TORIN YOUTH – CHAPTER 06: THE WEAVER OF FATE

One day after the battle near the ruins of Old Torin City—

The sky is clear, and the sun shines brightly after yesterday’s rain.

Three Torinian harpies scan the forest below them, looking for the teams of Legionnaire Specialis candidates. Each harpy is assigned to search for a different team.

One of the harpies finds the campsite of Team Two, where it is clear they made their last stand.

Another harpy spots Team One walking below. She can tell by the sight of their injuries and damaged armor that they’ve been in battle. Nevertheless, they look capable of returning home safely.

The third harpy finds signs of a battle that took place near the ruins of Old Torin, but there is no sign of the team members.

The harpies later meet in the air to share their findings.

“I spotted Team One,” one harpy says. “They were headed away from the abandoned mine in the Crystal-light Caverns.”

“No sight of Team Two,” another harpy says. “Looks like the poor bastards got ambushed, judging by their campsite.”

“Same for Team Three,” the third harpy says. “Which means only one team survived this time. Let’s report back to Aello.”

The giant harpies fly back to the city of Torin to deliver the update.

Meanwhile, in Arimas Piinu—

Atreus gathers vegetables in the field with the Laikos from the village.

He carries a basket toward a tent where an older Laiko woman waits.

“Right here?” he asks her.

“Yes, that’ll do,” she answers.

As Atreus is setting the basket down, Sophean meets him, wagging his tail slowly behind him.

“Son of the Will, you are our guest. As such, you should be resting, not working all day,” the Laiko man says.

Atreus laughs awkwardly. “Yeah… about that. I’m a guest here, and I don’t want to be a burden,” he says. “I need to carry my own weight.”

Sophean nods. “It doesn’t hurt that it helps you avoid spending time with your mother. Am I right?”

Atreus looks away, unable to lie to the Laiko man.

“I’m sorry,” he says as he resumes walking.

“Before you go, son of the Will,” Sophean says, stopping him before he can wander away. “There’s someone who could use your help.”

He gestures with a hand for Atreus to look toward a nearby tent. Atreus turns and sees a Laiko woman carrying an infant in a cloth pouch wrapped around her torso as she reaches for a pole with empty buckets hanging from each end.

Atreus pivots and hurries over to her, offering to help.

“Do you need water? I’ll go fetch it for you.”

The woman smiles and allows him to take the water buckets from her.

“Oh, how kind of you,” she says, placing her hands over her child and patting him softly.

Atreus nods and returns the smile before starting toward the lake with the pole balanced across his shoulders.

As he nears the lake, he sees Cadmeia kneeling there. He slows his steps as the suspicion that Sophean already knew she was at the shore creeps into his mind.

He sighs, telling himself, “Come on, Atreus. Just get it over with.”

Pushing himself forward, he approaches the lakeshore and the fox giantess.

Cadmeia stares into the water, her long hair draped over her right shoulder, hiding her face from him.

Atreus stops to roll up the legs of his trousers before stepping into the shallows on her right.

He looks down and sees his reflection in the rippling water, partially obscured by the shadow of the giantess nearby.

Cadmeia notices her own reflection distorted by the waves Atreus creates as he enters the lake.

“I don’t blame you for avoiding me,” she says softly, aware of his presence. “I know that it’s hard to look at me… like this.”

The boy exhales and turns his head slightly to peek at the scarlet-haired giantess, who weeps silently. He listens to her quiet, shaky voice.

“Even after twelve years in this body, I still see my reflection and ask, ‘Who is that staring back at me?’” she confesses.

Atreus lowers his gaze again to see his own reflection in the water as Cadmeia shares her heart.

“This voice—it’s not the one that sang to you as a child… to comfort you and assure you that everything was going to be okay. I should have stayed when I had that voice. I should have been there for my son. Instead, I left… and ruined both of our lives.”

A silence fills the air. The weight of the words spoken settles on Atreus’s heart.

The fox giantess speaks again, uttering words that the boy never thought he would hear from his mother.

