“Five hundred!” A harpy launched herself in the air, her screech rising over the chaos. “No, one thousand!”
It was a good price, for a regular bride. For a woman like Callista, it was almost insulting.
A basilisk hissed from the middle tiers. “Two thousand!”
I knew I should be patient, as Loxias had suggested. The bidding war would only become fiercer. Still, I couldn’t help but flare my hellfire. “Three thousand!”
It was not enough. Loxias got up, and the simple gesture rendered everyone silent. “Five thousand!”
My heart hammered. I had eight thousand crystals saved from years of harvesting across the borderlands. Enough to bid seriously and command respect from other monsters. But the Weaveguard’s backing ran deeper than any individual fortune. For the first time in my life, I resented my brother’s access to the Moirae Treasury.
Phonos laughed, the sound sharp and dangerous. “Seven thousand crystals from the House of Keres!”
The House of Keres. Phonos came from an influential weave-line, their wealth and influence surpassing that of anyone in Asphodelia. I didn’t have that luxury. Only my own personal savings.
“Eight thousand,” I offered, my composure hanging by a thread. I already knew what would happen, but like an animal caught in a trap, I couldn’t help but fight, anyway.
It took seconds for me to be outbid. Loxias countered with ten thousand from the Moirae treasury. Phonos raised to twelve thousand. Numbers that represented my lifetime earnings tossed around like pocket change.
“Fifteen thousand crystals!” Loxias called out, somehow still sounding as calm as before.
Fifteen thousand crystals represented wealth beyond most monsters’ dreams. By my side, Skaros and Aion cursed. They both knew, like everyone here, that I was finished.
But Phonos wasn’t willing to back down. “Eighteen thousand crystals! The Keres Spire stands firm in our claim to this bride.”
My chest burned. I’d bet everything I owned, but it had been pointless. Or was it?
Callista hadn’t acknowledged Phonos and Loxias throughout the entire bidding war. Through every escalating offer and display of wealth, her gaze remained fixed on mine.
“Twenty thousand crystals!” Loxias bellowed, and his deep voice made the torches flare brighter. “Callista of Agrion belongs to the Moirae, and no one else.”
Even Phonos hesitated at that astronomical number. Twenty thousand crystals could purchase armies, reshape kingdoms.Buy slices of immortality itself from the most powerful entities in existence.
“Any higher bids?” Phix asked, surveying the crowd with keen, but amused eyes.
Silence stretched over the agora. I stood frozen, lost in the crowd, everything I owned already spent. Worthless against the greater wealth and influence of my own littermate.
“Then let the bride choose from our most generous suitors.” Phix gestured toward the highest bidders. “Orthrus Loxias, Weaveguard for our much Revered Moirae, with twenty thousand crystals, Phonos of the Keres Spire with eighteen thousand. Come forth for her consideration.”
Loxias descended the steps with measured grace. His eyes were heavy with inscrutable knowledge, and he was everything I could never hope to be.
Phonos glided down gracefully, his wings spread toward Callista in offering. The perfect predator wrapped in beauty that could fool anyone who hadn’t seen him kill.
Callista examined them both with careful attention. Then she shifted toward my section of the amphitheater, her gaze finding mine across the distance. “What about him? The harvester who bid eight thousand crystals.”
Every monster in the crowd shifted to follow her gaze. Why would she want to see one of the lowest bidders when an Orthrus and a Keres had thrown fortunes at her feet?
“Bride, our traditions dictate you choose from the highest bidders only.” Phix angled toward Loxias and Phonos, her tail twitching in agitation. “Those who can provide the greatest security and status.”
Callista lifted her chin and squared her shoulders, defiance written in every fiber of her being. “Then make an exception.”
The agora erupted into confused murmurs, but no one dared challenge her directly. She was the death-touched bride, and her choice trumped their personal opinions.
“Interesting.”
The sole word echoed through the agora, soft, yet deafening at the same time. I blinked, and there she was. Lachesis, the Measurer. She was as ancient as Lake Acheron itself, but her stern, ageless beauty spits in the face of simple concepts like time. Her measuring rod, alongside Clotho’s spindle and Atropos’s scissors, decided the fate of everyone in Asphodelia. She was one of our Revered Moirae, and to see her here both awed me and filled me with dread.
The murmurs died as everyone in the amphitheater dropped to one knee. I wanted nothing more than to keep looking at Callista, but even I couldn’t ignore the Moirae’s power.
