Chapter 8

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Trust in the will of the Gods, and not on the meager understandings of men.

     - The Canon


[Ophelia]

My feet now tread in the Forbidden Lands, something before I would never have considered, such was my obedience to the Gods. It was exhilarating, a new unbonded destiny, but also terrifying. A lifetime of indoctrination was not an easy thing to cast off. What if the tales of poison and monsters were true? But there were no signs of such. The plants and rocks seemed normal enough, the sky held the same blueness, birds still tweeted the same songs, and the wildflowers were every bit as colorful.

We descended through a scrubby forest, weaving around tumbled piles of boulders and steep-sided washes. As the sun rose high in the sky, we took off our furs. Kit bounced along, hopping from rock to rock and examining anything of interest along the way, apparently unconcerned about what lied ahead. I wish I had her enthusiasm. Dash was quite the opposite, as surly as ever, perhaps because of the bundles of furs we added to his load.

I took a few moments to study Cyril as we walked along. He has been kind to me, much more than I deserved. By rights, he should have despised me. But every dimpled grin chased away the darkness on my heart, like morning sunshine did the night. In moments of rambling thought, I imagined us together. But with him being of Chaos and me a Moirai, how could that ever come to be?

Cyril kept me warm last night. I should have pushed his arm off of me, but it felt so... good. A different kind of warmth caressed my heart like a gentle summer breeze, and I nearly melted, feeling safe, cared for. That night gave me the most contented sleep.

And earlier on that terrifying ridge, his embrace wove our souls together on a loom of our own making. For a moment, Chaos and Order bonded in harmony, not as the enemies that I was taught to believe, perhaps how it should be.

A gentle song, barely audible above the rustling leaves, pulled me from my thoughts. I cocked an ear. "Do you hear that?"

"Yes." Cyril stopped to listen. "It sounds like singing. How can that be?" He spoke to Kit in their silent sign language and she just shrugged.

The song grew louder as we went along, becoming a soaring aria accompanied by the wind, ethereal and pure, intoxicating, compelling us onward. Cyril walked at my side, his face expressionless as if in a trance. Unhearing, Kit wrinkled her forehead at our compulsion.

It promised eternal peace, rest for weary souls, joy in place of sorrow, but somehow, I knew the song was as false as the Gods' will. Despite a deep part of me shouting a warning, it became everything, driving us to its source.

We emerged from the scrubby trees to a rocky bluff. Ahead on a boulder at the cliff edge, perched a strange creature made of white alabaster. The singer had the body of a slender woman, long folded wings at her back, and legs like a bird. My heart raced and my gut twisted as I recognized this monster, one constructed by the Gods - a Siren. Despite naming the beast, my legs would still not obey my desperate commands to stop.

Kit tugged at her brother, then at me, imploring us with wide teary eyes to break free of the Siren spell, but it did no good. Dash joined the urging, braying behind us. In perhaps my last willful act, I pulled out the glass long-knife from my satchel and dropped it at Kit's feet.

The Siren put on a sinister smirk at our plight, eager for the kill. The song continued, its sweetness now sickening, and we marched involuntarily to the cliff edge. I wanted to tell Cyril I was sorry, and to thank him for opening my eyes to the truth and for showing me undeserved compassion, but my voice no more obeyed my commands than my feet. We came to the edge of a sheer drop and I turned my eyes down to the sun-bleached bones of previous victims scattered among the jagged rocks far below.

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