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“ T ales have been spun of the legends of old, spanning centuries and centuries ago. ”

“ Long before your kingdoms rose and fell, ”

“ And before your empires swelled. ”

“ But it’s time for us to weave our own, ”

“ For the end now readily awaits. ”

“ I am the Creator. ”

“ I am the Changer. ”

“ And I am the Ender. ”

“ Together, they call us the Fates . ”

“ Now, come closer. ”

“ Listen well. ”

“ Let us tell you a story, ”

“ Of the king who thought he could trick the Fates, ”

“ And was cursed with his own crown of glory. ”

Nyses Grimaldi dismounted swiftly, taking in the blazing flames and scorched stone.

“My King!” a priest called as he approached with singed white robes trailing in the dirt. The elderly man’s face was streaked with ash, his eyes full of distress.

“What is the meaning of this?” King Grimaldi boomed. His horse whinnied and pawed at the ground, wary of the burning temple before them.

“We do not know, sire,” the priest rushed out. “The bells were rung by an apprentice not half an hour ago. I only arrived moments before you.”

Nyses pulled on a pair of leather gloves and examined the destruction.

Flames licked at the outer walls of the pristine temple, the scent of burnt wood enveloping him.

Smoke rose against the night sky and smothered the stars looming above.

A handful of priests scampered around them to avoid the inferno.

“Y-Your Majesty, please,” the elderly priest begged.

“Is there anything you can do? We have already lost three acolytes to the flames. The sacred texts, our artifacts, our life’s work”—he paused and sucked in a breath, bringing a hand to his mouth as he gazed back at the temple—“ ruined . There must be a way to stop it.”

“And have you not petitioned your Fates?” Nyses asked, concealing the sneer in his tone.

“The Fates have—have not heard my pleas, Your Majesty.” The priest lowered his eyes and twisted his hands in his robe.

“Hmm,” Nyses responded, the sound rumbling through his chest. “Then perhaps they will answer your king.”

He strode toward the fire roaring at the temple, his mahogany cloak swishing at his heels. “You,” he caught an acolyte by the collar of his robes, hauling him backward, “show me where the altar is.”

The boy’s eyes widened and darted to the burning building. “In—in there, Your Majesty?”

“Yes,” the king said, the word blending with the hissing of flames in the background.

The acolyte swallowed. “Won’t we be harmed?”

Nyses rolled his eyes and pushed him toward the entrance. “If your Fates wish to keep their holy temple, they’ll surely protect their faithful. Now, show me .”

With trembling legs, the boy stumbled closer to the fire, bringing his robe up to shield his face from the smoke.

Heat licked at the king’s skin as they burst through rubble that was once the grand oak doors.

Wooden beams had fallen from the ceiling and lay scattered at the edges of the hall, weakened by the blaze.

The stone columns still supported the tall arches, leaving a mostly clear path for the acolyte and king to tread.

When they turned down another long hallway, a door to their right creaked and trembled with exertion as the heavy wood broke from its hinges and crashed to the ground mere inches from the boy’s feet. He leaped back in alarm with a yelp.

“The altar,” Nyses said curtly, hand still on his shoulder to lead him forward.

“B-But, Your Majesty?—”

“ Now ,” the king ordered.

With a reluctant nod, the acolyte crept down the corridor until it opened into an enormous chamber. A high vaulted ceiling and marble columns lined the path to a raised dais. Timber fell forty feet from the roof, landing before them in a crash of burning embers and ash.

“You may go,” Nyses said to the boy, who breathed out a sigh of relief. With one last look at his king, he pivoted on his heels and rushed back out of the crumbling temple.

Eyeing the stone altar before him, Nyses unclasped his robe from his neck and let it fall to the floor.

He ascended the dais with steady steps. The sounds of the crackling flames and creaking wood faded into the background as he ran his hand along the flat, rough top of the altar, stained red by the blood from centuries of sacrifices.

The temple of the Fates was the oldest temple in all of Mysthelm, nestled in the center of the Mid Territory. It had withstood the test of time and carried the bulk of sacred texts, historical records, and a plethora of artifacts representing the kingdom of Mysthelm’s faith in the Fates.

Nyses’s jaw ticked. The almighty temple, brought to its knees by flames of men.

He reached into his pocket and felt the cool edges of gold coins against his fingers.

Pulling out a handful, he dropped them atop the altar.

“A sacrifice of great value, offered willingly to the divine Fates of legend,” he said, his voice strong despite the sounds of beams crashing to the floor behind him.

“I humbly beseech your presence to help your followers conquer this great evil against your sanctuary.”

His eyes scanned the ceiling above him, waiting for some sign the three beings had heard his request. Surely, if they would answer for anything, it would be for the sake of their holy place.

He was met with silence.

Gritting his teeth, he yanked one glove off his hand and pulled his dagger from its sheath. He sliced a thin line down his palm, then brandished the wound over the altar and watched as red bubbled to the surface and spilled over, trickling onto the pile of gold.

A rush of wind broke through the heat radiating at his back.

“Put your flesh away, young king.”

Chills spread across Nyses’s skin at the feminine voice, a warning beating in his ears.

A second voice joined the first, this one higher and lighter. Ghostly fingers brushed his neck. “ Now, now, sister. I rather enjoy looking at his flesh. He is quite the handsome king, is he not? ”

“ Handsome, perhaps, but what lurks beyond those dark eyes? ”

There was a pause, and the air around Nyses swelled and pulsed, pushing at his skin. Clearing his throat, he said, “I have come to request the aid of the all-powerful Fates.”

