Matthew watched a stray snowflake on his windshield. It was isolated in a patch of clear glass, the other flakes drifting far away like they were too afraid to come close.
"Just be more outgoing," Matthew murmured under the sounds of muffled winds whipping against his windows.
The car was dark and empty, just him talking to himself as usual. Out there in front of his apartment was John, a neighbour he'd rather not talk to. He enjoyed these dark moments in the car before he went into his dreary apartment.
His eyes flicked toward the road. Just past the streetlight, something moved. A shape—blurred and distorted—loomed in the shadows.
Then it was gone.
Just snow, swirling in the winter wind.
Matthew swallowed hard. "Something's wrong with me."
The chill in the car was sharp, but not unbearable. Comforting, in a way. He exhaled, grabbed his work bag, and stepped out. Snow crunched under his shoes as he jogged into the apartment complex. The cold wind billowed in his ears, his eyes closed as the chill bit into him.
"Oi, wonder boy, How are you my friend?" John smirked as he entered. He was a wide-bellied man, he had a fairly receded hairline. His breath was warm and pungent with beer.
Matthew smiled and said. "Mr John! How are you sir? It's nice to see you today with this… wonderful weather."
John laughed, "Proper cold this night, help yourself to some." The older man said, handing Matthew the beer.
"Got a can in my place, don't worry about me. Have a good night." Matthew slipped past.
"Too good for my beer, huh?"
He ignored the quip and got into the elevator, offering the man a toothy grin. The elevator creaked and shuddered as it went up.
The hallway was silent. He quickened his pace, knowing John's daughter would be stepping out soon.
The door cracked open as she stepped out before he could get in. Jodie stepped out, careful, quiet. She had long red hair, black eyeliner, soft eyes that lingered a little too long.
Ice skating, huh?
Matthew put on the smile again, "um, Jodie right? Good evening."
He tried walking by but Jodie asked, "Hey! I haven't seen you for a week. How's work been?"
Matthew's face twitched, "Well, I can't recommend graduating."
She laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Heading out for a skate with some mates from the course—fancy tagging along?
Matthew glanced at his door. "Sounds awesome, I'm just a bit out of it. It's been a very long day."
"I won't talk you out of it, but I promise I won't waste your night." She argued.
Matthew walked away from her, smiling. "Have fun Jodie."
His apartment was small—minimal by choice. A few steps from the door to the kitchen, a short hallway to his room. Books, monitors, and a small bed with a sheathed short sword hanging over it. The only reason he chose this place was the bedroom space.
Well, that—and the distance from everything else. He took a piss, cursing the cold and then flopped onto the couch after getting a beer from his noisy fridge and caught the last half hour of the football game.
Honestly, they were a shit team. Always had been and it would have been unfair to ask more of them. They were underfunded and unappreciated, Matthew would never know this team if he hadn't inherited it from his father.
He stared at the screen and thought of the other reason he moved here.
I should visit the graves.
A jarring ping from his phone—a message from his sister.
She's probably on break, I'm supposed to come before Christmas.
Maybe he could convince his sister to come here instead, just the two of them. They'd watched their favorite movies and he'd sleep on the couch.
But then he pictured Grandma tagging along and scrapped the idea.
Matthew believed he had more than enough trivial problems.
One of his colleagues had failed to check his sources and it got the entire team thrown into the grinder by their boss. Matthew figured he'd best finish his research for the next piece or get another tongue lashing tomorrow.
"I'll visit the graves," he muttered. "Then the pub. Then the Western Bank library."
Matthew finished the beers and left almost immediately. It was odd for him since nights like this were for playing a game of magic or reading a decent book. He just had the urge to visit, maybe talk to his parents a little after such a horrible day.
Downstairs, John was still there. Except his daughter Jodie was out there with him. They were in a bit of an argument, if you could call it one.
"Out again, huh? Aren't you a hard worker?" John asked as he passed.
"Put some work off too long—boss'll have my head tomorrow if I don't finish." Matthew said as he passed. Jodie gave him a pleading look that made him consider helping.
John snarled at her, "Don't go roping him into your mess." He pulled her and pushed her roughly into the building, "Don't mind her busy bee, she's trying to throw herself around. I won't allow it, her mom always waits till I'm out."
He got to the car, leaving before John could ask for a ride to the pub. When he closed the door he let out a breath.
"It's her dad, there wasn't anything I could do. I don't want to get into a shouting match with John, he's a long winded fool. Man could talk for hours and say nothing," Matthew reassured.
