I hadn’t expected to see him—Ronan—when I turned on the cliff. For a brief moment, his presence startled me, pulling me from my thoughts. But that moment passed, replaced by the familiar sensation of falling.

  The wind rushed past me, tugging at the matted tangles of my hair, heavy with neglect and salt. Falling wasn’t frightening—it was surreal, almost tranquil. I’d fallen from these heights so many times before, alone and unseen. The vastness of the sky above and the promise of the water below had become companions of sorts. How many times had I surrendered myself to this descent, seeking something I couldn’t name?

  When the water finally claimed me, everything went black for a moment, as it always did. The silence of the ocean wrapped around me like a second skin, cool and unyielding. And yet, there was a strange comfort in it. I wasn’t afraid. I knew I wouldn’t die—I’d tried hard enough in my darkest moments to understand that much. The Ocean wouldn’t allow it.

  The water welcomed me, cradling me as though I belonged to it. It wasn’t death I found here; it was healing, however fleeting. A warmth bloomed deep within, soothing the ache that had settled in my chest for so long it felt permanent. But even that warmth had dulled over time, waning since the day I’d accepted my unwilling fate.

  The salt of the sea seeped into the cracks of my spirit, sealing them just enough to keep me whole. It wasn’t enough to fix me, but it was enough to let me endure. I floated there, suspended in the water’s embrace, my hair swirling like seaweed around me. For a moment, I allowed myself to forget the cliff, the fall, and the boy who had startled me. For a moment, I could just be.

  “Hello, Naios.” The thought came unbidden as I let my body sink lower.

  A soft current brushed against me, gentle as a familiar hand. I felt an unspoken reply in its movement.

  “I know,” I thought, “it's been a long time since I came here. My mind hasn’t been as dark lately. I’m sorry for how bad it got.”

  Another current swirled around me, a subtle affirmation. I opened my eyes, but the water offered little to see—only the dark, boundless expanse stretching into the abyss. The idea of sleeping at the bottom of the cliff, where waves crashed against the rocks, held no appeal. I might be unkillable, but healing from being battered against the cliff’s unforgiving surface wasn’t a process I was eager to endure.

  I felt Naios beside me, moving as though to guard, to guide, or simply to stay close. Was Naios a fragment of my magic, a surviving spirit of the ocean, or something older than time itself? It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Naios was a companion, a listener who stayed through every silence and every loss. In the early days, before all the failed quests and the crushing weight of the island’s chains, Naios had kept me company.

  As my feet touched the sandy floor, the familiar pressure of the island’s chains pressed against me again. They were faint here but always present—a reminder that escape was an illusion. Those chains were the reason I had avoided Naios for so long.

  “I used my magic today,” I told Naios, my thoughts quieter now. “For the first time in what must be a millennium.”

  Naios didn’t respond, their currents still brushing against me. Perhaps they wanted me to contemplate the moment, or perhaps they stayed silent out of respect. Either way, their presence was enough.

  I let out a slow breath, bubbles rising around me as I swam slowly away from the cliffside, running my hand over the sand and rocks. Naios followed, a gentle companion, a lifeline to something more real than cosmic isolation.

  “Ronan,” I thought, the name slipping into my mind like a shadow. My chest tightened at the memory of seeing him on the cliff edge—the human boy who managed to surprise me when I’d hoped to avoid him. He had found my message in a bottle, and now that he was here, I felt a mix of confusion and conflict.

  I found a large rock, a seat nestled under the water, far from the chaos of the cliff. Naios settled behind me, a protective presence, their current smoothing the tangled knots in my hair. I imagined their disapproval at how I let my hair end up this way—unkempt, salt-rimmed, a reflection of my own neglect.

  “Thank you, Naios,” I thought. “Maybe I’m on the track to becoming unchained?” The optimistic thought surfaced before I could suppress it. “I’m grateful for your presence, even if I haven’t shown it in a long time.”

