Myzrienne was not nervous in the slightest. She had conducted fate-binding ceremonies in the past. She gazed at the vaulted ceiling, admiring the bright crystal veins flowing within the dark stone, transporting the moon’s luminous light to the darkest reaches of Xolvareth.

She looked over the assembly. The high priestesses and matrons of each noble house were present, save one. Seralyth Verrakir of House Verrakir, the leading noble house, was absent. She was in the throes of labor, giving birth to a fourth daughter. Myzrienne Verrakir was acting in her mother’s place. She stood behind the dark purple curtain suspended from the ceiling and watched as the guests filed in. The only sound was the slap of their bare feet on cold stone. Inside the moonwell chamber, absolute silence was required. The doors would be secured before the ceremony to prevent outside interruptions.

Tonight, they were gathered to bind the fate of a daughter from House Szin’Talor. Such bindings were rare, but not unheard of. Myzrienne smirked; she could especially understand a house of assassins wanting to bind a bastard child to ensure the purity of the line. Regardless of her opinions of Ssaeral, she would have to focus. Matters dealing with fate required absolute perfection in every aspect of speech and movement. The slightest misstep or mispronunciation could have catastrophic consequences.

She shifted her attention back to the Moonwell. Odd that at such a moment she should dwell on such trivialities. There were more important matters at hand. She walked to the Moonwell, gazing into its depths at the hundreds, if not thousands, of fate threads being reflected in its moonlit water. She waited for it to acknowledge her. This evening, she would focus on just one of those thousands. A shadow passed briefly below the Moonwell’s surface. She stepped backward and into Saereth Vael, the Thread-Weaver chosen to assist her.

What was that‽

Saereth instinctively reached out and steadied the high priestess. Suddenly aware of the inappropriate contact, she jerked her hand away, keeping her head bowed. She remained silent, head and eyes down, awaiting Myzrienne’s wrath.

But Myzrienne’s thoughts were on the Moonwell. What had she just seen? She turned the resonance crystal over and over in her hand as she glanced about the chamber to see if anyone else had noticed. “We should delay the fate-binding.”

“It has already been delayed to coincide with this lunar cycle, Zhaeressa.” Saereth was careful to use the honorific title of high priestess instead of Matron, in hopes of easing the transgression of touching a high priestess without permission.

Myzrienne didn’t appear to notice, or didn’t care. Her attention was fixed on the Moonwell and the crystal web. Everything appeared as before, and yet it wasn’t. She straightened, standing slightly taller than the slim woman chosen to assist her and act as the witness anchor for the fate-binding, and took her place to await the arrival of the one to be bound.

Seralyth’s contractions were becoming stronger. The house midwives and house priestesses gathered around her. The senior among them wiped Seralyth’s forehead with a damp cloth. “It is a good omen, giving birth to a daughter on our holiest of days.” Seralyth didn’t respond; she only inhaled deeply before the next contraction wracked her body.

The house weapons master, Xharion, and Alakorvir, as Archivist of Hidden Weaves, waited outside, ensuring the room remained secure. Males were strictly forbidden from being present when a female gave birth, being considered lesser in social stature and having already performed their function.

Seralyth caught her breath after the contraction passed. She relaxed, let her head fall back on the thick purple pillow, and looked at the ceiling, staring at the veins of crystal that passed through it, illuminating the room with pale-silver moonlight. For a moment, the light flickered, grew briefly brighter, and then returned to its normal intensity. The priestesses present were silent for a moment, but Seralyth’s next contraction came and demanded their immediate attention, and they quickly forgot the change.

Myzrienne stood before the young Nethyrean woman and stared into her white-and-purple eyes. She looked her over from top to bottom. Her black hair was secured back with a silver spider clasp. She wore the traditional robe of her house, black with purple spider silk fringe. She didn’t have to look to know that the back was emblazoned with the likeness of the goddess Vharzhelra, a large obsidian spider with twelve purple, glowing eyes, but in place of a stinger was a dagger dripping with venom. House Szin’Talor was known as the house of assassins. Myzrienne began a low hum, and the girl held forth her own small resonance crystal. Myzrienne continued humming, slightly changing pitch until she found and matched the stone’s frequency. She took several steps back toward the moonwell, touched a piece of the exposed crystal lattice, and began a prayer in the tone matching that of the stone. The web responded with the appropriate baseline tone. She had found the correct thread.

She extended her arms, palms turned upward, and as she spoke, her voice became songlike. “Ssaeral Szin’Talor is what you are called, but not how you are known to the crystal web. Come forth and be recognized as you are known.”

The other priestesses in attendance stood and formed a circle around the girl, escorting her before the high priestess. As she approached, the crystal lattice brightened, recognizing her.

The binding constraint had to be spoken perfectly, or it could fail. Worse, it could increase tension in the web, causing it to recoil. Myzrienne lowered her eyes, staring into the moonwell, and continued, choosing her words, tone, and cadence carefully, precisely matching the crystal’s frequency.

“Let all paths that lead to betrayal of your house…” The crystal lattice suddenly darkened, as a shadow again passed through the Moonwell, reflected not from above but from below. Myzrienne’s eyes widened, but she forced herself to focus and continue, “…lose weight and fail to carry.” For the first time in her life, she was unsure of herself. Had her hesitation been enough to invalidate the fate-binding? What had passed through the moonwell?

“I willingly accept the predetermined path I must walk. I alone will pay the price.” Ssaeral spoke the words, unaware that anything unexpected had happened.

Myzrienne quickly glanced at the assembled priestesses, but if they had noticed the shadow, none reacted. She stepped toward the Moonwell, dipped her finger in the water, then drew a circle intersected by a vertical line on Ssaeral’s forehead.

“Fate is bound. Let all deviations fail to resolve,” she sang.

Threads began extending from the crystal lattice toward the glyph on Ssaeral’s forehead. Until close enough that the glyph glowed with the same color and intensity as the lattice. Then the threads receded. This was the expected reaction to a successful fate-binding, so Myzrienne relaxed slightly.

“The past was, the present remains, the future cannot unmake what has been.” Saereth sang in the same pitch as the resonance stone. As she did, Myzrienne watched the waters of the moonwell closely. It and the lattice were beginning to brighten again. She could see fate threads reflected in the waters. They drifted and wrapped around each other. It was a familiar sight to her. Except…a lone, bright silver fate thread was rising slowly toward the moonwell’s surface, slipping through and past the other threads.

“What has been done is. The improbable is still possible. What is likely is most probable. The web holds. Vharzhelra, let it continue.” Myzrienne delivered the closing prayer pitch-perfect, as she had done at least a dozen times before. Both the lattice and moonwell had resumed their usual intensity.


In House Verrakir, Seralyth had just given birth to her fourth daughter. The infant’s skin was paler than most Nethyrae, and there were already small tufts of matted platinum-blonde hair. As the midwife handed the girl to her mother, the child began to cry.

“Nedythra.”

The infant opened its unseeing eyes. Light silver tears began streaming down its cheeks. For a moment, they all saw faint, silver lunar shimmers pulsing in the child’s violet eyes. Then, they were gone. Seralyth held the girl at arm’s length, regarding her carefully before finally taking her to her breast then she addressed those attending to her. “Under penalty of death, you are never to speak a word of what you just witnessed.”