Alexandra Sokoloff - Goddess of Fate

Aurora’s heart tightened at the thought. That was what Val was trying to carry Luke off to: service in the army of the gods.

But even if it was prophesied, that didn’t mean it had to be that way. Why should the world end in war and cataclysm? Why should the world end at all? It had always seemed to Aurora that the prophecy could be reversed by a little refocusing: less war and more, well, love...

“You better snap out of it, we’re almost there.” Val’s voice broke her train of thought.

Aurora looked up and realized they were already across the bridge: at the horizon line, the darkness shimmered and the sisters stepped as through a curtain.

At the very end of the bridge was a marble gatehouse—the dwelling of the god Heimdallr, who guarded the bridge from the giants, the Jotunn. He stood in gleaming gold armor at the crossroads of the worlds, always ready to sound the alarm if the evil beings tried to leave their own realm to overrun the world of gods or the world of men. It was only a matter of time before the giants made an assault on the other worlds; it, too, had been prophesied.

Aurora shivered. It was all so close. So close, and so fatal, unless someone did something...

Although the three sisters were still so far from Heimdallr they could barely see him, he stood from the throne of the guardhouse as they approached, looking toward them. Aurora had always felt safe, guarded, having the god posted as eternal sentry.

“My ladies.” He bowed to them, which was chivalry only; he far outranked them in the hierarchy. But all of the gods had a certain respect for the Norns; it had always been that way. Aurora was proud of the duty it implied. A duty she’d now trampled on, she realized with a pang, and felt a wave of guilt.

But I’m not going to let Luke die, not even for Odin. I won’t , she told herself, and lifted her chin. Val glanced at her, a narrowed gaze, as if she could hear Aurora’s thoughts.

“Sentry,” Lena said demurely as she bowed back to the god, and Aurora dropped a curtsy of her own.

“Lovely as ever,” Heimdallr added. “How is the world tonight?” he asked with a certain wistfulness. Aurora thought the sentry must be lonely, always on watch all by himself.

“Lovely as ever.” Lena smiled at him, and for a moment Aurora saw longing in the look that he returned her sister.

He wants her , Aurora thought, startled. Does Lena know?

But there was no time to think of that now. Heimdallr ushered them into the portal of the guardhouse. The sisters stepped through the arch of the guardhouse door—and into brilliant sunlight, so dazzling after the dark night of the other side that they all had to pause to get their bearings.

And then they looked out into the Wyrd.

Aurora often watched the young humans who came to the fairs and festivals in the park across from where Luke lived. When she saw them dancing on the grass with their psychedelic clothes and beatific smiles, the Wyrd was always what she thought of. Everything was alive and lit from within with a fairy-tale radiance.

The sisters now stood in a field of springlike beauty, with a ribbon of river running through it, silver and singing. Ygddrasil, the world tree, towered above them, a gigantic ash, white trunk smooth and stately, its branches open to touch the entire universe, all nine realms.

Aurora gazed out in wonder. Everything existed here, there and nowhere—all present, all eternal. She felt exhilaration and peace all at once.

Someone spoke her name. Aurora came back to herself and looked at Lena. “They’re waiting,” her older sister said, and the three sisters moved across the shining field.

Slightly beyond it, glowing like a jewel, there was a round building made from the purest moonstone, as befitted its name: the Hall of the Moon. Ahead, the doors of the hall swung slowly open, commanding entry.

The sisters moved through the great shining doors. Inside, the hall was liquid with mirrors, which glimmered with ever-changing reflections. Aurora’s heart beat faster as the cool radiance of the hall surrounded them.

As she followed her sisters she glanced around, glimpsing all the days of her existence in the silvery windows around her. She saw Luke there, as a child, as a teenager, as a college student, as a man, every episode of his life... And she saw herself, as a child, as a teenager, as a woman, always there, always watching him longingly.

She became aware of Val staring daggers at her, and Lena took her arm, gently steering her forward.

The three Eternals were seated on silver thrones in the center of the hall, around a giant silver loom, where every day they wove the Web of Fate.

Aurora felt fear and calm equally in their presence; they were beautiful and terrifying, as old and as powerful, as the tree Ygddrasil itself. Urd, Verdandi and Skuld: That Which Was , That Which Is and That Which Will Be. Urd, with her spindle to spin the threads of life; Verdandi, who wove the cloth on the loom; and Skuld, hovering silently with her scissors to cut the threads at the end of mortal life. Urd was all in white, promising endless possibility, Verdandi in red, reflecting the heat of life, and Skuld was all in black, signifying the end of life, and always veiled, so none could know her secrets.

Now Urd looked up from her spindle and glanced toward the younger Norns, raised a hand, summoning them. “Come, daughters.”

Aurora swallowed and followed her sisters forward across the mosaic floor. They stopped before the semicircle of thrones and bowed to the Eternals; Urd nodded acceptance of the homage and then spread her hands, a question and a reproof.

“Come and see,” she said, and passed a hand over the tapestry on the loom. The sisters moved forward slowly, and looked down at the shimmering, multicolored weave.

The fabric seemed alive, constantly changing. Aurora could see forests, cities, families, lovers—a carousel of images of the world, past, present and future. She was captivated.

And then Skuld raised a black-gloved hand and silently pointed.

There, in the middle of the tapestry, a golden thread was broken and twisted, a glaring flaw in the perfection of the weave.

Aurora stared down in confusion and dismay. It looked like an ugly rip in the fabric of life itself.

She looked up—and saw that all three of the Eternals were regarding her silently. With a jolt, Aurora realized what she was seeing.

“ I did that?” she whispered.

Verdandi sighed. “The web is closely woven. One man’s fate cannot simply stop without all others being affected.”

As they watched, another thread popped, creating another hole in the delicate tapestry.

Val shot Aurora a look of triumph, then stepped forward with a deference that Aurora knew to be absolutely false humility. “Your Highnesses, if I may speak...”

Urd motioned to her, and Val barreled forward. “At his birth, I claimed the mortal Luke Mars for Odin. He has been a warrior all his life, in every aspect of his life. He was to have died gloriously in battle—last night, by earth’s time. Now while Odin awaits his service in Valhalla, the mortal’s whole life has stopped, which is affecting the Weave of Life.”

The Eternals turned their eyes toward Aurora and she faltered under the power of that triple gaze. But she thought of Luke, of his passion and fire, and she lifted her head and said nothing.

Urd, the Norn of the Past, touched her fingers lightly to the tapestry in several places as she looked deeply into it.

“Child, you have overstepped your bounds with this mortal before,” she said.

Aurora dropped her eyes. “I only tried to help...when he was in trouble...”

“She has interfered over and over and over again,” Val argued indignantly.