath and turning on his heel, heading down the alley and into the street.

  Although the scribe knew that he had come to find a foolish mortal and put him in his place, he had no idea where he was nor where he was meant to be. Hesitantly, he reached into his leather satchel and pulled out one of his many scrolls. Lysander had always hated asking for help, preferring to stay confused and stubborn rather than risk irritating or disturbing Eos, but in the current situation, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to find the man who’d been messing with fate without her assistance. Reaching into his satchel once more, he grabbed his golden quill and began to write, allowing it to glide across the scroll until they formed a simple sentence:

  “Eos, who exactly is the mortal that I’m looking for?”

  The words glowed for a moment before they faded and were replaced with new ones.

  “An older man, Harold Caldwell. He lives in a small shack near the village square. Search for him there.”

  Lysander thanked her before he rolled up the scroll along with his quill and tucked it back into his satchel. He glanced in the direction of the village square, took a deep breath, and started walking. The village looked worn down by age. Crooked cottages stood close together, their wooden frames angled and their old roofs sagging under patches of moss. The narrow road was thick with mud, and the air was cool and damp, carrying the smell of smoke and wet earth. It had just rained. Shuttered windows lined the way, silent and still. Lysander walked towards the village square, passing low stone walls and leaning posts, his footsteps the only sound in the quiet village. There was nothing but silence for quite some time as he walked along the short muddy roads until suddenly a loud metallic thud echoed throughout the village. He waited a moment, ensuring that he had correctly heard the strange noise before it echoed throughout the village once more.

  Lysander didn’t hesitate, darting towards the sound as his boots splashed in the mud and the crooked cottages blurred on the edge of his vision. Cold air stung at his lungs but he kept going, pushing past the pain as he burst into the town square only to be met with the sight of an older man throwing a girl into a wall.

  The older man glowered, stepping towards the girl who had slumped down and fallen onto a trashcan, knocking it over as he ran a hand over his balding head.

  “You little pest, you can’t do anything right!” He shouted before he grabbed a fistful of the girl’s crimson hair and pulled her up to her feet. She cried out in pain, swinging her fists at him in wild abandon, but he caught every blow with ease. After he had successfully restrained both her wrists, the man grabbed the girl by the throat and slammed her against the wall, flashing his yellow teeth at her as he increased the pressure around her throat.

  “You little brat,” he sneered, “I told you I’d catch you one day, didn’t I? DIDN’T I!?”

  Laughing hysterically, the man bashed the girl’s head against the wall, earning another yell from her as pain spread through her body. She swung at him hopelessly once more, aiming for anything she could reach: his nose, his jaw, his throat, but nothing worked, the man didn’t budge.

  “You shouldn’t have done it,” he moved closer, his body pressing against hers as he brought his face closer.

  “I told you to stop with all this magic nonsense, didn’t I? Told you that it would bring you nothing but confusion and pain, didn’t I?” The girl squirmed in his grasp, cracking an eye open to look at the man who currently held her life in his hand. She mustered up all the remaining courage that she felt in her soul before she stopped clawing at his grip and spat in his face.

  “Go to hell, Caldwell.” The girl snapped, her wavering voice filled with confidence although she felt nothing but fear.

  Glaring, the man wiped his face with the back of his palm and tightened his grip around the girl’s neck with his other hand. A look of pure anger flashed across his face, causing the girl’s confidence to waver slightly.

  “Why you little–”

  “Excuse me?”

  The man turned his head, slightly loosening his grip on the girl as his gaze locked on the strange blue haired figure standing in front of him.

  “What do you want, kid?” the man snapped, not releasing his hold on the girl, whose nose had begun bleeding. Lysander glanced at the girl, mentally noting her state and overall appearance before focusing back on the man.

  “Are you Harold Caldwell, by any chance?” he asked, earning a look of surprise from the older man before his expression hardened once more.

  “Who’s asking?” said the man, suspicion filling his tone.

