Red String {EDITING}

Chapter Thirteen | Strings and Snakes

"But... you're a god..." Lyra mumbled, sitting back on her haunches, far too nervous to bring her eyes above the thick black markings marring his arms.

"There are flaws to be found in everything, Lyra dearest," he said. "Now, come. Take a seat next to me. There are topics which must be discussed if you wish to understand who and that which you truly are."

Her legs felt like lumps of lead, her knees shaking as she pushed herself to her feet, ensuring her dressing gown was wrapped tightly around herself before she dragged her lumbering body to stand next to the powerful being which had appeared before her. She didn't understand – didn't feel worthy enough to stand there, nor sit as Fate himself was ordering her to do. She wasn't really anybody particularly important. There was no place for her to simply sit beside one of the gods her kind worshiped.

"Unlike the majority of your kind"—he turned to her then, chuckling mirthfully—"I do not bite. Come now. Sit. No harm will befall you here." He smiled at her then, and Lyra could do little more than shakily sit down. Her feet dangled, not touching the water's surface beneath, and she stared at it determinedly, startling ever so slightly when she saw the strange reflection of the god in the waters below. "Tell me, wolf child, do you know much lore of my kind?" he asked, and Lyra pulled her attention from the image of the being whose hair and eyes glowed gold in the waters, turning her eyes instead on the non-glowing version sitting beside her on the little jetty.

She shook her head vigorously, swallowing hard when Fate himself gave her a hard look. "No," she said, realising he wanted verbal answers. "I don't."

He hummed then, contented with her response. "Shall I tell you of the Before I wonder?" he mused, and Lyra was intimately aware he was talking only to himself then. He didn't require an answer from her. "He was a jealous god... greedy... and he loved the Moon far too much. He was selfish, and he tried to keep her all too himself... but greed is a terrible sin, and he paid the price... though not before he left his mar upon this world."

Lyra felt her brow furrow. "What?" she mumbled, nose crinkling as she tried to piece things together.

His hand reached out then, a chuckle on his lips as he tucked some of her messy red hair behind her ear. "I forget your kind is still so very young... You know little of the Days of Before." He patted her head then like the utter child she was in comparison to him. "Tales of the ancestors should never be forgotten. Though none who lived through those days still remember them so."

Her confusion only grew. Truly, Lyra had no idea what he was talking about. "I don't understand," she said, staring at him then, barely refraining from shuddering as those pink eyes bored into her so.

"Of course you do not," Fate murmured, shaking his head as his fingers brushed through her hair oh so gently. "Even if you are one of the crowning jewels wrapped up in his thread... his colour... Red eyes are a sign of the favour of the Moon Goddess, did you know that?"

Lyra blinked, dumbfounded.

"He delights in having you wrapped in his colours, beloved of his beloved," he continued, grasping at her chin then, finger running over her soft lips. "Know this, Child of the Moon, he has you dyed in his colour, and he will come for you – for you hold one of the keys to his prison."

"What... are you talking about...?" Lyra knew she possessed no key. Not to anyone's prison. She was fairly sure she would have found it by then. Or Omega Taurus would have stolen it from her.

"But," Fate continued, as though her interruption had never occurred, "know this. There are those amongst my kind who will do anything to prevent his revival." He leant in close then, lips perilously close to her ear. "Even if it means dragging you down into the Domain of the Devil God and imprisoning you there in Hell for all eternity." His hands grasped at her head, even as she tried to pull away, warm breath brushing against the skin of her ear. "Advice for you, little thing wrapped in string. If you are ever in doubt, Child of the Moon, then ride. Even if it signals the beginning. He will love you dearly until the end of time itself, and that is a protection none can break."

Lightning stuck the lake, the rumble of thunder following, and Lyra blinked for what had to be the thousandth time that evening. Fate was gone. Not even a whisper or a mark where he had been sat mere seconds before. It didn't seem real. "What?" she echoed her earlier words, feeling horrendously stupid as no answers came to mind.

She was nobody special. Not really. So The Weaver couldn't have paid her a visit. She had never heard of such a thing happening. She wasn't an alpha like her mate. She wasn't as strong as him. Lyra was just plain Lyra. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Lyra?"

Blinking once more, she turned, spying Rylan standing there. He wore a dressing gown similar to her own, though admittedly his fit much better than hers. "I'm... fine," she said, head spinning slightly as she thought of the day's excitement. Thunder rumbled overhead, and Lyra glanced upwards at the dark grey skies. "Just enjoying the weather..."

Pale blue eyes widened then. "Oh," he murmured, just as light streaked through the storm clouds above. "Of course..."

"We should head back now, shouldn't we?" she spoke, her voice barely beyond a low murmur. She felt so... small. Unworthy. Hopeless. Lyra shivered then, wrapping her arms around herself, staring up through her lashes as Rylan came over to her then. There was a faint smile upon his lips, one which she found herself mirroring hesitantly.

"It would be safer inside, yes," he said, still smiling down at her even as he reached for her hand, weaving his fingers between her own. "We can go running on the grounds another time – perhaps when it's a bit less stormy."

"That sounds... nice," she mumbled, thinking back on how wonderful it was to have the wind ruffling through her fur as she walked back with her mate, hand in hand. How wonderful it was to lose herself in the joy of running amok in that furry form of hers. "I think I'd like that." After all, there had never been any real opportunities for her to shift for the pure fun of it. It had always been job after job. Death after death.

Grass rustled as she stepped into the forest, and Lyra found herself relaxing despite the slight discomfort she felt as she left the little dock far behind.

Pain – sharp and piercing – throbbed from her leg then. A whimper escaped her throat then, the world fading into her peripheral as she spotted the two fangs buried deep in her skin. The rumble of thunder had concealed any warning sounds the snake might have made. She watched, dazed, as those razor sharp fangs tore free of her leg, leaving two puffy, inflamed wounds in her skin. Blood trickled from the wounds, leaking down her leg in small tributaries, and Lyra could only stare numbly, even as Rylan whispered in her ear to stay calm.

Lyra stared at the grass where the snake had disappeared, barely paying attention as she was bundled up in her mate's arms. Her brow furrowed, and Lyra could only squint at the faint flicker of the black and red scaled body which vanished into the undergrowth once more. It shouldn't have been dangerous in the forest. Not if the alphas could run amok inside its boundaries... and if that didn't beg the question, Lyra didn't know what would. Where had the snake even come from?