Let's revisit Clotho back down on earth in B.C., to see how her plan plays out :)

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Scene 6: The Line

2020 B.C.

As the mother smiled at her child - at the promise of life in his eyes - Clotho felt certain that, no matter what the cost had been, this moment was worth everything. It had to be. Each tear of joy the mother shed as she embraced her son, the boy who had been fated to die far too young. Now all the sadness and injustice of his illness was undone.

Clotho's soul smiled at the sight, full of gratitude toward her eldest sister for granting this favor. She only wished that Atropos could witness this moment, to see firsthand the life she'd saved. To feel this sense of certainty that what she'd done was right.

The Fate of death carried more feeling, more depth, in her immortal heart than she would ever admit. This Clotho knew. Despite her recent words about her sister's ignorance of love - words that she had instantly come to regret - she knew. There was no way that Atropos would doubt the choice she'd made, if she were here to see this, too.

"Thank you," the mother whispered, upraising her gaze from her child's flushed face, for the first time since she'd seen him wake today. Smiling at Clotho through a ceaseless swell of tears. "Thank you."

Clotho returned the smile, then took a cautious step toward the child's bedside as the mother beckoned for her to come closer.

"Say thank you, dear one," the woman bade her son. "Thanks to her merciful grace, you have been saved."

The boy looked up, bright eyes unblinking as he stared upon the mortal Fate who'd saved him. Eyes the color of springtime: the blue of a bird's egg, the blessing of life and new birth. It should have been the hue of happiness and hope. Yet as Clotho met the child's gaze, she felt a shudder course through her immortal soul - for she saw sorrow there, fear and despair... as if this life were not a blessing, but a curse.

She did not dwell on the thought for long. Assured herself that she had just imagined it, as curious neighbors started filtering into the humble home, eager to set eyes upon the miracle performed. Indeed, the child's speedy and complete recovery was no small feat. Just overnight, he seemed to be cured entirely of a sickness that had led him to death's doorstep, nearly past it, set to perish any minute. And now here he was, hale and healthy as ever.

To most of the town, this served as proof enough, that the stranger in their midst had to be the vessel of some special sort of power. The few who remained skeptical were outnumbered, for which Clotho was deeply relieved. She was to be protected, and her word respected, now that a majority believed.

"I promise that your faith in me is not misplaced," she addressed a gathered crowd that day. "The gods were glad to grant this act of mercy, and they shall smile upon the people of this realm, so long as you lead lives of virtue and redeem your wayward ways."

Because these villagers were such a simpleminded bunch, they were in dire need of guidance, readily heeding Clotho's insights as to how to set their lives upon a virtuous path. She offered as much wisdom as she could, based on her sense of what was right and what was good. The answers weren't always clear, as she had known to expect - the fine line between right and wrong was often so indistinct as to barely exist. But the lofty ideal of virtue, however illusory or elusive it might be, was still worthwhile to pursue. For many of the people of this town, that concept was completely new.

Clotho was glad, and proud. More so than she had ever been, of herself, during all her time so far on earth. She observed the villagers' behavior throughout the day, advising them when they approached her with questions. Pleased that they seemed truly eager to change, to abide by her word. Granted, their reforms were born of fear - fear that the gods would strike them down, as Clotho had warned, if they erred - but she wasn't sure whether that mattered. So long as she was lessening the darkness in their hearts, in one way or another, then she was working toward what did matter. Striving to save her mother.

"My mother is dying," an unfamiliar voice interrupted Clotho's solitary silence, where she sat upon a nearby beach that evening, mind suffused with the warm honey hues of her own mother's gaze. The town that she was currently visiting was situated on an island; the coastline boasted stunning views, of a sea that her soul recognized as the Aegean, striking in the depth and darkness of its blue. The same sea that bordered the lands where she'd traveled with Rider. She had set her thread faraway from his, but not too far, for her second descent to earth.