  “Lysander, Scribe of the Divine Order. Now sir, I have received word that you’ve been meddling in the affairs of your fate and I have been sent to–”

  “Fate? I don’t know anything about fate, is this some kind of magic mumbo jumbo?”

  “No sir, now, I need to have a word with you to–”

  “Bah, I don’t want to listen to any of this magic nonsense! Now leave me alone, son. Can't you see I’m busy?” Caldwell turned his attention back to the squirming girl against the wall.

  Lysander sighed, he truly despised mortals. They never wanted to listen to reason if it could save their lives.

  He glanced back at the girl who was already looking at him with fear in her eyes. She looked no younger than sixteen, freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks as tears rolled over them. As she continued to squirm, Lysander noticed the scars littered across her body, this clearly wasn’t her first beating. Slightly hidden beneath her messy hair, ocean blue eyes focused on him, pleading silently. This girl was terrified.

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  For the first time in his eternal life, Lysander hesitated for a mortal. He didn’t know what it was or why he felt this way but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t leave this girl alone with Caldwell.

  He rubbed at the spot between his eyes, a small action done to fight the growing headache he felt as he started moving towards the man, determination filling his grey eyes. Alright, words don’t seem to be your thing. That’s fine, let’s try a more physical explanation then. His fist shot forward, connecting with the older man’s nose with a deafening crack and sending him stumbling back as blood spurted from his nose, causing him to drop the girl in the process. She fell to her knees, wiping the blood from her nose with the back of her palm before she focused on the strange blue haired man in front of her. Lysander reached over and grabbed Caldwell by the collar of his shirt, lifting him off the ground with ease.

  “I came only to put you in your place, but it seems I’ve solved another issue as well,” he shrugged, seemingly satisfied with the way that the day had unraveled. “Leave, before I decide to do much more than simply break your nose.”

  He tossed the older man aside as if he were nothing before he discreetly revealed the dagger attached to his satchel. Caldwell’s eyes widened with fear as he scrambled to his feet and rushed away, struggling to run properly without tripping but far too scared of Lysander to want to risk another second in his presence.

  Lysander watched him leave before he turned his attention back to the girl sitting against the wall and breathing heavily, her gaze focused on him.

  “Are you doing alright, kid?” He asked, offering her his hand. The girl narrowed her blue eyes and wiped more blood from under her nose, taking a moment to properly catch her breath before replying.

  “What do you think?” She scoffed, taking his hand as he pulled her up. She stumbled and Lysander grabbed onto her arms.

  “Careful, kid, you hit your head pretty hard there,” He stated. “I can try to heal you if you’d like?” Slowly, he moved the girl, who had been watching him with suspicion, to sit on a nearby trash can.

  “Well I didn’t hit my own head against the wall,” she grumbled. “It was stupid old man Caldwell.” Lysander nodded before he pulled out a scroll and scribbled down the word “Gauze”, causing the scroll to twist and turn before it took the form of a roll of gauze, which Lysander then used to wrap around the girl’s head. The gauze began to shimmer with a golden light, quickly sinking into the girl’s mind. He looked down at the girl and began to check her head for any injuries.

  “How are you feeling?” He asked before he finally looked back at the girl’s face. She was frozen, staring at him in awe.

  “What the hell just happened!?” She exclaimed all of a sudden, breaking the silence and slightly startling Lysander. “Wait, do you have powers? Why do you look like a blueberry? Is magic real? Oh my gods, I knew it! Can you teach me? Do I have powers? What–”

  “Woah there, kid,” Lysander interrupted. “Let’s not overwhelm me with questions now.” He patted her head awkwardly and chuckled. The girl just stared back with a judging look on her face, wondering if this man was messing with her.

  “I wouldn’t be asking so many questions if you could just explain what the hell just happened,” she shifted in her seat, practically vibrating with energy now. “I mean, you just easily beat old man Caldwell. Nobody’s been able to do that before!” Lysander sighed. This girl was going to be a handful, wasn’t she? He adjusted the strap of his satchel awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable by the constant questioning.