He leaned his head back against the car seat. His chest ached—not from sickness or cold, just... tiredness.
Maybe tomorrow he'd text his sister. Maybe he'd stop ignoring those calls.
But not tonight.
He just wanted silence.
He closed his eyes, signing, "I don't want to have to deal with anyone anymore."
Then—the world tilted.
The warmth of his seat vanished. The air whipped against his skin like silk. He gasped as pressure crushed in from all sides, whispers coiling around him in a maddening crescendo
His skin screamed under the weight of something unseen.
He opened his eyes and found himself sitting on the ground.
It was a strange white stone temple. Massive, carved from a pristine white stone—its polished luster throwing back light.
The length of the temple boggled the mind, turning the hundreds of people in the temple into small distant shapes.
Four great pillars defined the temple, wider than six men, so tall you had to arch your neck to see where it connected to sweeping arches that nestled an ancient darkness.
They seemed to have been carved long ago yet they shone with a Timeless strength
In the center of the ancient temple, a dark crystal fountain drew all their eyes. An ominous statue sat on it, a woman with six long and spindly arms.
On her head was a jagged crown, her face twisted into a look of disdain.
Four iron braziers burned high above, their flames a steady, low red. The light they cast stretched the arches into long shadows, creating endless patterns of false corridors along the smooth floors.
Matthew looked around, at the many confused people around him. Everyone was silent for a moment, a shared second where they all adjusted to the sudden shift of reality.
"What the actual hell?" Matthew whispered.
——
Far beyond the strange temple, in an empty world dominated by an endless stretch of sea.
A lonely mountain floated in the air above the still, quiet waters. Above the ocean, a chaotic sky enveloped the world.
It was eerily dark, but dotted by varying stars of different colors.
Reds that roared against the darkness, yellows that instead curled and bent the lightless void and blues that occasionally struck the ocean below raising strange new forms into existence.
Percy sat atop the floating mountain and watched as a great pillar dotted with diamonds rose from the sea. He sighed and turned back to a floating orb in front of him.
Footsteps treading the soft grass bed reached his ears, his eyes darkened and the dark empty world began to shudder, waves beginning to form in the quiet ocean.
"Rest easy brother, It is I, Goloth." A deep, ancient voice said, a man climbing up the hill with the careful steps of someone old.
Percy smiled brightly, the tense air releasing a breath of relief. He had dark hair in a bob cut and wore a white tee, joggers and a pair of trainers.
Goloth was bald with a beard reaching down to his round belly, the brown sackcloth he wore swished with his slow steps and his strong gaze had always seemed perennial and unyielding to Percy.
"What's up, you ancient pile of bones—done with your assignment?" Percy said, his voice light and playful.
Goloth sat beside him with a strenuous groan and glared at the younger man.
"Of course, I like to keep to our mandates. You would finish quickly too, if you made the challenge less vague and confusing."
"It's no fun that way, I enjoy this and intend for them to get the most out of it."
He looked back at the floating orb in front of him, it was focused on a young man with scattered dark hair and an unkept beard that swallowed his face. He had startling blue eyes resting under a pair of worn glasses with a golden frame.
"My newest batch is more interesting, I have a feeling they'll be able to end the story. Of course they may just die horribly, as usual."
"Why do you speak like that?" Goloth asked, looking mildly annoyed.
"Picked it up on their world, one of the best I've been to. In more serious news, why are you here? Is something wrong with the Root?"
"I had a feeling to come see you, now I think it may be the guidance of Fate or the Hammer." Goloth said looking somberly at the chaotic sky, a weak frown making him look thousands of years older.
Percy raised an eyebrow, turning up to the chaotic sky. "Aren't you meant to be a master of fate?"
"You do not find by seeking," he replied simply.
"What does the constellation say then?"
Goloth remained quiet for a while, studying the endless darkness of the sky and finding a cluster of stars connected by radiant strips of light.
"You may be right about this batch, but the end will be bloody. A great monster wrapped by dark skies will throw things into chaos and you'll see an end you never expected."
Goloth stood, a dark gaze in his eyes and began to leave.
Percy's face remained unchanged, he smiled coyly. "Nothing to warn me about old man?"
"Be watchful of 'her'. You weren't alive back then. She is one of the most terrifying beings I've met. No one left their mark on Fate like she did."
Goloth disappeared from the field, likely to go speak to the Star.
Percy rolled his eyes and continued watching the orb, but a little rhyme danced over his mouth.
"What cannot live after death is not a god."