Hello everyone.

Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but my computer went through a couple of major harddrive crashes and I just got it back this week.

I had fun writing this chapter, as it gives more history of the immortal realm, plus after this chapter things will start to move along at a good pace.

Feedback is always appreciated.

Enjoy and thanks for reading.

It was a place of mystery, where destinies were woven and conceived as each fragile life was formed. Mortal eyes could never hope to gaze upon this realm, for it contained a wealth of impressions and sensations too numerous for them to catalogue. Immortals could gaze upon the chaos, had the eyes to see the awful glory of this cavern where the tapestry of all worlds rested. Yet even they dared not linger long, for the fabric of destiny was an awesome thing to behold, even for a deity; because it challenged them to gaze without fear upon the myriad possibilities and paths the tapestry foretold.

Only Jupiter could walk this realm with ease, for of all the gods he alone possessed the power and strength of will to comprehend glimpses of the mysterious force of destiny. Even so he knew that none could discern the complex flow of past present and future with the ease of these ancient goddesses.

The first had the look of a maiden, innocent, full of the joy of creativity and the quiet strength only hope could bestow. With a skill which any mortal weaver would envy, she expertly spun the life threads of each being as it was born, before surrendering them into her sister's keeping.

The second sister bent to her work with confident unhurried movements. In her face rested the knowledge of all that a mortal life could hold. Every facet of humanity and its struggles and triumphs was known to her, and she gave a portion of each to a mortal life as her foreknowledge directed.

The third sister's form was shrouded in shadow and mystery, for she represented the final journey all mortal creatures must take. To her was appointed the task of severing each thread when its owner had fulfilled his destiny, a duty she carried out with an air of calm efficiency. None but the gods could gaze on her true form, and even then only the strongest amongst them could meet her gaze for no more than a few tense moments. For she represented the one thing which immortals could not comprehend, an ancient truth of the universe which they were always thankful to have been spared from knowing.

She was Atropos, known and feared throughout the mortal world as the one who severed the thread of life, in many ways the most powerful of the Moirae.

The three sisters acknowledged Jupiter's presence with a respectful inclination of the head, never pausing in their work as he stepped forward to offer the expected greeting. Even he could not command the Moirae, for they were beings who had existed since the dawn of the world.

So he addressed them with the respect they deserved, casting off for a moment the mantle of king to answer their summons.

"I come at your bidding, drawn by the invocation of divine flame and the tie of blood to the house of Agenor.

At the request of Semele I seek your permission to look at the tapestry of worlds, to search out her thread and discern the path of her destiny."

The sisters turned as one, each meeting the gaze of the son of Saturn with a look of deep and intense scrutiny which weighed and judged his words.

Clotho answered first.

"We will hear your request king of gods, and acknowledge the ties of kinship and divine flame which have brought you to our realm."

Lachesis continued. "We have called you here in accordance with immortal law, because the thread of Cadmus's firstborn is even now being woven with your own."

Atropos expertly cut a brittle thread before finishing the thoughts of her sisters. "Even if she had not sought your aid, still we would have requested your presence because your threads are being woven into an extraordinary pattern. Not since the dawn of the universe have I seen such unusual and intriguing possibilities spread out before my sight.

So look your fill ruler of the skies, and make your judgment according to what you see.

But take care with what you read, for what you see are only possible roads for this mortal and you to travel. One decision made in haste could alter the balance of power significantly if you make the wrong choice"

Jupiter nodded in acceptance of the eldest sister's words, before bending over the tapestry to seek out the distinctive threads of the house of Cadmus. He found Semele's thread immediately, and so closely was it woven with Ino's that it seemed as if their threads were one.

Ino's thread was not as strong as her sisters, yet it possessed colors which indicated her gift of foresight and unshakable loyalty as well as her gentle nature.

Semele's told quite a different tale. Strength, passion and pride were traits he glimpsed at once, along with fierce loyalty to Ino and a thirst for knowledge and power. Eagerly he gazed at the thread, a part of his mind noting how many other destinies she had influenced or slightly altered by a casual comment or cutting observation. As a princess, this was hardly unexpected, for the lives of those born to royalty often became bound however briefly with the destinies of noble and peasant alike.

He cast his senses out further, pouring his power into the search which would answer the question of whether this fiery girl was meant for Beotia's prince.

And the answer he received filled him with a mixture of shock and something which was almost like triumph.

Semele was destined to become his consort. Curiosity became excitement as he bent closer, eyes intent upon the story this delicate thread had to tell. She was destined for greatness, and her name would be remembered and spoken of by mortal bards many ages hence. Death was also present, an end in which triumph and fear shared equal parts.

