Chapter 3

Marcus leaned back in his chair, the candlelight flickering off the amber hues of his whiskey. He took a deep breath, the warm liquid sliding down his throat as he steeled himself for what he was about to say. “Mary,” he began, his eyes meeting hers, “I need to tell you something else that’s going to sound a bit ... out there.”

Marcus watched as Mary’s eyes widened with surprise. “You see,” he continued, his voice taking on a solemn tone, “the Fates, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, they’re not just mythological figures. They’re real, and they’re not just three ancient goddesses spinning threads of destiny anymore. They’re evolving, adapting to this modern world.” He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in.

“And I,” he said, leaning closer to her, “I am married to them. To all three of them. It’s a bit ... complicated, but it’s part of the deal I made to become one of them. But there’s something else. Something the prophecy didn’t account for.” His gaze grew intense, his eyes searching hers for understanding. “There’s a fourth seat at the loom, and it’s been vacant for millennia. The time has come for me to find my fourth wife.”

Mary’s hand trembled slightly as she gripped her wine glass. “What does this mean?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Marcus took her hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “It means,” he said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone, “that I need your help. The prophecy speaks of a mortal woman with a heart pure as gold and a spirit as fierce as a lion. One who can weave a thread of hope into the tapestry of fate.”

The room grew quiet, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. Marcus looked at her with an intensity that made her heart race. “Mary, I believe that woman is you.” The revelation hung in the air, heavy with significance. “But,” she protested, “I’m just a regular person. I don’t know the first thing about weaving destiny!”

He squeezed her hand gently. “But you do know about love, about compassion, about fighting for what’s right. That’s all it takes to be a fate. The rest, we can learn together.”

Mary felt a warmth spread through her chest. It was like a spark had been lit within her, illuminating a path she had never known existed. “What happens if I say yes?” she asked, her voice steady despite the racing thoughts in her head.

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving hers. “If you agree to be the fourth fate, we’ll face challenges beyond your wildest dreams. You’ll learn to control time, to see the threads of destiny, and to weave them as you see fit.” His expression grew serious. “But it’s not all power and beauty, Mary. There’s darkness too. We face enemies who seek to unravel the very fabric of existence.”

The weight of his words settled around her like a heavy blanket. The thought of wielding such power was terrifying, yet the idea of being with Marcus, of sharing in his eternal journey, was intoxicating. She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through her body. “What are these enemies?” she asked, her curiosity piqued despite her fear.

Marcus’s smile faded, and he grew solemn. “They are the Shadow Weavers, a clandestine group that seeks to manipulate fate for their own twisted ends. They’ve been weaving misery and chaos into the threads of life for eons, hoping to topple the balance we strive to maintain.” His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with anger. “They are the reason my wives and I have had to be so vigilant. But with you by my side, I believe we can restore the light to the tapestry of destiny.”

Mary’s heart pounded in her chest. The gravity of Marcus’s revelation was overwhelming, yet she felt a strange sense of purpose stirring within her.

“But why me?” she asked, still trying to make sense of it all. “What makes you think I’m the one?”