When I look back I can see the strands of all creation beginning as fibers spun from pure Chaos. When I look forward I can see those strands fray into oblivion once again. Only Hun-Dun knows what was before and what will be after.
Sometimes I weave with spinner’s hands. Sometimes I become the spider and spin the silk of the tapestry of time with aspects of my own ichorial essence. I only touch my strands though, never the strands that came before. They are a snarl of bindings and gaps that hold the fragile universe together. It’s ugly, but it works. My strands have more finesse, more color, and a hell-of-a-lot more creativity but I can see them beginning to tatter at the edges. Reality is coming undone.
There were three Fates before me. They attempted to make sense and balance this mess of creation. They worked on it for thousands of years. I can see where they prevented Ragnarök several times before. They weren’t artists like me, they were engineers. They were brilliant women who made Atlas’ job seem simple. And then my father killed one. Lachesis. They arranged it so that he would. They placed the spindle into Tesla’s hands knowing where it would end up and what would happen. The other two died shortly after the first. They made sure that I would eventually come to possess the spindle, and that my life’s thread would be bound onto it. I assumed this position against my will. But I see now the importance of my role in things.
I have advisers to help me in this task. The Three that came before arranged that I would not do this task alone. Prometheus and Loki. My parents don’t trust them. They tell me that they’ve been around longer than I have, that I don’t know everything. Maybe not, but I’ve had my own adventures, and now… I can see things more clearly than my father, or his father before him. I can see all of creation laid bare before me.
Uncle Harlan visits as often as he can to keep an eye on his father and prevent him from “screwing up reality.” Both he and his father will play pivotal roles in things before I’m done here. Their stories were written long ago. Most of my job was done for me in early eons, but I can still influence things. And before the end I’ll add my own flair to this cosmic rug that is creation. It’ll be a masterpiece.
My name is Atropos Esparza and I am the last of the Fates.
It is I who shall unmake existence.
I am the Final Fate of this story.
And this is how that story began…