“ We know why you’re here, Your Greatness. ”

“ Yes, Your Magnificence. We have seen your desires. ”

“Then why have you not stopped this fire? Don’t you wish to save your temple?” Nyses pressed.

A high-pitched giggle echoed off the stone walls, and the second voice spoke again. “ Tell us, oh great Nyses Grimaldi, ”

“ What would make the King of Mysthelm, ”

“ Burn his own temple to the ground? ” a third finished the question, a deeper female voice than the others. Her words reverberated in his very bones.

“ You have been a naughty king, Nyses Grimaldi. ”

He blinked. “I don’t know what you speak of.”

“ Perhaps you should have removed the kindling from your boots ?—”

Something hit the top of his boots, making him look down to see twigs and leaves from the forest underbrush knocked to the floor.

“ And cleaned the flint from your skin. ”

An invisible force gripped his wrist, holding it over the altar once more.

Nyses bit back a grunt as the cut on his hand burned and more blood fell to the stone.

Evidence of dark flint lingered on his bronze fingers.

A moment later, his arm was released, causing him to stumble forward into the altar.

A snarl ripped unbidden from his throat. “If you believe I am the one responsible, why would you appear to me?”

“ Because we are very curious beings. ”

“ Very curious, indeed. ”

“ Setting fire to your people? Letting them burn among the smoke and flames? You must be truly desperate to summon an audience with us. ”

A soft sensation fluttered at his ear as a voice purred, “ Yes, Nyses. So very desperate. ” Tender fingers traced a path to his neck, raising the hair on his arms.

In an instant, the fingers hardened and gripped his throat.

“ Well, Your Majesty? ”

“ What is it that you seek? ”

“Magic,” he spluttered, his fingers grasping at thin air around his neck.

The invisible hand vanished, replaced by a deep chuckle. The air buzzed with the pounding of blood rushing back to his head. Distantly, he heard more beams crashing to the ground as the fire continued to destroy the temple.

“ That’s what all of this was for? ” the voice asked. “ You desire magic? ”

He massaged his sore throat. “Yes,” he ground out. “Magic to rival that of the Veridian Empire. Magic you granted them.”

“ Magic they earned, Nyses. ”

“ The Veridian Empire defeated your kingdom over a century ago. ”

“ They conquered the power we offered to both of your lands. ”

“You asked what I sought,” Nyses said. “That is my answer. Magic to rule over my people. Magic to conquer my foes. Magic greater than what you have given our enemies.”

Smoke from the inferno billowed around the altar. When Nyses squinted, he thought he could see the form of three beings wavering in the haze, but they were gone when he blinked.

“ We will grant your request, Your Majesty. ”

He could have sworn his heart stopped. “You will?”

That same giggle from earlier tickled his ears. “ You intrigue us, King Nyses. The handsome ruler who scoffs at our existence, yet sheds his blood on our altar. ”

“ But this will intrigue us even more. ”

“What will?” he asked warily.

“ Not only will we give you this magic, ”

“ We will bestow it upon your entire bloodline as well. ”

“ The great Grimaldis, gods among men. ”

His breath caught, hardly able to believe what he was hearing. They were going to grant his life’s purpose. They were going to make him the most powerful king the world had ever known.

“ But be careful what you wish for, oh great King, ”

“ For the time may come when you will see, ”

“ This magic is more than you thought it would be. ”

Their voices blended together, and a pressure built at the base of his spine, working its way up his back and into his chest. His pulse thrummed in every inch of his body. Anticipation, fear, and desire coiled in each breath that shuddered through his lungs.

Before he could blink, the fire raging in the temple flickered out.

He was left in silence and darkness, with the scent of burning wood and thick smoke choking him.

“ You want to be greater than the Veridian Empire? ”

“ To rival them in power and strength? ”

The pressure reached his skull. It wrapped around him, pushing from all sides until he clutched his head with a groan. “What are you doing to me?” he cried out.

A deep laugh echoed in the temple. “ Giving you what you asked for. ”

“ The power to rule your people, ”

“ To keep your kingdom safe, ”

“ To protect against your foes. ”

“ Greater than what your enemies possess. ”

Images flared through Nyses’s mind. Slow and blurry at first, and then in rapid succession, the visions became clearer and clearer with each passing second.

His nightmares came to life.

Fields and homes razed to the ground. Unimaginable beasts prowled the earth, soldiers battled in pools of blood, spirits walked among the living. Crops and animals and land rotted before him. Screaming, mourning, pleading, crying.

Nyses gripped his hair and cried out in anguish. It burned the backs of his eyes, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t get the visions to cease.

“What is this?” he roared as his knees buckled and hit the hard floor.

“ The future, ” all three Fates said at once.

“ We have given you everything you have ever wanted, ” one said.

“ The greatest gift you could dream of. ”

That same ominous laugh filled the room.

“ And the greatest burden you could bear. ”

Behind his closed eyelids, he saw himself, but many decades in the future.

The same dark golden skin, wavy brown hair streaked with silver, a face sagging with wrinkles, and pain in his eyes.

He watched his older self fall to the ground in an empty bedchamber, his body seizing and shaking until suddenly, he went still.

“ Get up, King, ” one of the voices spat.

“ Did you think you could trick us? ”

“ Bargain with us? ”

“ Coerce us? ”

“ We are the Fates of this world, ” they responded together, the sound grating against his ears as they grew louder and louder.

“ You wished to be as powerful as us? ”

“ Then here you are. ”

“ You shall see as we see. ”

“ Know as we know. ”

“ And when your descendants suffer in their reigns of renown, ” the voice began with a hiss, no longer playful and toying.

“ Do not forget, oh great and mighty King, ”

“ That you are the one who cursed their crown. ”