  “How about we start with an easy question first, what’s your name?” He smiled politely, unsure on how to properly act around children. Lysander hadn’t interacted with anyone except for Eos in a millenia and was hesitant on treating this child the same way. The girl tilted her head, confused by the simplicity of the question and the confusion in his thoughts.

  “Astrea, but who cares about that? How about we talk about what just happened? And I’m not a child, I’m 16!” She exclaimed once more. Lysander observed Astrea, trying to understand why she was so excited and vibrant only moments after being almost killed by a rather large old man.

  “Did you just…read my thoughts?” Lysander murmured, eyes widening. Astrea simply rolled her eyes, growing irritated from Lysander's evasive responses.

  “Yeah, I can do that. Now can we go back to what happened?” she snapped. Lysander hesitated once more, it seemed like he was doing a lot of that today. Silence surrounded the pair as Lysander stood still, temporarily disappearing into his thoughts. This girl clearly possessed some form of magical abilities, and the Divine Order could use that, but he also pitied her. She had clearly been beaten for a great majority of her life and she seemed to be completely alone. But he was unsure if Eos would approve of him bringing back a mortal child to the realm of fate. He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

  “Do you like your life here?” He asked bluntly. Astrea’s smile faded, the question had caught her off guard. Was she happy? Well she couldn’t remember what happiness felt like until now, until she may have discovered proof of magic being real.

  “No, but what does that–”

  “Would you like to come with me?” Lysander interrupted. The girl’s eyes widened, shocked.

  “Go with you?” She stammered. “Go where?”

  “Somewhere far away from here,” He offered her his hand. “Somewhere where you can be happy.” His words struck a chord in Astrea. Somewhere she could be happy? Did a place like that exist? She had been alone her entire life so why was it changing now? Had the Gods finally heard her prayers? Had they finally realized her true potential? She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and searching deep in her mind, tapping into her ability.

  “Gods above,” she muttered under her breath to no one in particular. “Should I go with him?”

  Silence. She heard nothing. Her fears began to creep in as she began worrying that her deities had left and that she was overthinking the entire situation before she heard a faint voice.

  Yes.

  Astrea didn’t hesitate. Grinning, her eyes snapped open and she grabbed Lysander’s hand. “Let’s go, blueberry boy!”

  Lysander shook his head, sighing. “Don’t call me that.” he grumbled as the two set off through the muddy roads of the village.

  “So, we’re going to this massive magical library that this three-eyed sort of blind lady owns and we’re going to live there for all of eternity?” Astrea asked bluntly. The pair had been walking for quite some time, talking about their destination and searching for another portal that Eos had left for them. Lysander sighed, feeling yet another headache approaching.

  “Essentially,” He muttered, “and her name is Eos, not ‘three-eyed sort of blind lady’” He glared at the red-haired menace next to him. He’d only known her for less than an hour but this girl was seriously irritating him with her ceaseless questions. She only shrugged in response.

  “Fine, Eos, whatever, and she’s going to teach me magic?”

  Lysander nodded, keeping his eyes focused on the path ahead so as to restrain himself from knocking the girl out just to stop her from asking questions, “If she deems you worthy of it.”

  “I am worthy!” Astrea whined, tugging on his sleeve. He rubbed his eyes, growing more irritated.

  “She will be the judge of that, now let’s keep moving, we’re burning daylight.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her along, causing her to stumble slightly and scowl at him.

  “You don’t talk much do you?” She turned to face him, properly observing his appearance and mannerisms. She noted his clenched jaw and the way his left hand constantly fidgeted with the strap of his satchel. Lysander was clearly irritated and on the verge of snapping so Astrea pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze to the ground as they kept walking.

  Silence enveloped the pair as neither of them dared to speak, Astrea not wanting to irritate him and Lysander not wanting to be questioned further. A sense of comfort filled them as they walked, the silence was not uncomfortable but rather welcome. They felt safe with each other, even though they greatly irritated each other. Astrea kicked a rock along the path, hands in her pockets as she hummed a faint tune before she suddenly stopped, causing Lysander to stop with her.

