The Threads of Fate

Sunlight was now filtering through the towering trees in Eclipsia Forest and casting long shadows across the dense undergrowth. The air was crisp, still, but for the sounds of the odd rustle of leaves and distant call of a bird. This was a very quiet day-almost too quiet. Ilyana stood at the edge of the forest, soft earth rising to meet the bottom of her boots as she gazed deep into the depths of the woods. Her mind swirled with the night's encounter. An encounter that had turned already tumultuous life upside down.

Sylas. The Keeper of Shadows. His presence clung to her all through the night, those obscure words curling like tendrils of smoke within her mind. "Bound to the darkness." She could not cast away the burden of those words. Was that so? Were she tied up with forces of shadow, looming over everything within her life? And there in that room, a moment when the pounding of her heart felt more painful than necessary, beating agonizingly within her ribcage as she recalled how Sylas looked at her-as if he'd seen something within her she still had yet to learn.

She always knew, deep down, it wasn't going to be an easy life, not the same for her, after all. Not normal, even. But hearing it from him-that very embodiment of darkness-made it feel all the more real than ever. His warning had been pretty apparent, almost as if he were preparing her for something inevitable. But what could she do about it? What was she supposed to do when the very nature of her existence felt like a lie, a construct bound to forces far beyond her comprehension?

Ilyana shook her head to try to clear the fog that befogged her thoughts. She had to keep her wits about her. She could not let fear overcome her, not now. She had no idea what lay ahead; she only knew she had to keep moving. She couldn't stand still anymore.

She sucked deep in the forest and started trudging through on that familiar old track that ran numerous times under her feet. Only, today seemed to be so different. As usual, in front of her, there were the myriad trodden paths that human eyes passed with ease, darkness of dawn covering every particular. But she would notice every detail to turn the world over to so much twisting just to make an exit out of somewhere. She was heavy as if with some undertow coming from beneath. Each step pulls her toward an uncertain fate.

The thoughts stopped short of saying anything when she heard unmistakable footfall came from behind, the rhythmic crunch of the leaves beneath the boots sounding very deliberate. When she spun round, Ilyana saw Zarvian step out from between the shadows of the trees. His stature made her heartbeat pause. He stood there, commanding, as always, with his posture straight and unwavering as he walked towards her. It was strange to look at him like this here, in the middle of the forest, where he was so far from being locked up in his mansion.

"You are thinking," Zarvian said softly, but a strand of tension translated itself into the sound of his voice. Something was different in his tone today, an edge to his words that was making Ilyana's heart pound.

Ilyana did not answer. Her mind was a jumble for her to even attempt to speak. Too much had come out of talking to Sylas. The last days had all become a blur ,a rush of new revelations, fears, and doubts. She always knew there was something dark in her, some force within, connected to others she could never understand in full. Sylas' visit only made everything crystal clear. His words had shadowed everything, and now she could not find sense in anything.

"Zarvian," she said finally, her voice even, still unsure. "Last night, I spoke to someone. His name is Sylas. He says he knows me, but. I do not know how. He says I'm 'bound to the darkness.'"

Zarvian didn't change color, but for a moment there was a flash in his eyes, something that was unreadable and went between them. He didn't speak for a long minute, his eyes scanning the trees as if waiting for something-and perhaps somebody-to emerge. Then, very low and even, he did speak.

"I knew he'd come," Zarvian muttered to himself, "I just didn't expect it to be so soon".

Ilyana blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing. "You knew him?"

His eyes clashed with hers, inhuman and unyielding. A hardness crossed his face now, as if setting his face toward some trial he'd know he could not survive. "Not personally. But Sylas is a name that has haunted the histories of many realms, including ours. He's not someone you want to cross paths with, Ilyana. His purpose is shrouded in mystery, but it's always tied to the darkest of forces."

Ilyana's chest was pounding and a chill began to form in it. "What do you mean by that?"

Zarvian's lips cut into a sharp line as he advanced closer. The air thickened with the weight of silence, charged by silent truths. "Sylas is no common man. He is a Keeper, an elder beast bound to the shadows of the realms within. He brings as a messenger of change usually to destroy something grand. His coming brings talk of a greater moment-one to unravel this world or give it a new face."

Ilyana couldn't fathom the weight of the words uttered. A Keeper. She had heard of such beings from legends: ancient, outside-of-this-world entities that manipulated forces far beyond the mortal mind. But to hear that now, someone was brought into her life. It felt like the most cynical twist of fate. "But what does he want with me? Why did he seek me out?"

Zarvian's gaze went dark; his voice little more than a whisper as he replied. "I don't know yet but suspect you may be tied up in something bigger than you see. Sylas wouldn't have come to see you unless he knew you are already part of the coming change. He's not one who makes moves unprepared, or you." Pausing, looking at her intensely for a prolonged period of time. "You are as important to whatever game he's playing now."

The air between them was thick with tension, and, in that instant, Ilyana's heart pounded in her chest. The threads of destiny Sylas mentioned started weaving into a net around her, gradually tightening their grip, inexorably drawing her toward the darkness and the danger, something she could no longer avoid.

There came a faint stirring through the leaves, a whispered tone on the breath of wind-but it was no sound of wind: the voice is too sharp. Too clear and distinct.

"You will find your way, dear Lady Nightrose. The shadow waits for its own."

Ilyana's blood ran cold as the voice trailed away into silence. Sylas had listened, waited for perhaps her one step forward. Whatever it was he sought, whatever the reason, whatever purpose, all this was too late now.

"Time to get ready," Zarvian's voice interrupted the silence and cut through into their minds in all its firiness and determinacy. "It is dark; we'll do our job."

Ilyana nodded, the weight of his words settling upon her shoulders. She could not turn back now. Ahead lay a darkness she had not yet traversed; there was a certain amount of danger unknown, as well as shadowy forces at play. Yet she could not, would not turn away. She had to walk it, no matter where it led. The threads of fate were pulling her along; she could feel them tightening their grip upon her.

Into one last look at Zarvian, she stepped into darkness, prepared to face whatever stood before her. She would not run from darkness. Not that which came in the dark night. Whatever the cost.