Plurk paste

This year was the first year in decades that Xena hadn’t gone to the Temple of the Fates on the day it had happened. Being in Pieria had made that impossible, something that cut deeper than she liked to admit. But even if she couldn’t make her annual trip, she wasn’t willing to let the anniversary go unobserved.

She set out at midday, making her past the city and up onto the marble path of Mytikas. She knew the gate will be locked when she finally reached it. She didn’t care; it suited her purposes well enough as it was. The climb itself took the better part of the day, and the sun was already dipping behind the mountain when she took three candles from her pack and quietly placed them off to the side of the path, near to the gate. She knelt, lighting the first candle before pausing to address some unseen audience.

“Sorry I couldn’t quite make it to the usual place this time. I’m going to have to improvise a little. I hope you don’t mind.”

With that, her actions and her voice became more formal, more ritualized, and she lit the other two candles as she spoke.

“By this flame, I call on the three Fates: The Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. Comfort my brother, Lyceus, whose life you cut short this day twelve years ago. In his memory, I ask it.”

It felt different this time. Last year she had met the Fates, saved their temple, and, as a reward, been reunited with her brother for a while. But you can’t go backwards. She learned that then and she knew that now. Still, the loss felt closer to the surface; she could close her eyes and see him smiling at her.

She didn’t know exactly how long she sat there, thinking, meditating, praying- whatever you wanted to call it. Eventually, though, she did stand and turn to go, giving the candles one final glance as she descended down towards the town.