"The war of the gods is foretold," Astraea murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow as she regained composure. "To survive this coming storm, Mother foresaw my father's alliance with Crius."
"This conflict is unlike any before," she continued gravely. "There is a scent of doom upon it—a perilous omen. I fear even those bound to the primal forces may fall."
Tyche's expression darkened, her tone hushed with unease. "Such a fate has never been recorded. What course does Lady Phoebe intend to take?"
Astraea gave a bitter smile. "She seeks salvation in birth. My far-sighted mother glimpsed that from the union of destruction and darkness shall arise a mighty deity."
At these words, Tyche's soul trembled. Through the threads of fate, she beheld a vision—a triple-formed goddess, bearing torch and serpent, heralded by the very laws of existence themselves. Dominion thronged around her, yearning for her arrival.
Her hand flew instinctively to the trembling ruby pendant at her throat. With great effort, she steadied the surging magic web within her, concealing its unrest from Astraea's keen eyes. Magic whispered through its fractured strands, reaching hungrily beyond the world into the Chaos Sea, drawing strength to complete itself, to evolve.
Beyond the temple walls, violent elemental storms swirled about the island, drawing the attention of the divine. Tyche inwardly cursed but swiftly calmed herself, weaving mist with her dominion over fate to obscure the disturbance. Astraea turned toward her, sensing the unseen force at play.
"My wise friend," she mused, "have you too glimpsed the edges of destiny?"
A long silence stretched between them before Tyche finally spoke. "Your daughter shall rise as a goddess second only to the two primordial mothers. Even the King of Gods shall bow before her."
Astraea fell into thought, then asked softly, "Goddess of Fate's Choice—grant me your counsel. Is there truly no other path?"
Tyche remained still, her gaze lowered.
"I see," Astraea said at last, a lightness returning to her voice. "The three weavers have spun the same thread. Perhaps this is indeed the best course."
Wordlessly, Tyche embraced her dearest friend, her heart heavy with unspoken comfort. But Astraea only laughed gently, patting Tyche's back with tender reassurance.
"Do not grieve for me, dear one."
"After all, I do not despise Perses. He will respect me for my power. Perhaps it is time I embraced the pleasures of love."
Stunned by such bold words, Tyche could only stare in disbelief. Astraea, ever amused by her friend's innocence, smirked knowingly.
"You need not bind yourself to another, Tyche, but that need not deny you joy. How else shall you endure eternity? Eros dwells within us all. To suppress desire is to invite ruin."
With that thunderous truth left hanging, the Starry Night Goddess turned and departed, taking with her a vial of Tyche's newest perfume and a pouch of enchanted cosmetics.
Still reeling, Tyche watched her go, rooted to the spot until two attendants arrived with news of Tethys' summons.
"Your Grace," they announced, "the goddess of the sea wishes to speak with you."
Snapping out of her daze, Tyche shook her head with wry amusement. "I understand. Leave us."
After Iris and Arke vanished into the woods, Tyche leapt into the stream, transforming into a mermaid as she dove beneath the waves, gliding swiftly toward the ocean depths.
An eerie stillness filled the underwater palace. The usual laughter of the sea nymphs had vanished. Tethys stood waiting anxiously at the temple entrance, and upon seeing her radiant daughter, rushed forward to seize her hands.
Puzzled by her mother's unusual urgency, Tyche quickly took her seat.
"Mother, where are my sisters?"
"I sent them back to Father," Tethys replied hastily. "You have taken up the mantle of fate? You are now one of the Moirae?"
Somewhat bewildered, Tyche answered, "I hold the domains of choice and opportunity—I suppose I am counted among the Fates now."
Tethys' face flickered with emotion—pride, worry, and something deeper—before settling on warmth.
"My dearest child, how proud I am of you. Yet tread carefully. The power of fate is both magnificent and perilous—it may wound you as easily as it guides."
Understanding dawned upon Tyche. The magic web's unrest had drawn the attention of the elder gods, and many believed fate itself was the source of the recent disturbances.
"Beloved Mother, do not fret—I did suffer some backlash from peering too deeply into destiny, but nothing irreparable."
Still, Tethys could not hide her concern. "Though the Fates stand above many, they are also hunted. Every god seeks to know what lies ahead, to escape their own doom. You will find no peace now."
She hesitated, then added, "And my mad brother—do not be surprised if he comes seeking your insight. Once entangled, there may be no escape."
Tyche exhaled slowly, realization settling in. This must be why Phoebe had chosen to wed Astraea to Perses, destroyer and breaker of fates. The birth of a new deity was merely an unexpected boon. Three mighty goddesses and two lesser ones would deter most foes. And Perses' martial prowess made him formidable—some Titans themselves feared his wrath.
