Page 17 of Invoking Ruin

And that small tidbit from Lethe begging me to do the right thing.

I close my ears against her screams echoing through my memory.

The sisters are still talking back and forth about all my shortcomings. I roll my eyes, which they ignore. I let them exhaust their criticisms before I cut in, “Nyx sent me. She said you would have some idea of what I’m meant to do next.”

“What precisely is it you’re wanting to do, niece? Keep hiding under a rock?”

“If hiding under a rock is what it takes to get what I want, yes.” I’m not a prideful goddess. At least, I don’t think I am. I’ll do whatever I need to achieve my ends. Let the others fight for grand causes or let personal slights get in the way of their endgames. I’ll happily run away from them and toward better things before they remember to look for me again.

“You truly think that’s your fate?” Lachesis gives me a stern look as she hands a measured thread to Atropos. So many threads. So many lives set out in the universe, waiting for their end to be cut and sorted.

I’d be lying if I said the thought of ceasing to exist didn’t rattle me. Once, it wouldn’t have, but we’ve all tasted mortality now. None of us is immune.

Not that I’ll let them see my trepidation. “Since when do you lot care what my so-called fate is meant to be.”

Clotho cackles, and my shoulders tense. “So arrogant! None of you are above our influence, except Chaos, who turns his head away from existence. All the rest must bow to us.”

They’re not technically wrong. I suspect that’s the sole reason they’re not in Tartarus along with my grandmother.

No one can really challenge them. No one dares.

“I’ll tell you your fate, Ruin,” Atropos cuts the thread, and the silence that follows is chillier than the depths of Tartarus. "You will bring the calamity you have visited upon others down on your own head. Take heed. Even a god’s thread may be cut.”

Her threat settles deep in my bones. The Moirai don’t toss threats about without reason. I wince at the sudden awareness of time, ticking, slipping through my fingers. It’s as though a clock has buried itself in my chest, counting down.

I have to get out of here.

I need Dionysus, before it’s too late.

“My fate isn’t why I’m here.” My voice comes out shakier than I intend, but I don’t try to correct it. They know they’ve gotten to me. I’m in too deep to try and pretend otherwise. “Nyx promised you would know what I am meant to do. Waiting for my own ruin to catch up with me sounds dreadfully dull.”

“Scoff all you like, missy, but you won’t outrun your fate,” Clotho taunts. “Now, go. If you want to keep the gods’ eyes off of you, simply dole out your prizes. Drop them in the places where they were once worshiped. You will have to give them up to keep the others appeased either way. If they are hunting treasure, they will leave you well enough alone.”

Treasures. I have plenty of those. The chest in my chariot is only a small portion of my collection, though I don’t have time to go retrieve the rest now.

They’ve given me a brilliant plan. I can scatter my hoard across the world, precious, shining, jewels of the gods. Even the lowliest of those treasures would surely be disastrous to any mortals who came across them. The gods will willingly spend centuries hunting them down again to prevent a disaster.

It will keep them busy, and while it isn’t a permanent solution, it’s a great deal better than anything I’ve thought of. The gods will probably forget I’d even stolen anything, at the end of such a wild goose chase.

Most gods only pretend to have long memories. In truth, almost all of us prefer to forget. Eternity is a long time, only made longer still with burdens of the past.

“Thank you.” I don’t shirk gratitude where the Moirai are concerned.

“Don’t thank us,” Atropos tells me with a sniff. Already, she has a fresh thread from Lachesis ready for cutting. “Be gone. We are busy, and you slow down our work.”

It’s a dismissal, but one I’m more than happy to take. The thought of staying even a minute longer makes me want to scream.

With a flap of the shoes tied to my feet, I lift up into the air once more, leaving Nyx’s moldering Underworld villa and the Moirai behind.

So I’m supposed to kick off a treasure hunt fit for the gods. Fine. I can manage a spectacle. Surely they’ve been missing their toys, so much so they’ll happily scour the earth for them like pigs hunting for truffles.

If they do it long enough, they might forget their own brother.

Chapter five

Atê

When I finally break free of the Underworld and emerge back onto Gaia, I’m not entirely sure how long it’s been. Time passes differently in the nether realms. It slips and slides. Sometimes, when I’m really unlucky, it even runs backwards.

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