Ex Nihilo - Abyssal Prophecy

Chapter 32

Standing outside the door to the Moirae weaving chamber, Helena could hear the spinning looms. She turned to motion to her retinue to stay here. As she approached the door, it whisked open to reveal the chamber of the Moirae family and Clotho and her family working away. She entered with slow steps, trying not to disturb the work.

            “Come, Helena,” Clotho rasped. “We’ve been expecting you for some time. Please don’t linger in the doorway in fear.”

            The ladies laboured away, spinning linen into cloth. Clotho motioned for Helena to take a seat in front of the looms. The churning looms were being fed by Lachesis with her daughter Atropos cutting some of the strands, and Clotho pumped the loom with her foot while weaving the various strands of linen together. The sight filled Helena with a sense of dread.

            Helena sat and watched the family working away. Atropos continued feeding and severing threads, but then she took one in her hand, held the thread in her fingers, and dangled it in between the shears.

            “Ah, not sure if that is the right one to cut, my dear?” Clotho asked.

            Atropos silently stared at Helena.

            “How does she know which one to cut?” Helena asked.

            “Fate instructs my, my dear. Now and again, Atropos finds a thread of uncertainty. Right now, she is listening to the whispers of fate to help guide her decisions.”

            “It’s just one thread. It looks like what you’re working on is composed of thousands of threads. How big of a deal could it be if she cut the wrong one?” Helena inquired with curiosity.

            Clotho ceased pumping her foot, but Atropos held the strand in between the scissors. Lachesis patted her daughter on the head and then continued to draw threads from the basket to be inspected. The new threads were ignored by the little girl who wouldn’t stop staring. Helena could feel her anxiety rising, and it was hard to breathe.

Clotho just smiled at her guest.

            “A single thread can change everything, my dear,” she instructed. “In the right place a single thread can strengthen the cloth or weaken it by being misplaced. Much like life each piece of cloth is woven from many threads coming together. Each Every single thread is important to the overall quality of the tapestry. My granddaughter’s job is to sever the threads when they are finished or before they even start. In this way, she is responsible for the integrity of the final product.”

            “Why would you trust such a heavy responsibility to a child?” Helena asked.

            “Because children are the future. I can sense your anxiety, my dear. Tell me why you’ve come.”

            “Didn’t you say you were expecting me?”

            Pumping the peddle Clotho resumed her work. She hummed away, not answering the question. Lachesis pulled a new thread from the basket still soaked in blood and handed it to her daughter. Atropos let the current thread hang and reached to grab, inspect, and then pass the thread to her grandmother.

            “Ah, this is a good thread, my dear. The strength of this thread will add to the composition.” Clotho turned back to Helena. “Just because I knew you were coming doesn’t mean you know why you are here.”

            Helena worried about the actions she’d taken to seize the Alcatraz. Her husband would eventually return. Even now, she worried about the fate of her daughter Angelica on the bridge. Uncertainty swirled around her in that moment. She glanced back to the door debating in her mind to leave. It was then she noticed the words inscribed above the door.

            “Nosce te ipsum.” Helena said aloud before turning back. “I never noticed those words before Lady Clotho. What do they mean?”

            “Those words were handed down by my family since the beginning, and they mean know thyself. Something I can see you’re struggling with.” Clotho said turning to her granddaughter. “Come now child do not linger. Sever the thread or continue feeding it to me. The work will not wait any further for you to make a decision over a single thread no matter how important.”

            “I’ve come to ask you to determine my future,” Helena blurted.

            Clotho stopped the loom again and stared with her blind eyes. She stroked her chin and, with a glance at Atropos, she smiled.

            “Now it all makes sense why my granddaughter lingers on that thread. You have come as you did before your marriage when your father, Lord Whelsey, promised you to Gabriel. I remember your fear and apprehension that day, and it seems you find yourself in the same uncertain position today. I admit I did not see your seizing of the Alcatraz in the vision of fate, but that is not unexpected in a universe burdened with free will. The wheel of fate is constant in its movement, and you wish to know what your choice has cost you.”

            “I beg you to tell me, and I’ll give you all the blood you need,” Helena promised.

            “No need, my child. We already have the excess blood that drained off your first ritual. It was stored for a long time in our vault.” Clotho looked at the blood on the linen. “This is your blood and fate we’ve been spinning in expectation of your arrival. I must say, you will not like the answers waiting for you here today.”

            Helena felt a chill. She stared into Atropos’s eyes. It was her life thread that the little girl was debating to cut. She struggled to catch her breath.

            Atropos released the strand she was holding and withdrew her scissors.  Clotho fed the threads into the loom to be woven.

            “You were not meant to seize the Alcatraz from your husband, and now you have placed yours and your daughter’s life in the balance. Whether you realize it or not, you’ve aided death by your action. There is only one action you can take to spare your daughter’s life--and perhaps your own.”

            “What should I do?” Helena asked.

            “You must trust in fate to correct your injustices. When your husband returns, surrender the Alcatraz to him despite what you believe it will cost you. If you try to steal control from fate, you’ll bring certain doom upon you and your daughter.” Clotho looked at Atropos, still staring at the thread with the scissors in one of her hands. Helena couldn’t decide what to do.

            “You don’t need to make a decision now, my dear. Heed my words when the time comes and all will be well for you after a period of suffering. Make your own choice, regardless.” Clotho returned to her work.

            Standing up, Helena bowed to the three weavers before turning to leave the room.  Atropos stared, still holding the. Seeing this caused Helena to rush out the door.