Gods Save the Princess (Grace of Gods Book 2) (22 page)

"Great." This was such a waste of time; I turned around to go back up the stairs when they stopped suddenly about five steps up with nothing beyond them but a stonewall. "Oh, come on! Not this again..."

I glanced back behind me and took a deep breath, closing my eyes before making my way down to the grate again. "Fine. It's not like I can go anywhere else then, can I?" I grabbed the bars and carefully began shifting myself around trying to make it easier to slip my body down into the hole.

As soon as I let go to let myself fall it was almost as if I hit the mat of a trampoline and my body bounced back out of the hole. Flying in an arch, I twisted around to see where I was about to land screaming in horror as I saw a wall descend upon me as I flew. I held out my hands hoping be able to catch something or propel myself off the wall when we collided. But as I went into the wall it gave way under my form and I was sucked right through, launched further into the stone.

Being pulled through the rock but not feeling it was the strangest sensation. My mind expected to feel the impact and the scratching of the jagged edges. There was nothing to be felt except the wind gushing past me as I continued to fly through the stone.

I came out on the other side and was strewn onto the floor in a heap at the feet of the judges.

"Valentina." One of them said in surprise, echoed then by the other two. Apparently that was not the effect any of us were expecting from the pit. Tartarus, Tartarus, Tartarus... They repeated as if I was just going to brush myself off and try again. I stared up at them from where I was laying on my back, white patches of pain in front of my eyes. 

"What happened?" One of them asked me and I had half a mind to point out that I was expecting the same answer from them. But if neither of us knew then what had gone wrong? I shrugged, closing my eyes as a wave of dizziness hit me.

"You were meant to descend into Tartarus."

"What is Tartarus?" They muttered to themselves in that foreign tongue again as I finally opened my eyes and helped myself up. My body felt weak from my flight. The dizziness doubled when I stood up and I held my head to keep the room from spinning.

None of them spoke again to me for a long time as they conversed amongst themselves. I grew bored quickly of their argument and looked toward the wall where the door had been. Of course, like everything else here, it was gone again. Well, at least I didn't have to use the trampoline pit again.

"Can someone please tell me what is going on, what Tartarus is and why I couldn't enter it?" I was fairly certain I didn't want to know what Tartarus was, but they were pretty adamant that I was supposed to go down into it. My questions went unanswered though as the judges finally shook their head in bewilderment and descended from their pedestal in a line, gliding over the floor toward the stone wall at the back.

They'd left their book on the stand so I took this opportunity to move quickly up to it, expecting to see some kind of explanation in its pages. But much like Hades' book the writing disappeared when I looked down at it, replacing itself with new text.

It was my name, written over and over again.

Chapter Eighteen

I flipped maniacally through the pages, hoping that eventually there wouldn't be a page with my name on it before growing annoyed and slamming the book shut. There was a loud scream that made me jump as I turned around, looking over my shoulder for the source of the noise before looking back down at the book.

I reluctantly opened it again, greeted with the sound of thankful murmurs. In bewilderment, I looked down at the pages that remained blank this time. Senseless noises still bubbled from it but nothing happened. It wasn’t alive, I thought ferociously but still little whispers crept from the pages. A mixed sense of horror and fascination spread through me before I touched the pages again gently. The book didn’t say anything else although I knew there was something strange and magical about it.

Heaving a sigh and stepping away from the podium I turned toward the wall the judges had left through. It had reverted back into being nothing more than a rocky surface and they were probably long gone. However, if there was a door there I decided it was going to make itself known to me.

Reaching the stone I set my hand against it and pushed. I have to admit I didn't expect it to work, pulling back in surprise as the door swung open. I marvelled at my power. It didn't last long though as I forced myself to walk through and into this new dark hallway. I had no where else to go for now, save try to follow the judges into the darkness. I simply hated imagining descending into the unknown once more with Gods knew what waiting for me at the bottom. I paused for a second peering thoughtfully into the shadows when I decided to try something else.

Clapping my hands, I said loudly: "light." Floating candles suddenly illuminated the hallway and I grinned to myself. "So you are still there." I whispered to myself, knowing she could hear me. "I could use you right about now if you’re not busy." But that wasn't true and Persephone knew it. We were uniting. Slowly but surely we were becoming one. I wouldn't hear her anymore because I was her. My thoughts and ideas were hers.

I smiled to myself, feeling a confidence surge in my chest as I made my way down the path that had been lit up. I expected to hear the whispers of the judges at the end. Or at least their breathing as they had done before but I was alone. I felt the loneliness following me as I trailed through the passage and stopped outside of three wooden doors.

This was something I recognised, even without a frog or toad somewhere telling me one door would take me where I wanted and one door would bring my death, but what about the third door? I stared between the three; trying to figure out which one I was going to choose, looking for some kind of sign of which one I needed.

Cerberus had three heads; he always bumped me with the left one first. So I decided then that this was a sign, moving toward the left hand door and pushing it open before I had time to change my own mind. Second guessing in these situations always led to trouble.

The room was bright, at least brighter than the last had been. And this time it wasn't due to candles but natural light. My heart skipped a beat at the prospect of having found freedom. When I turned to the light source I let out a very disappointed breath when I saw it was natural light but it wasn't all that natural. A rudimentary window had been carved in the far wall of the room, reflecting not what lay beyond the cavern but a mother lying in a hospital bed holding her newborn child, still covered in blood and placenta.