She cleared away the fleeting memory of Rider, turning to greet the stranger who'd come up beside her. "I... I am so sorry to hear that."

The girl - who appeared roughly as old as Clotho would be, if her mortal form had an actual age - heaved a sigh. "She's been ill for some time. I reckon it would be too much to ask for... for another miracle..."

Clotho bit her lip. A part of her had been afraid of this: that once mercy was shown toward one ailing soul, others would come to seek the same. Understandably so. When she spoke, her words were hesitant and slow. "I truly am sorry, for you and your mother. But the gods meant this miracle not as a favor toward anyone in particular; rather, as a gesture-"

"To prove that you're a vessel of their power," the girl cut in. "So that we would believe you. Yes, I know. I'm sorry for asking; I just thought it might be worth a try. Couldn't live with myself otherwise, once she dies. I hope you understand the desperation of a daughter."

All too well, Clotho bitterly mused as her visitor excused herself, heart too hopeless to wait for an answer. The Fate looked out upon the sea again, her own heart heavy after what she'd just refused to do. But not every request could be granted. She could not afford to make a habit of sparing lives out of sheer mercy, whenever she wanted to. That would be an unfair imposition on Atropos, presumption of more power than Clotho was rightfully due. This much she knew.

The boy today had been saved for a greater purpose. That made it worth it. And the circumstances had demanded it. But his salvation had to be the rare exception, not the rule...

"I am sorry for not saying thank you."

Clotho nearly jumped in surprise. Apparently, these islanders often couldn't be bothered with the courtesy of a simple introduction, before interrupting.

This time, it was the very subject of her thoughts who'd interrupted them: the boy with springtime-colored eyes. She replied with a tense smile, remembering the shadows that she'd seen behind those eyes this very morning. "Oh, it's fine. You really don't have to."

"It's just that I'm afraid," the boy went on, standing beside her where she sat upon the shore, his clear blue gaze fixed on the twilit waves.

The Fate canted her head in concern. "Afraid of what?"

"Of life."

She blinked, feeling her heavy heart sink. "Why?"

The child shrugged, his voice as even as the motion of his shoulders, carrying the weight and wisdom of a man much older. "I don't know. I just felt that it was my turn to go. And now I'm here and have to face tomorrow. I have time, all this time to live my life, but it... it isn't mine."

And at those words, in that instant, Clotho lost all sense of certainty that what she'd done was right.

"I guess I should say thank you anyway; Mother told me so," the child reflected out loud. "At least she is happy about this. Maybe that makes it all worth it."

Maybe it did. Maybe it didn't. The Fate stayed still, silent. She had felt that the grateful rapture of a mother was worth everything, having witnessed it this morning. But now...

"May I just ask you something?" the boy inquired, proceeding after Clotho's head bobbed in a wordless nod. "If I had been conscious, yesterday, and asked you not to save my life - would you have saved it still?"

The answer should've been clear. She wished it were. But somehow it was not, to her. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to know if the gods care at all, about what we want," the child stated simply. "If we ever have a choice. If there is such a thing as free will."

The words struck her in ways that she was not prepared to handle. So she answered in the only way that she was able, in this moment: with a lie that weighed a ton upon her tongue. At least it was consistent with the role that she'd assumed, upon this isle. "I... I wouldn't know. I'm just a mortal vessel of their powers."

The child weighed the lie in his mind for a while. Almost as if he knew. "That's true," he granted at length. "Sorry for asking you."

Clotho didn't want him to regret a thing. Not today. Not in all his life, the life that she'd restored to him. Whether or not he'd wanted it. "Don't be; I understand..."

The boy turned on his heel to leave. "I don't think you can."

And the Fate stayed at the shoreline, still and silent as night fell across the island. The fine line between right and wrong ever shifting, disappearing, like the shadow of the tide upon the sand.

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Any thoughts about the boy? How would you feel/what would you do, in Clotho's shoes? :/

Next scene, we'll check in with Charliese and Trevor in modern-day Athens...

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