“I’m sorry, Atreus.”

The apology isn’t in the voice that he recognizes when remembering her, and his own mind wants to disregard it, yet his heart tells him differently.

Tears slip from his eyes, sending more ripples across the surface of the water.

The giantess sighs deeply, composing herself, and turns her head to look at him.

“It’s okay to tell me what a sad excuse for a mother I am,” she says. “You don’t have to hold back. I deserve it. Every bit.”

Atreus remains silent and begins filling the buckets by lowering them into the clear water. Afterward, he stands and responds with warmth in his voice.

“You only did what you believed was best for everyone on this island,” he says, offering her a small smile. “Now, come, Mother—let’s leave yesterday behind us and make the best of a new day.”

Having refused to condemn her, he turns away and heads back to the village.

Cadmeia watches, knowing that the boy has suffered so much because of her but won’t say it. She reaches out toward him but stops herself, noticing the red fur covering her forearm and hand, with claws at the ends of her fingertips.

The fox giantess pulls her hand back and places it against her chest, reminded of why she can’t forgive herself even if Atreus seems to have forgiven her.

After walking back up the hill to the village, Atreus carries the water back to the Laiko woman and her child.

“Is there anything else?” he asks her.

“No, you’ve done plenty,” she answers as she takes a bucket inside her tent.

Atreus continues on, walking through the village and quietly observing.

He notices a Laiko man carrying firewood toward his tent, with several villagers nearby.

As he draws closer, he notices the expressions of the bystanders and reads their lips. Not everyone is welcoming of “bird people” here. He approaches the man despite the wary looks from some villagers.

“Do you need a hand?” he asks.

“No, my work is finished,” the Laiko man replies. “But thank you for the offer. It just goes to show that not all Torinians are bad people.”

Nearby, Atreus notices a Laiko woman with long white hair holding a drum and offers her a gentle, hopeful smile. She wears a tube top and a knee-length skirt decorated with traditional Laiko symbols. Jewelry and other accessories adorn her neck and wrists, telling Atreus that the woman is a performer, possibly in religious ceremonies or for entertainment.

She returns his smile hesitantly, her pointed ears twitching with caution.

“Would you play something for me?” Atreus asks her.

Her eyes flick to her friends beside her for reassurance. They shrug, smirking and wearing attire similar to hers.

The Laiko woman nods, understanding, and then turns back to the Torinian boy.

She sweeps her long white hair behind her shoulders and begins to pat the drum, its strap resting against her body. She moves with the rhythm, performing a traditional dance.

Atreus listens, nodding along.

“You sound amazing,” he says warmly.

He begins to hum, adding his voice to the rhythm. The sound calms the woman, and her ears gradually relax as they open to his song.

Amusement slowly replaces caution on the faces of the woman and her friends.

“Do you want to make more music together?” she asks, suddenly eager. “I want you to sing for me.”

Atreus considers the offer for a brief moment but sees no reason to refuse.

“Sure,” he says.

Smiling, the woman takes him by the hand.

“Come,” she says. “There’s a song in my heart.”

Further west in the northern region of Crystal Island—

A chateau sits atop a hill overlooking the ruins of Old Torin. It is no ordinary home, as it is a place of almost inconceivable size for a human being.

Within one of its expansive rooms, Rhea stands alone before a gigantic empty wine bottle. The bottle is fractured and could easily shatter into several pieces if it were tipped over. She stares at her reflection in its surface.

She stands without her armor, wearing only her damaged tunic. Her head is wrapped in bloodied bandages covering her left eye socket. Her left arm rests in a sling. Her torso and left thigh are also bandaged.

“Humans are so weak,” she says, lamenting her condition.

“Rhea,” a young man calls from the doorway. “Khariklo wants to see you.”

The girl behaves as though she heard nothing Leon said.

Leon slowly turns away, lowering his head in quiet sadness.

In another room, the giant drider shows Bia more of her ancient relics. Though the space appears to be meant for storage, it is carefully organized, almost like a gallery.