So among the Fates, who now seemed most vulnerable?
Thoughts racing, Tyche smiled gently to soothe her anxious mother. "Dearest Mother, though the King of Gods may covet my dominion over fate, he would not act recklessly—never so as to drive the Fates entirely against him."
"Phoebe, seer of prophecy, stands with me in alliance, and Astraea, goddess of stars, is my dearest friend. Together, even the god-king would fear the wrath of destiny."
Relief softened Tethys' worry. "Then the gods of the sea shall stand by you. Even my mad brother shall not dare lay a hand upon my daughter."
Tyche adjusted the folds of her ivory gown with a knowing smile. "As for what the King desires—I may yet grant it, should he offer something worthy in return."
Her eyes gleamed with quiet cunning. "The essence and dominion of the sky, for instance... that might sway me."
Tethys ran a hand through her daughter's chestnut tresses, nodding thoughtfully. "Not an impossibility. Uranus longs to return to the earth and take vengeance upon Cronus, and neither the Titans nor Gaia would suffer his cruel reign again."
"Your command over climate grants you the means to claim the heavens. And unlike the others—you are a goddess."
She lovingly tidied Tyche's flowing locks, pride shining in her gaze. "Our power-hungry king will weigh such a bargain carefully."
At last, Tethys embraced her brave and clever daughter. "Oh, my child—you may yet be the first of the second-generation Titans to ascend to greater divinity!"
Outwardly composed, inwardly burdened, Tyche bore her mother's joy in silence. In truth, the threat from Cronus was ever-present. Should the Titan King insist on glimpsing fate's veil, even the two oceanic Titans could do little but submit. Rebellion was unthinkable—what of their countless children dwelling in rivers and lakes? Would they be sacrificed for defiance?
Even Phoebe's support, though valuable as a deterrent, would likely extend no further than mere caution. If Tyche withdrew from the game, it would be she and her mother left to face the storm alone—and Phoebe, ever prudent, would likely remain a passive spectator.
No. Better to strike first—to barter what Cronus desired in exchange for the dominion she sought.
Though her mind whirled with schemes, her expression remained serene. As she helped Tethys adorn herself with the perfumes and powders she had brought, the elder goddess brightened considerably, happily experimenting with the new shades upon her cheeks.
Suddenly, she shifted topics. "And what of Astraea's impending union with Perses?"
She turned to Tyche with sudden intent. "My dear, your cousin by Eurynome's son—have you no thoughts of marriage yourself?"
Caught off guard by the abrupt turn, Tyche hesitated. Before she could recover, Tethys clasped her hands with maternal urgency.
"My radiant sister Theia has sent word more than once—she holds great admiration for you."
Shaking her head vehemently, Tyche replied, "Mother, I have no wish to become any god's wife! My dealings with Helios were merely an exchange of essences—there was no affection between us."
A sigh escaped Tethys' lips, tinged with disappointment. "Theia has even offered to share the throne with you. When you and Helios ascend, she and Hyperion would pass the seat of sovereignty to you both."
The twelve primordial Titans held dominion second only to the primordials themselves—a gift beyond measure. Such a position came not only with power, but with the favor of the primal forces. At the thought, Tyche felt a flicker of temptation, quickly smothered.
"I have already told Theia," she said firmly, "what I desire, I shall obtain myself."
With no choice but to play the game, she must prepare her moves well. Considering her stance in the coming war, she mused aloud, "I have the strength to protect myself. Once I claim the dominion of the skies, I shall begin my ascent to greater divinity—the primal forces will shield me then."
Pleased, Tethys nodded approvingly. "Do not rush. Your dominion over currents and the water cycle still holds untapped potential."
Then, with renewed enthusiasm, she resumed her matchmaking. "What of Prometheus? You took notice of him when you first met—he intrigued you enough to ask about him specifically."
A chill ran down Tyche's spine. Her head shook furiously. "He is the son of my sister Clymene—we cannot be together!"
Tethys mistook her daughter's reaction for foresight into some grim fate. Unfazed, she sighed again. "There are few among the second generation who could match you. The sun's domain complements your command over climate, and Prometheus' wisdom pairs well with yours."
She studied Tyche with growing suspicion. "Why, my daughter, do you resist the company of gods so fiercely?"
Thinking fast, Tyche seized upon the one explanation none could refute. She lowered her voice, cloaking her words in mystery. "I have seen their fates."
A shadow passed over her sapphire eyes. "The cold of my winter cannot endure the sun's fire. A wise seer, blessed with foresight, is doomed to pay dearly for seeing too much."