  Naios’ approval, though silent, wrapped around me like a warm current, their presence comforting.

  “I might be a daughter of the skies,” I continued, doubt creeping into my thoughts. “But Atlas is chained to hold up the heavens eternally.”

  Naios didn’t reply. Their silence was a prompt, a reminder to speak what I hadn’t allowed myself to admit.

  “Maybe I let myself go so long because of his burden, hoping he would find me.” My thoughts tumbled out like confessions. “Back then, I would just sit with the quest log open, hugging myself, chained to the land like him. But you remind me—I belong to the ocean too. To the sea. To the horizon that never ends.”

  Naios’ presence strengthened, their currents brushing against my back with a sense of approval that felt more powerful than words.

  “Notice: Naios has blessed you with a calming mind. This blessing is temporary and will last for forty-eight hours. During the next forty-eight hours, all negative unique attributes that affect the mind will have a reduced effect by half.”

  I closed the system window, letting Naios’ quiet reassurance wash over me. They had a way of making everything seem manageable, even the weight of time and unspoken regrets.

  I stayed quiet for a while, letting myself settle into the peaceful rhythm of Naios’ currents as they plaited my hair with quiet care. The ocean was a sanctuary in ways the world above had never been.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Hey, Naios?” I broke the silence, feeling their touch slow. “I know I technically summoned Ronan, but I don’t want this to end like all those other times. Any tips?”

  I felt Naios freeze, and a sad, almost regretful current brushed through my hair. Was it their disappointment or just the weight of my own words?

  “Don’t worry about it. Maybe the system will help?” I asked to the dark ocean instead of Naios. Though they were definitely skeptical, if this system I had with quests was going to help me, it would have done so by now. “I did get a new quest, though. I have to relearn my magic and talk to Ronan... so maybe this is it?”

  I didn’t want to hope. Hope hurt when the situation didn’t live up to expectations. But I allowed myself the smallest, faintest sliver of it.

  After a while, Naios finished with hair and gently urged me back to the shore where my small home was easily accessible and instead of goodbye, I promised I’d be back to visit. It felt good not to be weighed down by my negative emotions. And with my hair all plaited and no longer matted, I felt physically lighter.

  If it wasn’t for damn curse, I would have found myself a meadow, and rolled around in the grass and flowers for days. As I walked into my small home and got in bed, I hoped after talking with Naios I would have the courage to face the one person who could help me figure out how to break my chains.

  I felt the weight of Naios’ presence slowly fade as I drifted into sleep, the cool embrace of the sea’s current still lingering around my skin. My thoughts were tangled, pull between Ronan, who showed up because of my quest system and the chains I could never seem to escape. The warmth of Naios’ approval soothed me, but even in that peace, there was an unspoken question I couldn’t ignore. Could I truly break free this time? Could I escape the unyielding grip of this island and the fate that seemed to bind me?

  Sleep was never kind to me–not truly–but tonight, I wasn’t expecting a quiet rest. The moment my eyes closed, I was standing on a shore, the dark ocean stretching endlessly before. The air was thick with salt, and the sound of the waves crashing was almost comforting, like a familiar whisper. But I was certain, even before the Titan War I had never been on a beach like this before now. This wasn’t my usual refuge, not on the beach, and not under the water’s surface. The sand beneath my feet was cool, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no ordinary dream.

  And then they appeared.

  The Fates.

  Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.

  I knew them immediately, I was certain I hadn’t met the fates in person before, but the other gods and titans had. They just… were. And as they materialized from the crashing waves, their forms slowly taking, I could feel the weight of their on me–heavy, knowing, and infinite.

  Clotho stepped forward first, her long hair flowing like silk, her hands spinning invisible threads between her fingers. She had the air of a creator, of someone who shaped destinies with a touch. Her eyes regarded me with the distant curiosity of someone who was always watching.

