Underland(64)

Her cheery complexion turned dark with anger. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, you mortal fool!” She jumped up and her hand came forward to point in Kira’s direction, but nothing happened. No power, flash of light, or spark.

Kira was right. She was powerless. It seemed that she had some sort of intuition of who or what she was supposed to be, but she couldn’t remember.

“Why am I here?” Kira asked the forgotten goddess.

“It seems that someone thinks you are special. You’ve caught their attention, so you are bidden to be here for the time being.”

“I don’t believe in mythical gods,” Kira said firmly.

“Careful what you say aloud here. That can be a death sentence.”

“Death doesn’t scare me,” Kira lied.

“You’d be foolish to not fear Death, for I’ve met him. He is quite frightening.” The woman beckoned with her head toward the door. “Come, I have something to show you.”

A door appeared out of the rock, and Kira followed the nameless goddess into the hallway. They walked down a spiral staircase, into another hall, and through a set of golden doors. This room looked like a museum. Large white columns, tables with vases and cups, tapestries hung on the wall. Three women sat in the center weaving on a giant loom.

The woman led her over and had Kira take a look at their work.

There was something wrong with the tapestry they were weaving. Even though the three women were using spools of brightly colored thread, half of the tapestry had turned black.

“This is what our world has been reduced to,” the nameless goddess said. “Once, long ago, the tapestry was whole and not divided between dark and light. Now, our world has been split asunder. The tapestry only shows us the future of our realm, the Underland. The Fates cannot control what happens on your world any more than the gods below can. But these women, the Fates, they can see it. They weave it, but it is not for our eyes. The darkness is spreading and we Underlanders are dying. And there is nothing we can do to stop it.”

“There must be something,” Kira said.

“Look, Kira Lier, and tell me what you see.”

Kira walked over to the loom. She stared at the blackened half of the tapestry, trying to see what had once been displayed. Nothing was there but black thread. Over and over, the woman pushed the shuttle with gold wool through the loom and it turned slowly black.

Whatever picture she was weaving would disappear.

Kira leaned closer to the woman nearest the black part of the loom. She stared, concentrated. Suddenly, the darkness parted, and Kira could see color underneath.

It looked like an alley—one in the pearl district that she was familiar with. She leaned a little closer and saw a box next to a dumpster, a girl that looked like her. It was her world.

Not just her world, but her.

The Fate whose weaving turned black, her face hidden by a shawl, picked up a pair of scissors and cut off a loose piece of thread. She started to hum off-key, and Kira recognized the tune. The woman rocked and sang under her breath, “Kira Lier brings death wherever she goes.”

“It can’t be,” Kira breathed out in fear. But one look at the ringed fingers, thick as sausages said it must be. Kira’s hand shook as she reached up to touch the woman’s arm. The woman turned her head, and Kira saw her face beneath the head shawl. She jumped.

Madame Fortuna sat before her. Her eyes white as death and unseeing, she continued to push the shuttle through the loom, cut the cord, and sing softly to herself.

“So it’s true then,” the nameless goddess said softly. “You can see the dark side of the tapestry?” Her hands brushed the darkened, finished section, and she looked up at Kira hopefully. “What about her? You’ve seen her before…in your world maybe?” She pointed to Madame Fortuna.

“Yeah.” Kira felt her patience suddenly departing. “She’s just a kooky old fortune teller. She spoke my name and death, lots of death.”

“No, this is Atropos, one of the Fates. She must have been trying to send you a message in your world.”

“I wish I could have heeded it too, and never showed up here.”

The goddess pursed her lips and spun her hair around her finger. “I think you must go. You can’t stay here. Hermes and Ares must think you’re their champion.”

“I don’t even understand who I am. I’m nobody.”

“No, the reason Hermes brought the games back was because long ago, a great and terrible killer was foretold, one who would save us from the darkness. As you can see, the blackness of the loom is slowly spreading like a disease.”

“The games were their way of searching for that person—to find that gruesome champion, the killer the prophecy foretold.”

“I think they would have found them after thousands of years,” Kira said a little frustrated.

“No, all of the champions have failed the final test. The Underlords have become desperate as more of the races here are losing power. We’re forgetting ourselves. They’ve been sending criminals to the games for years, then the slaves, and anyone that’s in debt. They’ve tried to raise the stakes and glorified the competitors. But no one has completed the final game. I think the Fates got it wrong. They haven’t been searching for a killer. They’ve been searching for you…Kira Lier.”