Moirai

May as well start at the beginning...

The day my life changed was just another ordinary Friday, so if someone told me that before the clock had even chimed two my life would change forever, and even attempted to explain what would happen, I’d have called the nearest mental hospital. I could never possibly have foreseen what a simple trip to a bookstore could lead to. If I had known, I probably wouldn’t have stepped into the shop at all.

Which is why it’s best that I didn’t know.

My alarm blaring in my ears, screaming Get up, Alnya!, I tumbled out of bed. An alarm ignored meant having Mum at my door yelling at me instead, so I chose the quieter and more peaceful option. I had cereal for breakfast, got dressed and caught the bus to school. So focussed on the day ahead I was, that I didn’t notice mum’s hands shake as she hugged me goodbye, or the looks she would shoot in my direction every few minutes.

She knew.

It was the last day of school, so a group of friends and I had plans to ditch school after lunch. Nothing important was ever taught in the last period on the last day anyway, so we were going to spend the afternoon shopping in preparation for the fast approaching prom. We weren’t usually ones for skiving, but it had become a ritual of ours to do so on the last day of term. We saved up for weeks so we could splurge and treat ourselves.

Each tick of the clock, I realised as I looked back days later, wasn’t chiming out the time before we escaped the stuffy classroom and chattering teens. It was counting down how much longer my life could be called ‘normal’.

Of course, I didn’t know that at the moment. All I could think of was when the teacher would cease her repetition of the same lesson we had covered ten times that term and I had long since memorised, made notes on, and memorised again.

My best friend’s name was Loni and we had practically grown up together. I couldn’t remember ever not knowing her. She was quiet, and unusual in both appearance and mannerisms. Her hair was a glowing shade of gold that artificial hair dyes could never replicate, her eyes the murky green-brown of a forest floor. She had a peculiar way of talking that reminded me of Shakespeare, though without the ‘thee’s’ and ‘thou’s’; every sentence sounded graceful and somewhat powerful in a way that meant I found it extremely hard to refuse her anything. Not that she asked for much.

Loni was an orphan, one of those sad souls who had absolutely no idea who her parents were and had never known anything other than the orphanage she grew up in. The strange thing was that she avoided almost any question as to the orphanage. It’s name, exact location, other orphans, and the like. I knew it was somewhere on the outskirts of South London, but that was the extent of it. She would often come to my house, for dinners and sleepovers. We frequently joked that she should just move in, and several times I asked mum to adopt her, but there was always some reason why not to. I believed her, because my mum was the sort of person who would help if she could, so I knew that her reasons were always valid.

Loni had even saved my life, once, by pulling me out of the way of an oncoming car that was speeding through a red light. How she saw it coming and acted quickly enough to save me was something that I could never comprehend, and it had been at great personal risk as well, but I was forever in her debt for it.

I was snapped out of memory lane as the clock chimed the end of the period.

“Class dismissed.” The teacher called out in his crisp, commanding voice, only to find that we were already surging out the door because all eyes had been fixed on the clock, except for mine. My friends and I clung together like a pack of wolves, fighting our way through the throng of students, out the doors, through the gate and onto the street.

“Freedom!” Stacy cried, jumping in elation as she swung her bag back and forth. Her ginger curls swayed and bounced like fire as she skipped happily ahead, her eyes, I could guarantee, fixed on the boutique a few doors down.

I grinned, understanding her excitement. We all needed this break, as this year had been the most stressful one yet, with the teachers’ promise that next year would be worse.

“Year 11 is exactly that, Year 11.” Ms Baker had chirped, as though talking to children. “It is next year that shows whether your hard work pays off or not. Now, any ideas as to which universities you will apply?”

There was always a collective sigh that whispered around the class at the endlessly repeated university question. Most kids didn’t know what they wanted to do, let alone which university they wanted to do it at. I, on the other hand, was lucky. I had a passion for teaching and a passion for working with little kids, so I was going to try and get into a Primary Education course. I could sympathise with less-organised students because of the pressure that was constantly on them from both parents and teachers.

Like Loni, for example.

We spent the next hour browsing all sorts of shops, each searching for either the perfect dress or the perfect shoes or the perfect hairdressers and, since there were four of us, it took a while. Even though I wasn’t quite as much of a shopping addict as Stacy, I was still a girl.