Bia walks along a shelf where Khariklo keeps miscellaneous items. She peers at a very old letter signed “The Drider Queen.”

“This paper looks ancient… and weird,” she says. “Is it made from silk or somethin’?”

The almost 30-meter—or 95-foot—tall drider Khariklo nods, approaching the shelf while cradling a motorcycle in her hands.

“Have you ever seen one of these?” she asks the tiny girl perched on the shelf with sweetness in her voice.

“Nope. What’s that thing?” Bia asks, wide-eyed.

“Humans ride on these to travel long distances in the lands beyond the great sea,” Khariklo explains. She places two fingers over the motorcycle to mimic a human riding it. “I have no fuel to power it, unfortunately.”

“Oh, it’s a machine for traveling!” Bia guesses loudly. “We don’t need those to get around. We’ve got hippogriffs back home. And harpies.”

Khariklo laughs, gracefully lifting a hand to cover her mouth.

“I love how quaint you Torinians are,” she says. “Their technological advancements have made surviving humans beyond the sea very dangerous.”

As the drider carefully returns the motorcycle to its place, Bia looks around at the immense room and whistles.

“I still can’t believe how big this house is.”

She then notices a painting hanging on the wall, depicting Khariklo wearing an elegant dress.

“Wow, did you paint that?” Bia asks.

Khariklo gathers Bia into the palms of her hands.

“No. My husband, Cheiron, painted it as a gift,” she says as she carries the girl toward the table in the center of the room. “Who says minotaurs can’t be sweet?”

Leon stands in the doorway, grief etched across his face.

“She still won’t talk to me,” he says.

Khariklo approaches him, speaking gently with compassion in her tone.

“There, there, dear boy.”

She reaches down and lifts him into her hands.

“Your cousin is very stubborn indeed. You mustn’t be too hard on yourself for what happened.”

The drider carries Leon to the table and sets him down beside Bia, who immediately wraps him in a hug.

“She needs time, that’s all,” Bia says, trying to comfort him.

“No,” Leon replies. “You don’t know Rhea like I do. She will never forgive me. Once she develops a grudge, that’s it.”

“The girl is in severe physical pain and refuses to take any remedies for it,” Khariklo says softly. “Yet the pain that she endures inside is even greater. There are only two possible cures for her suffering, I’m afraid.”

“What are they?” Leon asks.

Before the drider can explain her cryptic statement, Rhea appears in the doorway, drawing everyone’s attention.

“What a pleasure to have you finally join us, Rhea,” Khariklo says cheerfully. “How did you enjoy sleeping on the pillows I sewed?”

Rhea remains silent, her head lowered even further than before.

“I loved it,” Bia speaks up. “I haven’t slept on anything so soft and comfy in my whole life.”

“Yes, they’re really nice pillows,” Leon adds. “Much better than our beds back home.”

“I’m so glad you appreciate my handiwork, sweeties!” Khariklo says. “If you’d like, I can give you one of my extra rooms. Then you could come and stay more often. There’s so much I want to show you.”

“That would be amazing,” Bia says.

“Wonderful,” the drider coos. “I’ll get started on your rooms after you leave.”

“You still haven’t told us why you brought us here,” Rhea interrupts impatiently, remaining in the massive doorway.

“You’re welcome for the shelter I provided, little one,” the drider replies, gleefully overlooking the girl’s lack of gratitude.

“I likely saved your life. I know it hurts you to admit that,” she continues, smiling knowingly.

“Don’t pretend that you know me,” Rhea snaps.

“My dear, I’ve been around for a very long time. I’ve seen empires rise and fall in the lands beyond the great sea. I have spun my webs for queens and gods. I have met many souls like yourself.”

Khariklo extends a finger toward Leon, gently lifting his chin, knowing how heavily his guilt weighs on him.

“You believe that by purging anything that makes you feel vulnerable, you will become stronger,” she says to Rhea. “But it is by embracing those vulnerabilities that one truly becomes strong.”

Bia gasps as realization rushes through her.