Here the tale ended, for that part of the story had not yet been woven, perhaps could not be shown until a specific path was chosen.

Sensing his thoughts, Lachesis turned to face him, eyes knowing and mysterious as they met his own questioning gaze.

"Here is the choice my sister spoke of, one which will shape more than your own existence and that of Cadmus's eldest child.

My sisters and I cannot know what will come, until a certain request is made of you by Thebes' princess. Even now, I await one event before continuing my work."

And as if she had heard Lachesis's words, Semele's voice filled the realm of destiny.

Jupiter often thought afterwards that it was like her voice, and yet it was not. For no mortal throat could hope to produce syllables of such raw elemental power, nor capture so perfectly scattered notes of the music of storm, wind and fire.

At once Lachesis resumed her work with an air of barely suppressed excitement, even Atropos looked interested as she severed the thread of a mortal child released at last from the torment of slow starvation.

It was Clotho who voiced Jupiter's suspicions, in a voice filled with awe and astonishment.

"Lachesis, she has spoken a word of calling. Never did I expect to hear one spoken, especially by a mortal maiden."

Jupiter gazed at Semele's thread in admiration, scarcely able to believe what he had just heard.

He like Clotho had known of this ancient secret, of all on Olympus only he had been chosen by the Moirae to keep safe the knowledge of those words which could change the course of destiny. They were one of the deepest secrets of the immortal realm, kept by the Moirae, woven at the heart of the tapestry of all worlds. These sacred words had a long and complex history, but were formed from the truth that though they governed mortals, gods and goddesses alike drew power from their worshipers and the sacrifices offered at their temples.

Still more significant was the power which rested in the many names a deity possessed. Even in the immortal realm, many thought that the titles mortals knew and spoke with varying degrees of reverence were but reflections of their power and glory. That belief was based on a phrase minor immortals spoke in ignorance, unaware of its true significance.

Names have power.

A part from the Moirae, he alone knew the power which even the smallest of titles possessed, for it was connected to the secret which they had charged him to guard from all his divine brethren. Each sister had commanded him to swear upon the sacred waters of the Styx that he would speak of this knowledge to no one. When he had questioned their order, the youngest had sternly explained that he alone had the power and command of all elements necessary for guarding the weight of this knowledge.

So he had given his oath, and learned that amongst the fragile titles mortals offered up in prayers lay the words which called to the very essence of a deity. And that when one of those words was spoken, a god or goddess had the right according to immortal law to answer the one who called.

It was a right not based upon any prayers, or need for power, but the fact that the speaker had possessed the strength of will and soul to discover and secretly voice in his thoughts a word which called to a god's power. It could only be spoken by one who was willing to sacrifice much, in order to be given glimpses of the immortal realm.

And few there were among the race of men willing to pay that price.

Yet this descendent of mortal and immortal blood, had spoken the one that called to his divinity alone. All within him that was tempest and lightning, passion and magnificence rose up in response to that word uttered in the secret places of a mortal's soul. What had granted her this knowledge he did not know, but he was obligated to answer her call according to the secret he had learned from the Moirae centuries ago.

Deeper words existed which expressed other aspects of his essence, but Semele had spoken the first of the three most powerful.

Turning away from the tapestry he addressed the three sisters, offering them thanks for their advice and the chance to examine their work.

And as he returned to his throne on Olympus, the image of a slender maiden with raven hair held sway over his thoughts. This marriage he decided, would not take place, for who could deny the will of the three sisters of destiny.

So he reasoned, and so he answered with a note of implacable command in his voice when his queen requested his final judgment. And she could do nothing but bow to his decision, before sweeping from the throne room with icy calm. For once he had spoken, not even his queen dared to challenge his decision.

He would claim Semele, and hope that he had made a choice which the Moirae would see fit to honor.

Effortlessly he called his power forth, assuming the shape of his sacred bird the eagle. Taking flight from Olympus he descended to the mortal world, keen eyes seeking out the city of Thebes and the temple to his consort Juno.

There.

Instincts of eagle and god became one in that timeless second as he circled the magnificent building, and he knew what he would do to keep the princess's thread bound with his own. To share even the smallest glimpse of power with a mortal was a dangerous path to walk, one which inevitably ended in death. But he would not take that road; only reveal enough so that the outcome he hoped for would come to pass.

To allay the fears of Cadmus and his court, he would let all see an outward sign of his favor rest upon Semele, so that they would know she was blessed by the gods.

He let the proclamation fill him, tasted the sweet glory of the words as they lingered for an instant in his essence until he spoke them in one long triumphant cry which shook the heavens.

"Semele I am coming."