I still smiled at the scene, taking pleasure in the woman's happiness even though I didn't know her. She looked up at her husband and grinned proudly at him, "we'll call him Henry, after your father." The father smiled, nodding his head and leaned down to kiss both mother and child on the forehead.

"Henry Phillippi!" A woman crooned from behind me, making me start in surprise. Before me were three women standing on a similar pedestal to that of the judges. One was next to a spinning wheel, like in the fairy tales, winding it quicker and quicker while the one beside her pulled the spun thread. The last one reached out with a pair of gilded scissors and cut the thread from the bundle.

I turned around to ask the significance of the babe when  frantic voice filled the room: ”why isn't he crying?!" I turned back to the window, seeing a different woman craning over the nurses and family members blocking her view, trying to see her child. She spoke again and I noted it wasn't actually in English but then, milliseconds later I understood, "what's wrong? Is he okay? Is Mikel okay?"

"Mikel Zakharov." I turned quickly to the women, watching the first spin the thread, the second barely pull it and the third cut it off that I couldn’t tell if she had even gotten any thread.

I glanced back at the screen to see what had happened but it had already changed. I frowned to myself and moved toward the women.

"Hello?" They stopped what they were doing, all frozen in time as they turned to stare at me. I stared in horror as I took them each in: they had holes in their forehead and only the furtherest one – the one with the scissors – had an eye set in the socket. They seemed bewildered that I was there, and then they seemed perplexed like I had asked something from them. I tried again, "hello?"

"Valentina MacMillan." The spinner spun the thread and the measurer measured finally the cutter stepped up to do her job and I held up my hand.

"Stop, I don't want to know." I had a feeling whatever they did here was important, consequential and if my being here changed anything that had been predetermined I didn't want to risk it.

"Griffin Kovalevsky." But this time I watched as she spun the thread, the measurer measured, and the cutter cut. She held up the string and it certainly looked shorter than the other one she had done, even mine, which she had begun to pull. The cutter held it out it out to me and I approached them with caution, holding my hand out to accept it.

It was a fine gold thread that slipped between my fingers before I caught it in the last second. It held an importance I could tell but of what I didn't know. The old women were all looking down at me expectantly like I was supposed to give them something or at least go away satisfied, but I didn't understand. What were these threads they were creating?

"So, you know my name... Can I know yours?"

"Klotho."

"Lakhesis."

"Aisa."

Each one after another answered me and I nodded, noting that these names too would be easily forgotten. What I didn't understand though was why these women, who obviously dealt more in life than death, would live in the Underworld. Were they hidden away here because they were old and ugly? Or was there something more nefarious going on here than what I could surmise?

"Nice to meet you." I said as politely as I could manage before throwing in a smile for good luck, "would you mind... explaining..." I held up the small thread in my fingers to them, twirling it between my digits before dropping it back to my side.

"We are the Moirai. We are the givers of fate." Fate. So they determined what happened to people in their lives.

"So... I'm supposed to be here then?" They stared at me for a long time, in an unnerving way that started to make me think that maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be here. That made me more worried, if I wasn't supposed to be here that could set off a chain of events like a butterfly effect.

"We delve out the lots of life." One of them clarified for me, but it only made me more confused.

"So," I said slowly, "you... decide how long people's lives are going to be?" My heart knotted as I glanced down at Griffin's thread. "How do I tell how long this is?" I said to them, looking back up in an obvious desperation. The women didn't say anything else to me as they looked down at their work and carried on. In the background I heard another baby cry, its name given and one of the Moirai announced the full name to her sisters.

I swallowed hard and looked back at Griffin's thread. It wasn't that short... It just wasn't particularly long. I looked back up at them as they worked and decided, as I watched each thread be pulled and cut, that his was actually shorter no matter how much I wanted to try and sugarcoat it for myself.

Then that meant… how much time did he have left? How was I supposed to use this thread to figure that out? Was I supposed to save him? Maybe I should ask for my own thread.

I moved toward the women, clamping the small thread in the ball of my palm as I got closer, "what do I do with it?" I said more firmly, trying to command an answer from them. But they worked on diligently, ignoring my question and still shouting out names. I sighed, turning away and glancing around the room for what to do next when Aisa tapped my shoulder.

I turned toward her, hoping for an answer but she simply held out a small bag, "when you understand you will see." She said to me with an affirmative nod before turning back to her work: cutting and discarding, cutting and discarding. What happened to the threads once they were cut? Surely they didn't keep them in that massive pile for all of eternity, or however long someone's life was deemed to be...

I stared in frustration at the bag she gave me, wanting to look at it but getting the impression she didn't think I deserved to yet. I just had to get out of here and then I could look in the bag and maybe then I could figure out Griffin's thread. I unceremoniously stuffed the bag into my bra, the only other place I could keep it, before descending the platform and heading back for the wall I entered through. I was back in the hallway but it was dark again, I didn't bother to clap this time as I shouted for light and it appeared. I was exhausted; I just wanted to go back to the apartment if I wasn't ever going to get out of the Underworld.

I looked down at the thread still woven between my fingers like a tiny collection of rings and held it up into the light. It was nothing more than a simple thread someone might use to sew a shirt or linen with. I didn't understand how something so fragile and simple could be so powerful. I twisted my hand around to look at it again when a photo leapt out of the thread, displaying itself in midair. Before I could ever see what I was looking at it was gone again as my hand settled.

I frowned to myself, pulling my hand back closer to my body and unwound the thread from between my fingers. Pinching it between my thumb and forefinger in both hands I started twisting the thread in the same motion as my hand had done.