The walls of the room seemed to bend in, bowing in grey reverence to welcome the new guest. Ever felt Zoe’s hand tighten in his; he squeezed back. Together, they watched Nyx’s other daughters make their way in.

  Ever frowned. Mother did say ‘daughters’, didn't she? So why was it that only one figure made her slow but purposeful way towards them? His eyes flickered to Nyx, who was also watching her progeny with a silent veneration as well.

  Much like their mother, the Moirai wore long, flowing fabrics that seemed to shift and ripple all on their own instead of outlining the shape of her body as she walked. Ever remembered one time a group of nuns visiting the ice cream shop one fall day. They tittered and spoke animatedly, basking in the attention of the young, male, ice cream scooper who was fascinated with what they wore.

  Habit, Ever mouthed, eyeing the robes of Nyx’s daughter, now mere feet away: her clothes reminded him of a nun’s habit. It lacked the cincture though, which was a simple belt around the waist. She did have a head piece, not dissimilar to the nuns' head piece, but there was one, distinct difference: a veil fell from the forehead and obscured her face.

  His gaze was drawn towards a thin, wooden spindle, held in the crook of her arm, upon which a milky yarn wound tight pulsed gently. She stopped by her mother’s side, head slightly bowed, hands clasped in front as if in supplication.

  “Daughters,” Nyx said. “I appreciate you coming.”

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  Initially, she said nothing. Slowly, she raised her head. Ever felt Zoe’s hand squeeze his again, her anxiety permeating his skin. He glanced up; the room lights were on if somewhat muted, so how was it that they were seemingly encapsulated in shadow?

  “The pleasure is ours, Mother.”

  Zoe let out an audible gasp at her voice, which was not of one woman, but three: two younger, one older. They all spoke in unnervingly perfect unison.

  “As you can probably hear,” Nyx said, looking from her daughter to Ever and Zoe, “the Moirai is actually three, separate beings: Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. However, they don’t mind being addressed as a singular entity as this is how they outwardly appear. You might have seen references of her in your human popular culture as the Fates.”

  “Only what I saw on Disney’s Hercules,” Zoe said quietly. “They share a single eye.”

  Even under her voluminous, dark robes, Ever could see that the Moirai visibly stiffened.

  Nyx smiled amiably. “I can assure you that under her veil, she has more than one eye.” This made Zoe squeeze Ever’s hand again, even tighter than before.

  “At my insistence, the Moirai have agreed to share with you some information about your point here at the Cusp and what to expect beyond it.”

  “The Cusp of what?” Zoe said, frowning slightly.

  Nyx looked towards her daughters, who turned her head and gave the slightest of nods.

  “The Cusp of becoming a goddess.”