Then came the bookstore.

I had really been desiring something new to read. I was a proud bookworm and thus had devoured all my currently owned novels several times over. It was decided that we’d split up; Stacy and Georgia would go next door to the handbag shop, while Loni would accompany me into the treasure trove of books.

As soon as we entered, she disappeared up the back to speak with the woman at the counter. I presumed she had a specific book she wanted and, unlike me, couldn’t be bothered taking the time to find it. I, meanwhile, headed over to the fiction section and used my sixth sense to spot a good read. It had never failed me before.

Several minutes and cover blurbs later, I got a feeling that I would leave empty-handed. Nothing caught my eye and I didn’t want to keep Stacy and Georgia waiting. Then suddenly Loni tapped me on the shoulder, holding out a volume herself.

“’Moirai’.” I read the book’s title, inked in silvery letters. It was one of those old books without any cover illustrations, bound in fake leather. “What does it mean? What is it?”

“It means ‘fate’ in Ancient Greek. The personification of fate, actually. It’s for you.” She said, quite seriously. I raised an eyebrow at her and took it, going to open the first page, hoping to find a summary. “No, don’t!” she cried, snatching the book back from my hands. “Don’t open it here, wait till you get back home.”

“Why? Wait, don’t tell me. It’s got some secret power, right?” I joked, knowing that Loni often pretended such things. It was a carry-over of the make believe games we used to play as children.

But, to my surprise, she didn’t take it as such a light-hearted comment, avoiding the question altogether. “You don’t have to pay me back. Just…take it home and promise you’ll read it.”

Her voice was hushed. She had the strangest expression on her face. She almost looked…guilty.

“At least tell me what it’s about.” I pressed, although obediently placed the book into my backpack; it was one of those moments when I couldn’t say ‘no’ to her.

She made a face. “I can’t. It’s complicated. And I’m sorry.”

I presumed she was apologising for being cryptic, so I said, “It’s fine. But if I find out it’s some sort of silly joke, I’ll give it back.”

She nodded, again more seriously than necessary. “It isn’t, promise.”

I stared at her as she walked out to wait for me. Shaking my head at her curious attitude, I followed. To my relief, she pretty much went back to normal after we met up with Stacy and Georgia again, the latter of which had purchased a sugar pink clutch. I soon forgot about it and figured she was being mysterious because it was a really good book and she didn’t want to give anything away.

It wasn’t until I got home and unpacked my backpack that I realised the strangest thing about the book; it had no author.

It must be an old copy that was never sold, I thought, and the author’s name has faded. I flicked open the first page, glad that I had no homework; a good book usually meant that I would be occupied for hours at a time.

All that was written there were two words: Be prepared. I flicked through the next couple of pages, none of which included a publisher, publishing date, ISBN, ‘this book is dedicated to’, nothing. Only one sentence on each page. The next one was: Are you ready? I felt a grin come onto my face; Loni had picked a good one. “Yes.” I whispered aloud, turning the page.

Your Moirai awaits you.

My fate. This is going to be good.

The next page had absolutely nothing on it. I went to turn to the one after that, but found it and the rest of the pages glued together.

Disappointment filled me as I realised that it was a joke, after all, I glared at the empty page in front of me, slightly yellowed with age. I frowned and vowed to get Loni back somehow.

Then, before I could concoct the right method of revenge, my face began to inch closer and closer to the book until my nose touched the dry paper. It was as though the book had become a magnet to my face. I couldn’t pull away...I didn’t even want to...

Suddenly, I felt like I was falling.

Looking down, I realised with utter terror that I actually was. Like a skydiver without a parachute, I was plummeting towards a ground that was spinning far too fast for me to identify anything. Just when I thought that either someone had spiked the coffee I had at that café, or I was about to die very quickly with a horrible splat…time froze just as I was feet off the ground.

For a split second, the only thing in the world was my breathing; harsh and fast with the shock and terror and confusion. Then time started up again and I was harmlessly dropped the final distance onto what I could now identify as a European-style cobbled street.