“Oh gods—that’s it! I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!”

“Hm? See what?” Khariklo asks.

“Rhea has a crush on Atreus,” the wild-haired girl proclaims.

Rhea stiffens, jolted by the outburst.

“YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH, BIA!” she screams.

“Oh my,” Khariklo says, laughing awkwardly. “Ladies, let’s keep things civil, please.”

Rhea continues, seething, “I… I c-could never love that pathetic loser! The day I no longer have to suffer his existence will be the happiest day of my life!”

A sharp wave of agony surges through her body.

“NGH!” she groans, clutching her bandaged eye socket.

Khariklo skitters toward the doorway on her many spider legs, concern overtaking her expression.

“Please accept a remedy for your pain, little one,” the drider insists.

“Wait!” Bia interrupts, narrowing her eyes at Rhea. “What does she mean by ‘his existence’?”

Leon attempts to steer the conversation in another direction.

“Khariklo, how did you find us?” he asks.

“The mother of your companion asked me to look after you,” she answers, smiling sweetly at the boy.

Leon ponders the meaning of her words.

“Atreus’s mother,” he says, still forming his thoughts. “Cadmeia? The traitor? But she died, didn’t she?”

“Yes, she did… and yet she lives,” the drider responds. “…as the Scarlet Vixen.”

Rhea gasps, remembering the moment she looked into the Vixen’s eyes.

“That explains the desperation I saw in her eyes,” she says quietly to herself. “…and why Atreus reacted strangely to the song she was singing… as if he recognized it.”

“Atreus reacted to it?” Bia asks. “I should have noticed.”

Khariklo offers her hand to Rhea, inviting her to sit upon it. The girl hesitates, then reluctantly accepts.

“Let me get this straight—Cadmeia… became the Vixen?” Rhea asks, momentarily forgetting her pain.

“Correct,” the drider replies.

Bia rushes to the edge of the table where she and Leon were placed, her heart pounding.

“If she’s the Scarlet Vixen now, that means she really ate Atreus, didn’t she?” she asks.

“No. He still lives… for now,” Khariklo says as she gently brings Rhea to the table to join the others. “It was I who told Cadmeia that she must not embark on her journey without the boy.”

“What—what is she planning?” Bia asks, slipping into interrogation mode.

“She means to become human again,” the ancient yet youthful-looking drider answers. “But the power she seeks requires a sacrifice… or two. I am the one who informed her of it.”

“She wouldn’t sacrifice her own son, would she?” Leon asks. “But then again, this is the traitor that we’re dealing with.”

“WE HAVE TO STOP HER!” Bia yells. “We can’t wait for Rhea to recover!”

“It’s not for you to save him from this. He is in Fate’s hands now,” Khariklo tells them, gently setting Rhea down on the table. “She finds him… amusing.”

The drider then moves her hand toward Leon, grasping a luminous dangling thread attached to him that only her eyes can see.

“I spin and weave for the Mistress of Fate—Morgana,” she continues, gently tugging the glowing thread.

Leon and the others watch Khariklo’s movements but do not understand them.

“I can pull your threads,” she says, pinching the strand between her thumb and index finger. “I can extend it—and your life. I can cut it short. Or I can simply tell you what lies ahead.”

She examines Leon’s thread as if reading a book.

“You should not follow,” she advises.

“We have to go! Atreus could be in danger,” Bia insists.

“Tell us more… about this power,” Rhea pleads.

Khariklo hesitates to go on. “I have likely said too much already.”

Rhea feels another surge of pain tear through her body, especially her head. She grimaces, clutching her hand over her bandaged eye socket.

“PLEASE,” she begs.

Khariklo sighs as she relents. “In the end, you cannot escape Fate without change.”

She moves across the room filled with artifacts collected over millennia, murmuring to herself.

“Let’s see… where did I leave that?”

“Ah—there it is.”

The drider returns carrying a gigantic clay jar and delicately places it upon the table. The vessel is decorated with images of armor-clad giantesses and their queen.

