Prologue
The greatest oak was once a little nut who held its ground. ~Author Unknown
She was one of the ancient ones, last of the Guardians. Her order was a strict one that put the lives of others before her own, sometimes she was even forced to put others before her own soul, which was why she was the last of her kind; her bothers and sisters dead and damned. There was no glory, no light in what she did, but she was sworn to it and had been sworn for many a millennia. The Guardians had been servants of the Fates since the beginning of time. They were to offer other paths when the Fates were board, or they were to make sure that the chosen path was followed. The first were so named the Frays (as they offered the opportunity for the thread in the tapestry that the Fates sewed to fray and find another ending) and the latter were called the Chains (as they chained their victims to their already written fate). She had the misfortune of being a Fray as their lives usually ended bloody and their souls damned.
She took another swig of the whisky that had been her friend for most of the night. Her new assignment was coming up, and she knew that, gratefully, this one would be her last one. Her head was pounding as it usually did when she was about to receive a vision with her orders attached. She wished the old bags would get with the twenty first century and pick up a damn cell phone. One hand pressed to her pounding head, her vision began blur, the whisky slipped from her other hand and crashed, unnoticed, on the floor. The vision's full sway on her now.
An old, run down motel room flashed before her eyes. There were two beds that looked as though they had yet to be slept in. Two green army style duffel bags were thrown in a chair and several empty beers were laid out on a small table. Stains painted the room and gave it a rather bad modern art feel; certainly not a place she would ever willing stay. The vision turned and focused on the door as it burst opened and a man holding what looked to be an angel in his arms came through. Putting aside the irony of the situation, she had to blink a couple of times to make sure of what she was seeing. It was true that nothing could hide its true visage from her, but one doesn't see a guy carry an angel in his arms every day. When the man laid the angel on the bed with great care, she could see that it was badly wounded, and what was even more interesting was that it didn't seem to be able to heal itself. Curious that this angel should be falling and that this man, marked with the Hand of God, should be so desperate to help it, to save it. The vision of the man and angel vanished to be replaced with the neon sign of a roadside motel.
Go…Go to this place. Save the angel if the marked one so wishes it. Then guide the three to a different path if they will let you. Remember you are only another door that they may choose to open. Keep the three alive and safe until they open the doorway to their destinies. Guard the three with all you possesses. Failure is not an opinion. Go do your duty by us. Fulfill your OATH! GO! Cried the voices of the Fates from within her.
She gasped for breath as the vision released her, came to her feet, walked past the broken bottle, grabbed her bag, and began to pack for her last journey. She had to leave soon if she wanted to make it there in time. No thought was given as to whether to obey the order or not. She was sworn and bound to their word, a pawn piece in their great game, but it was finally the last order that she had to obey.