Chapter 1

161 32 187
                                    

The paths of men are flawed, leading to chaos and ruin. The paths of the Gods are perfect, leading to perfect order. Through the Bonding, men conform with the Gods' will.

- The Canon


[Cyril]

I have no fate, no destiny, no chosen path. Those were the Seer's unspoken words.

Why have the Gods forsaken me?

"This cannot be. It is impossible." The Seer shook her head, clattering the colored beads woven into her stringy gray hair. "We shall make another attempt."

I knew it would not make a difference. Why would a third try produce any other result?

Low murmurs rose from the watching crowd that stood in a rough semi-circle outside of the Temple of Demeter, our patron goddess of agriculture. Carved limestone pillars holding up a triangular cornice framed the Seer on the steps above me. A Bonding always attracted interest in the village. This was a tangible action of the Gods, if only indirectly. Every man and woman of age was duty bound to appear before a Seer. Through connection to the Moirai, the givers of destiny, the Seer would bond a person to a life-path and purpose. All by the will of the Gods.

For reasons he would not divulge, my father had forbidden me the bonding. But suspicious glances and mumbled voices took their toll, tearing away at my thin excuses. I was my own man now, aside from the will of the Gods. Besides, I had hoped that the Seer would allow me to continue blacksmithing here with my father. We shared a profitable and useful trade that benefited the community. The Gods would surely have granted me that.

And perhaps I would be allowed to court the fair Gwendolyn. With flowing strawberry curls, soft ivory skin, and full ripe lips, she took my breath away by mere presence. But now, those piercing green eyes that held mine from the crowd, narrowed from adoration to suspicion.

The crowd hushed as the Seer again raised the Seeing Glass, turning the polished orb before a squinted eye and chanting in an unknown language. Her white gown fluttered in a rising breeze. For others the Glass glowed in the colors of the sunset, revealing to the Seer a destiny chosen by the Gods. But for me, nothing.

The Seer frowned and let out an audible breath. "Young Cyril, son of Pedar, you are not seen. The Moirai know not your name."

What could go wrong, I had thought. This.

Faint murmurs within the people grew in volume as they shuffled about, turning to one another. Scattered exclamations broke out, and the crowd boiled like a pot above the fire.

"What is he?" a voice yelled.

'Demon!' another exclaimed, raising a fist. "The Chaos has taken him!"

Still another shouted. "The Gods will seek retribution!"

The words scorched my heart. These were my neighbors, my friends, and my love. Had we not laughed together, sang and danced together? Had my father and I not forged their tools and repaired their plow shares? Did we not share in the bounty of the Lands?

The accusations blended into a roar. Even the Seer cast contempt with her eyes before stepping aside.

A stone flew my way. I dodged it, but another glanced from my forehead and yet another struck my shoulder. I staggered as my mind dazed, bringing my forearms up to my face for protection.

My eyes pleaded with Gwendolyn as she stood with hands on her hips, but she just huffed as a deep frown darkened a beautiful face. Lifting her long green skirt, she turned away, leaving me to the mob.

Destiny UnbondedWhere stories live. Discover now