It seemed as though the fall had drained all strength out of me. The best I could do was raise my head weakly, and even that action made it spin nauseatingly. I saw someone pad towards me, a sky-blue, floor-length dress waving around their heels, some cloth shoes covering their feet, then the darkness gathered at the edges of my vision and obscured it completely, claiming me for its own.

*~*~*

“It’s her, mother, I know it is. Kasanda confirmed it years ago.”

A familiar voice roused me from unconsciousness; Loni’s. A wave of relief fell over me as I recognised it, and realised that what had just happened had been nothing more than a bad dream. I must have fallen asleep on my bed, as I quickly gathered that I was on a bed. Loni had arrived for dinner, come to find me, and was now waking me up.

Then it hit me; Loni had called someone ‘mother’. It wasn’t a trick of hearing either. And she didn’t call my mum ‘mother’, not even by accident.

“We’ll let Kasanda decide. But she’s so young!” a warm, female voice replied to Loni. I had never heard the voice before in my life.

“I’m the same age as her, and you agreed to letting me be the Inventrix three years ago.” Loni retorted hotly.

“That’s quite a contrast to what we’re talking about here – “ the woman’s argument was cut short as Loni hissed her quiet.

“She’s awake.”

I decided that it should be then that I opened my eyes. My mind was reeling, but I was still woozy from the strange fall so coherent thought was difficult. Loni’s pale brown eyes met mine; they were anxious, expectant and apologetic.

“What’s going on? Where am I?” I asked groggily, realising quickly that the bed was not mine. My head swam slightly. Everything felt so real. Was it really a dream?

“You’re…” Loni began, but then she stopped and turned to the other person in the room. I directed my gaze at them as well and saw that the source of the female voice was a woman who appeared to be in her early forties, her brown hair pulled stiffly back into a bun and her eyes the precise same shade as Loni’s. They were boring into the younger girl’s with a steady gaze that spoke volumes I couldn’t understand. Her clothing was even stranger and consisted of an old-fashioned cream-coloured dress with a white apron, like those seen in movies set in the dark ages.

“Please leave. It’s going to be hard enough for me to explain it to her without you being here.” Loni’s voice was pleading but held a hint of respect that I had never heard her use with anyone other than a teacher.

The woman nodded stiffly, before sweeping from the room.

“Who’s she? Where am I?” I asked again, more forcefully this time as I sat up. My head still spun, but not as much as before.

Loni looked nervous as she faced me again; a look I was familiar with as one that preceded bad news. Like, ‘Mr Stahl says you’ve got detention’.

Only I had a feeling that this news was going to be far worse than detention.

“You’re…well…you’re kind of in the book.” She said hesitantly, as though the words were from a foreign language.

I stared, eyebrows raised. “What do you mean, ‘in the book’. You mean I’m dreaming about whatever was in that book? I thought it was blank.”

“You’re not dreaming.” She corrected, shaking her head and sounding firmer. “It’s difficult to explain, but that book I gave you isn’t an ordinary book. The reason why there’s nothing written in it yet is because it’s your story, it’s what is going to happen but has not happened yet.”

My mind instantly rebelled against the truth of her words, and for a moment I considered getting her to fetch me a needle so I could stab myself and wake up. But then I remembered that Loni had never lied to me before. So, I resigned myself to at least hear her out.

Over the next hour, I was explained the impossible; that the strange blank book was real, that I was someone who had been expected for years in some sort of prophecy, that the reason why I had never been told of the book before was because it wasn’t the right time. When I asked what she meant, Loni only responded vaguely by saying that she didn’t know the details, only what she was told to become an Inventrix.

“The Inventrix was destined to find the Moirai, the Fated One.” Loni continued. “I volunteered for the job five years ago, because it had to be someone young, and found you rather quickly, but I was told that I could never let you know what the truth was until you were ready. And only Kasanda could tell you the full story.”

Something seemed wrong with what she said, other than the obvious strangeness of it all, but in my current mental state I couldn’t pinpoint it. “Who’s Kasanda?” I asked rather faintly, my mind reeling with all this new and impossible information.

“A Dryad seer. Well, no-one knew she was a seer until eighteen years ago, when she had a vision foretelling your arrival. No-one but her knows what she saw exactly, only that you will somehow save us all.”

“From what?” I gasped.

She spoke the word like a curse, and in truth the room seemed to get a little bit colder: “Indina.”