Page 98 of Touch

To them. Five figures march forward in unison, their carved, polished features impervious to the elements. Two gods and three goddesses. Once, they’d been archers like her. Yet they have since renamed themselves, their elevated monikers inspired by timeless things that presently escape Love’s mind as she struggles to focus beyond their ancient eyes.

The Fate Court. The five divinities who rule over The Dark Fates, much as titans do in fiction.

One dark goddess draped in an iridescent gown, the astral-woven textile whipping around her ankles and shoulders, the material as luminous as a galaxy. Another goddess with amethyst hair, as well as voluptuous curves like Wonder. And a third goddess of hypnotic, epicene beauty, her pale skin swathed in pearly lace, like starlight itself.

A god with a hawkish nose and two braids hanging down to his waist like ropes. And a cloaked god with slanted brows that trap him in an eternal frown.

These are the first faces she’d beheld from her crib. Growing up, Love had spent hours emulating their walk and the richness of their voices. Long ago, they used to be her saviors.

Today, Love must be her own savior, for they are not here to humor her. The rulers spread out and form a crescent around her and Andrew. Amid a tempest, their posture is flawless, their presence enhanced by the flurries. It does not matter that the blizzard had started before the deities arrived. The Court has sparked a craze in winter, and the storm is thrashing now, welcoming her rulers but killing her mortal.

Or rather, that is untrue. Nature has no superiors. Love’s disoriented mind is embellishing.

Ice. Spasms. Agony.

Love gathers Andrew against her chest in a feeble attempt to keep his body warm. She hunches, her cascading hair shielding his visage while she turns to Anger in desperation.

The archer gives her a terrible, mournful look. He rises and stalks backward—back toward her crew. Envy, Sorrow, and Wonder. They’re standing behind The Fate Court, watching with slack jaws.

Yet they shouldn’t be here. Love has done what she was supposed to.

She bundles her wounded hand into a fist to staunch the blood. “W-what d-do you want-t-t?”

In a synchronized move, The Court answers. They raise five bows nocked with arrows.

“Move away from the human,” the god with slanted brows commands.

No. This isn’t fair. The danger is over.

Love’s gaze swings between the deities. It finally lands on Wonder, who’s silent and locked in a stupor. The rest of their crew remains quiet instead of speaking up or doing something, anything to stop this.

The pinpricks of treachery assault Love’s flesh. They have never claimed to be her friends, but they were raised and trained together. And yes, she’d wrongly assumed Wonder had become kindred among so many adversaries.

So be it. This must be Love’s fight. It’s her battle, with her frostbitten hands and sliced palm, with her chattering teeth and small frame racked by cold.

The god repeats in a silky, impatient tone, “Back away, Love. You’ve grown too ill to influence the mortal. Your arrows have failed, and he remains a threat. We’ll take over from here.”

Love crushes Andrew against her. “No.”

“Release him. Now!”

Swallow. Tremble. Defy.

“F-f-fuck y-you,” she seethes, drawing out the insult.

Five pairs of eyes spark with a mixture of disappointment, intolerance, and cruelty.

“Anger,” the cloaked god barks, his garment slapping the air.

Anger hesitates. “Almighty rulers. Perhaps we should wait and see—”

“Restrain your peer! Protect her!”

Anger grimaces, then advances. With a hiss, Love releases Andrew. She flings herself across the snow and snatches an arrow with her uninjured hand, her fingers gripping the shaft. Lurching off the ground, she barrels into Anger and haphazardly sweeps the tip at the god’s face.

He knocks it from Love’s grasp with more force than intended, the blow striking her to the earth, where she crumbles against Andrew. A cry rips from her lungs, and her wrist throbs a nasty rhythm against her skin.

“Fuck!” Distraught, Anger launches to her side. “Love, I didn’t mean—”

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