  “What is it?” He asked, breaking the silence as he turned to face her. Astrea was frozen in place, looking off into the distance at something that Lysander could not see. He waved a hand in front of Astrea, trying to catch her attention. “Astrea?” He asked once more, but still he received no reply. Suddenly, Astrea turned and began walking in the opposite direction, letting go of Lysander’s hand.

  “Woah, wait!” Lysander started to run after her, calling out her name repeatedly in hope that she would stop and reply to him but she seemed in a trance, walking along the muddy roads with a blank expression. He caught up to her and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around and grabbing onto her shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “Astrea?” He called out frantically, shaking her gently, but she still would not respond. He continued to shake her until he heard a faint voice in his mind.

  Let her go.

  His eyes widened with recognition before he let go of Astrea, who immediately turned and started walking off again. Lysander followed beside her quietly, watching over her to ensure that she wouldn’t hurt herself in her trance. As the two walked through the muddy streets of the village, time flew by as the sun began to set and the moon came creeping in. Astrea turned yet another corner, Lysander still following her as she stopped in front of a golden portal. She stood still for a moment before she loudly gasped and placed a hand on her head.

  “Gods,” she groaned, rubbing her eyes. “Your god is rather demanding, isn’t she? She wouldn’t stop saying ‘turn left, turn right, no go back’!”

  Lysander tilted his head, confused. “My god?” He repeated before he seemed to realize something. “Eos was speaking with you?”

  “Correct, blueberry boy,” She grinned, rubbing her right eye. Speaking to a deity for a long period of time always drained Astrea, and usually she’d need at least three hours of rest after to recover, but now she didn’t have an option nor did she want to since the day was just starting to get interesting. “Now, can we go through this big glowing thing? I’m invested.”

  Lysander stood frozen in his spot, trying to process the past thirty minutes. Had this red-haired menace really spoken to Eos and led him to the portal? He knew she possessed some power but he had no idea it was enough to speak to the gods!

  “Er, yeah, but how did you do that? How did you speak to Eos?” Lysander stammered, his eyes giving off a look of both suspicion and respect for this child.

  She turned around and gave him a look as if to ask if he was serious before she scoffed and ran a hand through her messy hair.

  “You didn’t answer me when I asked you what happened back there with old man Caldwell, so why should I answer you now?” She flashed him a grin before she stepped into the portal. Lysander gripped the strap of his satchel in an attempt to calm himself before he followed suit, muttering under his breath.

  “Stupid red-haired menace.”

  As soon as they stepped through the portal, the Library of Destiny reappeared in front of the pair and the portal fizzled out behind them. Lysander seemed to regain his confidence as he strode in front of Astrea, attempting to lead her past multiple bookshelves and into Eos’s office. However, Astrea strayed behind, spinning excitedly as she took in her surroundings.

  While most mortals would be overwhelmed in this situation, the Library brought a comforting sense to Astrea. Golden threads hung from the ceiling, looping around the extravagant chandelier in the middle and splitting off into smaller threads, each trailing off and connecting to one of many books that resided in the Library’s bookshelves. The scent of sandalwood and aged paper wafted through the air, entrancing Astrea more on the beauty and mystery of the Library. Lysander spun around, noticing that she had stopped following him.

  “Astrea?” He called out in an attempt to catch her attention. She hadn’t moved, looking up at the threads of fate creating an intricate pattern on the ceiling.

  “I’ve seen this before,” She mumbled. “In my visions.”

  Lysander strode over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder to ground her. “What?” He muttered. “How could you have–”

  “Because I allowed her to.” A familiar voice said from behind the pair. Lysander and Astrea spun around, searching frantically in an attempt to locate the source of the voice.

  “Over here, darlings,” The voice repeated once more before the threads of fate branched off from the ceiling and trailed down in front of the pair. The threads began to swirl and glow until they took the form of a familiar goddess, Eos.

