Strands of Fate
Page 23
Gavin could hold his peace no longer.
“How do you know all of this?” he demanded, feeling anger welling up in his chest. “And why is it that you’ve never shared it with me?”
It felt like the deepest of betrayals. The man that had been a father figure to Gavin for so long had kept so many secrets from him.
But why?
The Weaver turned sad eyes on Gavin. “I have trusted one man with this knowledge, and it was a mistake that I fear we will all live to regret for a long time to come. He calls himself Nero, and the truth of what I shared with him created the vengeful monster that he has now become. He hates Humanity with a deep passion for what they did to our people.
“He wants to finish what the Forlorn started, wiping them out wherever they are found. And it is my responsibility to stop him, because it is my fault. I should have seen the darkness in his heart; should have kept from him the burden of that which I shared in ignorance.”
The room was silent as a grave. Gavin’s fists were clenched, and his heart was heavy.
“You could have trusted me. I dedicated my life to Tapestry and your cause. I deserved to know the truth of why we were doing it. I’m not like Nero. I could never be like him.”
The Weaver sighed. “You forget that we both trusted Nero, once, too. I would never have believed what he was capable of. His push to resurrect CEDAR, his obsession with the pods, his insatiable desire to destroy Humanity...all could have been prevented if I had only kept this knowledge to myself. He wants to complete the work that the Humans began, bring our race back to the glorious vision that he believes it was always intended to be.”
“But you still haven’t told us how you know all of this,” Ollie pressed in a subdued voice. “If the knowledge were truly lost in the Great War, how is it that you came to possess it? How can you verify its accuracy?”
There was a long pause. Gavin sat stiffly, waiting for an explanation that would stop him from feeling the horrible feelings now churning in his gut.
“The Great War stole generations from us,” the Weaver said at last. “The Originals were lost, their children forced to deal with the consequences of their actions, and their children after them. But one thing remained. You see, the project was shuttered before the Human scientists could discover that they had not failed in their original mission.
“At least one of their experiments was a success. A perfect Theran, invulnerable to natural death. One who had been born a Human, but had had the cruel fate of eternity thrust upon him.”
As the Weaver turned back to him, Gavin could read the truth in his eyes. He did not need to hear any more.
He finally understood.
The Weaver pulled up his right sleeve, revealing a very faint black mark.
Gavin wouldn’t have thought much of it under normal circumstances, but now he peered closely, and could just make out the fact that it was a string of numbers and letters.
“I was born Human,” the Weaver said in a deadpan, exhausted voice. “And I became the first Theran. The first Elf. I no longer felt I had any right to my birth name, and took a moniker derived from the serial number that my tormentors had branded me with. W3V3-12.
“I spent a lot of time laying in my bed, staring at that number. The mark has faded, but the memory has not. This is the place in which I was cursed with immortality, cursed with endless years in which to view the cost of our great ambitions. My old self is buried here, among these ruins…many things are buried here.”
Gavin did not remember standing up.
He did not remember walking from the room, nor the calls of Ollie at his back. He did not remember leaving the ruins, walking into the trees.
The trees, the beautiful trees, who took no notice of him. Who did not nag.
After a time, Gavin slowly became aware of his surroundings, finding himself alone. No one had followed him, perhaps thinking it best to leave him to work this out on his own.
A cold breeze washed over him and he closed his eyes, the telltale signs of the arrival of autumn carrying with them a deep sense of foreboding.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but when the Weaver appeared beside him the light had begun to fade.
They stood, side by side, as night fell around them.
“We are all inevitably affected by the great river of time,” the Weaver said, his words heavy with regret. “Whether we sit by and let the waters flow over us, passively being shaped into who we will become, or whether we drink deeply from the endless reserves of knowledge as they flow past, is up to us.”
Gavin gave a half-chuckle, part amusement and part disdain.
“That’s easy for you to say. The reserves are only endless for you; you’re immortal.”
The Weaver offered a little smile, just visible in the gathering darkness.
