Read an Excerpt:
Time gripped the spear’s shaft in her chest until her hand bled. A thousand years of being left pinned to the roots of the Mother Tree by Fate gnawed at her.
Groaning, she threw her head back, her long white hair dingy from the dirt and overgrowth. It stuck to the bark and pulled, causing stinging to roll through her skull.
Her chest heaved in frustration as she let out a primal scream before releasing the blood-red metal of the weapon. The tips pierced between her navel and breasts. She drew up the length of the captured arm with her free hand, tracing the tattoos with her blood. The red contrasted magnificently with the pale blue of her skin.
Throughout the twisted root cave, slivers of her power, thin golden threads, glittered across everything, waiting to catch prey in its nets.
Light at the end of the tunnel flickered, causing Time’s lips to curl into a devilish smile. Come to me. I could use the entertainment.
A rush of wind filled the hollow space, feathers scattering toward her in a kaleidoscope of black and white.
Time chuckled, low and deep. It’s her.
Her ex-lover stepped into the curtained sunlight and took slow, purposeful steps forward. Fate held her head high. Long black and white hair hung over her shoulders; the two colors parted directly down the middle. Time’s lip quivered as Fate ran her hand through her hair. Irresistible as ever. Her still gorgeous wings—one white, one black—spread behind her shoulders. Fate paused in the cavern and dismissed her wings with a flick of her wrist. Feathers rained down, disappearing into dust.
Time moved, her joints popping and her face twisting into a sinister grin. “Fate, my love, you’ve finally come,” she paused as a cloaked man peered into the cave, “to visit.”
So, she brought the rabble. How quaint.
Fate squared her shoulders. “I came to end this.”
“Is that so?” Time went slack; resting her free hand on the shaft of the Spear of Souls, tracing the metal with her gaze, she recalled the betrayal. How Fate and the Keepers cornered her, impaled her to the Mother Tree, and how the look of fear in the Keeper of Stars’ eyes when she sought her revenge before succumbing to the weapon and shattering him into twelve still gave her satisfaction. Like Mother Urth and Father Sky, he would never walk Gaea again. Time’s neck cracked as she focused on the man huddled at the entrance. The threads stretching through the darkness shifted as he entered. Time’s lips parted as she slid her tongue behind her teeth. “Then why did you bring him?”
The Prophet.
He was the key to her chains, as foretold by the Eternal Clock. The Prophet flinched at her low chuckle.
“Stay back,” Fate snapped before he could push past. “Whatever you do, don’t touch her.”
“Oh, please?” Time moaned, running her hand over her throat. “It has been so long.”
“Silence.” Fate placed her hand on the spear’s shaft, remaining out of Time’s reach. Thin wisps of charcoal smoke rolled over Fate’s shoulder, cascading down to the weapon, the ends darkening as death’s power inched toward Time. Resting her head on the bark, Time stared at the stray white hairs caressing her breasts. Slow, agonizing death was in her future.
The flash of blues and reds of the Prophet’s cloak caught her gaze as he paced uneasily behind Fate, his hand worrying at his chin.
Letting her head roll to the side, Time said, “I felt it, you know. When your daughter was born.”
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