  “Welcome home, Lysander, and greetings to you, Astrea.” She flashed Astrea a warm smile. Astrea stood still for a moment before she took a deep breath and exclaimed. “Oh my gods, it’s the three-eyed sort of blind lady!” to which Lysander facepalmed and shook his head.

  Eos merely chuckled in response, waving off the mortal girl’s comment. “I suppose you could call me that, but I’d much rather you didn’t,” She glided over to Astrea and extended her hands, offering them to her. “Now, welcome to the Library of Destiny, your new home.”

  “My new home?” Astrea repeated.

  “Yes,” She closed her eyes, leaving her third one open. “I see potential in you, Astrea Clairmont. I would like to give you the opportunity to expand your abilities under the teachings of Lysander and myself. Do you accept?”

  Astrea’s eyes gained a certain shine to them. Her answer to this very question could give her a chance to have the life she had always wanted, and she’d be insane to throw it away. She took Eos’s hands and smiled.

  “I accept.”

  Eos enjoyed reminiscing about the past, often falling into a trancelike state as she thought back to how she met her two most loyal recruits, but she always snapped out of it in the end due to an interruption, and the current interruption that snapped her out was the cold threat of the first recruit of the Divine Order, Lysander.

  “Astrea, if you don’t aim that arrow away from my head, I will take all of your daggers away from you and hide them in the underworld. I’m not particularly in the mood to be injured today.”

  “Then stop moving and let me shoot the apple, it’ll be over quickly!” Astrea shot back. When Eos opened her eyes once more, she took a moment to properly take in the amusing scene in front of her: Astrea stood at one end of the room, bow in hand with her arrow pulled back and aimed at her mentor, Lysander, who was standing still with his arms crossed and a big, shiny, red apple on his head. Both of them had grown as time passed, Astrea now standing tall with a confident grin on her face, rivaling how she had initially acted when Lysander found her, and he now seemed more cold in his mannerisms. His once short, blue hair was tied into a bun as he glared at his student.

  “Astrea.” He growled threateningly, however Astrea didn’t falter, simply pulling the arrow back further. “Stay still!” she snapped at her mentor.

  “Astrea.” Eos said calmly, breaking her silence. Astrea turned to face her, flashing her an innocent smile but not before letting go of the arrow. It whizzed through the air, heading straight for Lysander and the apple. He shut his eyes, bracing for an impact that never came as the arrow shot ahead and stabbed into the apple, sending it flying off of Lysander’s head.

  “Yes, Eos?” Astrea smiled innocently, turning to face her, she hid the bow behind her back as if she could hide what she had done. Eos simply smiled and shook her head, used to the mortal girl’s shenanigans.

  “You know the rules, darling, you listen to Lysander if you wish to train with us.” She reminded her calmly, a soft look in her eyes. Astrea sighed and rested her bow on a nearby coffee table.

  “Fine,” she mumbled, lowering her gaze. “Sorry Lysander…”

  Lysander walked over and ruffled her hair, earning a yelp from her. “It’s alright, you little menace.”

  Eos sat back down on her lounge chair, smiling as she observed her most loyal recruits. The bickering had subsided and all was becoming peaceful as she took some time to simply relax. She thought she could take some time to herself to focus on her writing away from the constant bickering and chaos that came from her recruits but of course, there was no such thing as relaxing in the Divine Order. As soon as she closed her eyes, she felt a slight tug at the sleeve of her dress. Eos sighed, somewhat frustrated that her relaxation had been disturbed as she turned to look down at her sleeve. A thread of fate had curled around her sleeve and had begun curling around her wrist. It gave her a light tug as if beckoning her to follow it.

  “What is it?” she whispered but the thread’s only response was tugging on her wrist once more. Sighing, she stood up, following the thread that seemed to come from her office. Once she walked into the office, she noticed that the thread was attached to a rolled up scroll that lay on her desk and emitted a golden glow. As she neared the scroll, it unravelled, revealing a destiny that she had not written herself. She lifted it, reading out the words that resided on the scroll that would reveal the fate of humanity to her. All three of her eyes widened as she gasped.

  “Oh no…”

  This changes everything.