“This relic rivals me in age,” she says, winking. “It is an artifact created by a civilization of elven giantesses called the Oiriopata. The very same civilization that shaped this archipelago.”

Her tone shifts as she continues, becoming starkly grim.

“The Oiriopata, led by one of their darker queens, Otrera, created an object of immense power called the Transmatrix, also known as the Fire of Transformation.

“These trans-world warriors possessed an insatiable hunger for conquest, and the blood they shed powered the Transmatrix.

“Only those of the female gender were spared their cruelty in every world they touched.

“Before the warrior giantesses mysteriously vanished, the Transmatrix was secured on a small island south of this one.”

Khariklo demonstrates the location for the three Torinians by placing a sheet of silk paper on the table, sketching the larger island, then the smaller one and circling it.

“I know I cannot persuade you otherwise,” she says. “However, once again, I strongly advise you not to follow them there.”

That night, in Torin City—

General Aello crouches over a group of Legionnaire officers at a defense station just outside the Great Inner Wall.

She and Legate Titan discuss possible plans.

“Do we even have enough of you little twerps to secure the southeast section of the island, Legate Titan?” Aello asks. “We’ll just be sending troops to the bellies of giants out there.”

“With the help of the mainlanders keeping the sphinxes off the islands in that direction, it shouldn’t take too great an effort to establish a secure fort there,” the Legate replies, glancing up at the imposing blood-red harpy. “This is necessary if we are to trade beyond the sea.”

“Shit… if the Queen wants it that badly, then…” Aello concedes. “We’ll send more of the Legion with some harpies to make sure they don’t get immediately eaten by predators.”

Three harpies return to the city with their reports and gently land nearby.

“What do you wretched bimbos want?” Aello snaps.

“We’ve got the status reports on the three trial teams, General,” one harpy reports.

“Spit it out, then!” the menacing red harpy barks.

Perched atop the Great Inner Wall in the distance, a harpy with magenta-and-white feathers and light-brown skin focuses her extraordinary hearing on the conversation below.

She frowns as sadness washes over her upon hearing the report and leaves her perch, flying south of the city toward the mountainside.

Out there, among the trees beyond the Great Outer Wall, she finds two harpies asleep in their nests.

“Hey, Helia! Gale! Wake up,” she calls. “Come on, get up, you mouth breathers!”

Gale stirs and yawns.

Helia remains undisturbed, sprawled on her belly and drooling as she mumbles in her sleep.

“Ah yeah… com’ere, ya fat little elves… ooh, a whole house full of ya. Mm, I’m gonna swallow you all at once. Tee hee hee.”

Noticing the visitor, Gale blinks and greets her.

“Harriet? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” Gale asks.

“No,” Harriet replies sadly.

“HELIA, WAKE UP!” she shouts, disturbing nearby harpies who prefer sleeping at night.

Helia jolts upright.

“AH! Mom, I’m sorry! I won’t do it again!”

Her eyes dart around wildly before she realizes her mother is not there.

“Umm… Harriet,” she mutters. “What’re you wakin’ us up for, ya croonin’ banshee?”

“It’s about Team Three,” Harriet says. “Atreus’s team. They’re missing.”

“WHAT?” Helia and Gale shout in unison.

“It appears there was a fight with a predator near the ruins of Old Torin. Their flag was planted, but there’s no sign of them,” Harriet says somberly.

“We’ve gotta go find them,” Helia declares, spreading her wings.

“But Helia, we are forbidden to interfere in the trials,” Gale reminds her. “They will be disqualified if we’re found out!”

“To hell with that, Gale. I’m not sittin’ on my tailfeathers while my friend might need me,” Helia snaps as she launches into the air. “You comin’, or not, Airhead?”

Gale bites her lip nervously. She quickly gathers her courage and takes off after Helia so she won’t be left behind.

“Good luck, you two,” Harriet calls after them. “I hope you find him.”

(NEXT CHAPTER)

A sketch of Leon attempting to lighten Rhea’s mood.