  Were they still alive? Still binding the strings of destiny and reality itself, forces that operate beyond good or evil, beyond mortality and beyond hope?

  “Threads are spun with purpose, Calypso,” she said, her voice soft but clear, like the hum of a loom. “A choice begins long before it’s made. Tell me, do you seek to make your own thread, or do you only wish to tear it apart?”

  Her words hung in the air, weighty and full of meaning. I just wanted freedom from the chains I was unjustly burdened with. Was that really a making of my own destiny, to carve my own path? Or was the threads spun, the chains I was anchored to, and it was a perspective shift?

  Before I could think much more on this and give an answer, Lachesis moved in next, taller than Clotho, her robes glimmering like the fabric of time itself. She stepped into the space between us, her gaze intense as she looked me over, assessing, measuring, understanding.

  “Every decision, even those never made, lengthens or shortens a path,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand choices. “Your quest is not just about escape; it is about what you choose to weave or not to weave with your time. Every moment spent now writes the future.”

  A flicker of images flashed in my–possibilities, choices I could make or avoid, consequences that stretched out like a tangled web. The vision of me leave island, of breaking a staying chained, of how Ronan fit, all slipped through my consciousness and then spilled out like water in a cracked cup, not yet threads.

  And then, as always, Atropos. She stepped from the shadows, cold and silent, her eyes locked onto mine with a terrifying certainty. Her cloak was black as the abyss, and the blade at her side gleamed with an unsettling sharpness. The air around her heavy with inevitability, and her gaze alone made the world feel smaller, the choices narrower.

  “The end could be written, but isn’t permanently set, it’s fluid, ever changing,” Atropos said, her voice low and final. “Freedom or chains, survival or loss–it all leads to a snipping of reality’s threads. As you are now, do you have the strength to endure my cut?”

  Her words landed like strokes in my chest, and I could feel the familiar sting of despair. No matter what Chose, the end would always come. But could I endure it? Could I face the choices I need to make to escape these chains?

  I swallowed, standing firm in the face of them all. My chest ached with the pressure of their eyes, the missing memories of choices I couldn’t make and did make. But I didn’t want to let it break me fully, I was cracked now, but I might be able to fix myself to endure this.

  “If I choose my own thread–if I fight to weave what I dreamt of for millennia–what price will it cost?” The question slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

  The three sisters stood still for a long moment. Clotho’s fingers paused in mid-air, her gaze never leaving me. Lachesis tilted her head, and Atropos... Atropos didn’t speak, but her presence was like an impending storm.

  Finally, it was Clotho who answered, her voice soft and patient, yet steeped in the inevitability of her role. "The price is more than you know. To weave your own thread is to challenge the loom itself. The patterns of your choices will fray what you believe unbreakable. What is most precious may be lost."

  Lachesis stepped closer, her golden measuring rod glinting in the dim light. "But without the courage to choose, the weight of stagnation will crush you. Immortality is not freedom; it is a sentence. You must decide if the chains you wear are heavier than the blade that awaits you."

  Atropos tilted her head ever so slightly, her gaze piercing into mine. Her voice, when it finally came, was softer than I expected. "Every thread snaps, one way or another. The strength to endure my cut is not the question you should ask. It is whether you have the will to face what it reveals."

  Their words burned into me, their truths sharp as any blade. The missing pieces of my memories, the fragments of who I once was, pressed against my chest like weights I could no longer ignore. The Fates didn’t offer comfort, nor did they give warnings without reason. Their presence was a reminder: the threads of my destiny were not theirs to dictate but mine to face.

  My voice wavered, but I didn’t let it break. "If I am to pay a price, I will pay it. But I will not stay chained. Not to this island. Not to fear."

  The Fates exchanged looks that seemed to carry a thousand meanings I couldn’t decipher. Then, as quickly as they appeared, they faded, leaving behind only the weight of their words and the faint shimmer of threads I hadn’t yet grasped.