“Immortality does not make one wise. If we sit by the shore, admiring our own reflections on the surface of the water for all eternity, we learn nothing except our own vanity. But to dive in, to immerse ourselves in the past, that will allow us to understand what has been, and what will yet be.”
Gavin shook his head.
“If that’s true, then you should have shared this with everyone. You say you started Tapestry to preserve truth, to spread it. Yet all the while, you have concealed so much; the very origins of who we are. The people deserve to know.”
The Weaver seemed to ponder his words for a moment before turning to face Gavin.
“For so long I feared that, as once Nero used the knowledge of history for his own twisted ambitions, so too would others. If the true origins of our species came to light, I believed that it would lead to the quick and utter destruction of the last vestiges of Humanity. But I have seen people do deeds of great evil even in great ignorance. My own ignorance is what kept me from sharing all of this with you long ago. I don’t ask your forgiveness, but I do ask that you not give up on Tapestry. The idea is strong, even if the leader is flawed. Despite my many imperfections, destiny came for me, Gavin. Destiny comes for us all. Whether or not you want it, it will come for you, too.”
Gavin did not answer for a long time.
Then he whispered, “I will not abandon Tapestry, father.”
He turned and began walking back toward the ruins of Cedar Grove Innovative Technologies, back toward whatever destiny awaited him in the battle to come.
The Weaver’s voice called after him.
“Where are you going?”
Gavin replied without hesitation.
His path was clear.
“To save Humanity.”
About the Author
In the amount of time it takes you to read this, R.F. Hurteau will have finished yet another cup of coffee. More caffeine than human, she harnesses the powers of this magical bean juice to create stories that explore worlds unknown through the lens of that age old curiosity that drives all creatives: the human condition. She lives in New England with her husband, five kids, and an impressive array of animal friends. Her ultimate mission is to craft light, character-driven science fiction that is accessible to all, and by doing so slowly turn everyone into nerds. Looks like you’re still here, so…
Connect on rfhurteau.com, Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook!
Sneak Preview: Book 4
Antiquity’s Gate: Memoirs of the Forgotten
When darkness falls, and all is lost,
How sweet, that final breath.
Heart cease to drum, and respite come,
Through gentle kiss of death.
What pain and angst and endless trial,
How constant threat abound,
A world to save, before the grave,
Before relief is found.
O how long regret endures,
Till none can bear its weight.
So peace—be still, though come what will,
You cannot challenge fate.
In strife and woe the battles rage,
The brave the first to fall,
Nau
ght to defend, when shall it end?
When night comes for us all.
Does the darkness come for you? Find out in Memoirs of the Forgotten, available here.
A Note from the Author
I hope you weren’t too confused by the opening chapter. I hit you with brand new characters straight out of the gate! (See what I did there?) You’ve just completed Strands of Fate, the third installment in my Antiquity’s Gate series.
I’m hoping this book answered some of the more pressing questions you’ve been jotting down since you first started your journey with me. A lot of people have been asking about the Therans. They have a story all their own, and I’ve been waiting and waiting and WAITING to tell you all about it. Oh, there’s more. But hopefully this satisfied you for the time being.
If you enjoyed reading my story, I would greatly appreciate if you would take a few moments to leave a review. Indie authors depend on the honest reviews of readers like you to help spread awareness of their works! It would mean a lot to me.
I love talking to my readers! Feel free to contact me directly at r.hurteau@outlook.com, at rfhurteau.com or connect with me on Twitter, Instagram or Facebook, where I’m @rfhurteau.
Sincerely,
R.F.
More Books in this Series: Book 1
Antiquity’s Gate: Three Days Till Dawn
History would not remember Ripley Prior.
More From this Series: Book 2
Antiquity’s Gate: Through a Mirror, Darkly
Some seem doomed to repeat history…others are determined to.
Coming Soon: Book 4
Coming November 26, 2019
Antiquity’s Gate: Memoirs of the Forgotten
Even the sky has boundaries.