Strings of Fate

Storms a' Brewing

Waves descended upon the miner. Slamming him further beneath the water. He struggled to breathe. Choking for every breath in the freezing water. Shock took hold of his system as his limbs refused to coordinate. Air was punched from his lungs. He couldn't breathe. The torrent of icy water rushed into his mouth, biting into his skin. Water enveloped him. It was so cold he couldn't move. Shock all over.

He sank.

The lightning ahead, the torrential waves, it all faded away as water clouded his ears. His mind was a haze, yet conscious. He floated down into this abyss. The dark, frigid ocean was a void. So deep, not even the lightning or thunder could reach him. It was a dark void above, and a dark void below. Dark void all around him. Cold, unfeeling nothingness.

The teal string, frayed and no longer connected, danced across the surface of the water. As if searching for him, to no avail. Getting swooped up into the storm itself as foggy water consumed the raging surface. The teal string stopped its fight, relinquishing itself to his fate. It stopped moving. And started floating away. Taking the last remaining hope with it.

In the dark, cold, salty water, the teal was a beacon. Up there on the torrential surface. It should be attached to him. He needed it back. He needed her back. But as he struggled, clawing his way to the surface, all his efforts were fruitless, as if there was lead attached to his legs.

Steven forced himself to relax, knowing it was pointless to fight anymore. The light of the teal string, her string, was dying away. Almost entirely out of sight, with no sign of coming back.

He was alone. Truly alone.

And so. Utterly. Hopeless.

Muffled silence pounded against his ears.

Something pulled at his hand. A gentle tug. A warm feeling, salvation from the cold. It tugged him further down into the abyss.

The cursed red string.

An entity, a figure, emerged from the darkness. Nearly blending with the cold void, those haunting eyes he could never escape. They were everywhere he looked, always watching, waiting to strike.

The figure reached out and gingerly took his hand. Connected with a string, a fated string. His worst enemy, and an even worse adversary on the other end. The string wrapped around both of their wrists as the figure gripped his hand strongly. The current pulled Steven down further into the abyss. He had no strength, nor will, to fight. Morbidly curious about where this haunting figure would lead.

He should have realized. His fate was sealed the moment the ship submitted to the waves. Why try to fight back?

Doomed was he.

Further and further. The surrounding water grew warmer. Bubbles appeared. A purple glow emanated from the murk below him. Calling him. Its hushed whispers and mournful cries lured him in. The figure led him to it.

A fissure in the ocean floor. Among the murk and mud, a wide chasm filled with the purple swirling vortex of a portal. Heat radiated from the portal. The cries grew louder, as did the whispers. Steven tried to struggle, but the figure held strong... but there was no figure. The string was pointed straight through the portal, dragging him down like the rope tied to an anchor.

On the other side of the portal was the hellish red landscape he despised. And the entity was no longer shadowed. But the demon himself stood on the other side, a hand on the portal. A pane of magical glass separating them. The string connecting both of their hands.

The demon pushed his hand forward, and the portal shattered, the vortex of purple particles bursting out, a torrential current sucking into the chasm. The portal was still there, but opaque. Debris on the floor was being sucked into the structure.