AN: This story is crossposted at AO3. More than likely, I'll update there first there when I have a new chapter.

STEP ONE – Unforeseen Meetings

''An unexpected situation could well lead to a 'divine appointment'. Any 'divine appointment' will bring divine blessing.'' - Unknown

It could have been a second or an eternity, Rosemary wasn't sure, the amount of time she had remained in the silent dark. As Sirius had told her, dying was painless and effortless; she could even go so far as to say that she was feeling great at the moment. In fact, Rosemary couldn't recall ever feeling so good before. Was it because she was dead? Was it because her life mission was finally accomplished? Or it was due to something else altogether? She wondered to herself as she gradually recovered her senses as if slowly emerging from deep underwater.

Vision still dark and body unable to move even an inch, the first thing she was able to piece together was that she wasn't alone, wherever she was. For a painful moment, she felt like she was back with Hermione and Ron at Hogwarts. There was a definitely female voice currently trying its best to nag and scream someone else to death, Rosemary was sure of it, even though she wasn't able to understand a word, just like 'Mione used to, any time Ron was his idiotic and/or lazy self or when he and Rosemary did another of their stupid stunts. She had never thought she would miss her best friend's common scolding speeches so badly.

The other party, however, seemed to pay as much mind to the unknown woman's ranting as her redheaded friend usually did – that is to say, not much. After a while, Rosemary figured the other person in the 'room' was a male and appeared as laidback and carefree as Ronald Weasley, if the man's lazy tone was any indication.

After a few more seconds, the young witch was finally able to understand the words exchanged between the unknown pair. For the time being, she decided to pretend to remain unconscious until she had a better understanding of her current situation.

''… foolish girl!'' It was said by the strange woman in a very annoyed tone. That was the first thing Rosemary heard clearly and somehow she had the impression that was directed at the Girl-Who-lived herself. ''Of all the idiotic, reckless, brainless, -''

''Now, now,'' the unknown male cut off the tirade in an appeasing tone before it gained too much steam. ''She was only doing what she believed was the best for everyone involved. You can't really blame her for trying to save the people she loves.''

Yep, they're talking about me, alright, Rosemary thought with certainty, even as she felt amazed in the back of her mind for feeling so uncaring of the fact that she was dead in an unfamiliar place with unknown people. Though, I don't understand what's really going on, they don't appear very happy that I let Voldemort kill me.

''Still,'' the woman replied, still annoyed and unrelenting, ''she should be more aware of the grave consequences of her actions. The amount of paperwork this stunt has just thrown away is unbelievable!''

''Ah, I get it now,'' the man said as he had just found the answers of the universe. ''You're this mad because of paperwork. For a moment there, I thought it was just you in your usual fool mood when you break up with your boyfriend. Again.''

''What did you say?'', the woman screeched, affronted. Her tone alone was threatening painful things to come.

It seemed that the man had just stepped on a dangerous landmine, Rosemary easily reckoned, mentally sweat dropping. They reminded her more and more of her two best friends' bickering as they spoke. Even the male's offhand callousness was eerily similar to Ron's.

The man cleared his throat loudly and forcefully. It appeared that he was well aware that he was too close to suffer at the hands of his companion and decided to swiftly change the subject.

He's not a complete idiot, after all, Rosemary thought with slight surprise. Usually, Ron would try Hermione's patience until the very end and end up hexed for his troubles.

''Anyway, what's done is done and we can't do anything to change it, so we might as well find a suitable solution for this unexpected situation,'' the male said evenly.

''That's easy for you to say, Mort,'' the woman shot back, exasperated, her earlier fury seemingly forgotten, ''I don't have hundreds of underlings like you. I have to do my own work.''

''You know, Moira, there is this thing called 'task delegation', you should try it some time,'' the male named Mort replied, the sarcasm thick and heavy. ''It's your damn fault that you have to do all your paperwork alone, if you're constantly firing your assistants.''

''How can I not?'', Moira demanded outraged. ''They are all incompetent, each and every one of them!''

''That's because you're a control freak and a perfectionist! No wonder Hades gets fed up with you time and time again,'' Mort commented thoughtlessly.

Uh, oh, such a stupid man, Rosemary nervously thought, when there was a loud, ominous snapping sound. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure that it wasn't anything good. She could practically feel the killing intent emanating from somewhere close by. It was utterly terrifying. She decided that it was for the best pretending that she was still unconscious and praying that she wouldn't become collateral damage. Frankly, she didn't care about 'Mort' one bit, after saying something like that, he had it coming.

''I'll kill you! This time, for sure, I'll absolutely kill you!'', the woman practically howled in rage.

''Good luck with that,'' it was the simple, nonchalant reply from Mort accompanied by a snort which showed his plain scepticism over the clear threat upon his person. Rosemary could practically see him buffing his fingernails without a care in the world as he said those words. Either the man was an utterly idiot of epic proportions or he was very confident in his survival skills against a woman's wrath.

There was silence for a few seconds, before Moira spoke up, this time much calmer. Her tone was suddenly smug and cheerful, shocking Rosemary with its sudden turnabout.

''I'll just ask Aphrodite for a favour then,'' the strange woman stated gleefully and confidently. ''There was that girl at that party last week…What was her name, again? Silvana or something, right? Didn't she confess to you?''

''What? No, you wouldn't!'' For the first time, Mort sounded alarmed; he didn't even try to hide it. ''Anything but that! That girl was a nightmare!''

''Oh, oh, really?'', Moira asked, her tone reminding Rosemary of a cat who had just caught a very juice canary. She could almost see the self-satisfied smirk accompanying those words. ''Do tell, dear brother.''

''There's nothing much to say,'' the man was quick to deny, but even Rosemary knew he was lying. ''She was like a rabid fangirl, that's all. She's not the first and unfortunately will not be the last.''

The woman hummed, clearly unconvinced.

''Well, if you don't want to suddenly get personally closer to that girl, I highly suggest that you mind your words, Mort,'' Moira threatened acutely. ''As of late, your infuriating attitude towards me is becoming insupportable and I won't stand for it any longer. Are we clear?''

''Crystal, my lovely sister,'' the man meekly replied.

''Good, good,'' she said in turn, pleased. ''Now, how long do you plan on feigning unconsciousness, Miss Potter?''

Rosemary flinched in surprise. It seemed that she had been found out eavesdropping. She opened her eyes, at last, and what she saw left her speechless.

She was in a large office-like room, decorated mainly in shades of white and cream, which she reckoned wouldn't be out of place for a big company CEO. She had been lounging in a comfortable white-leather armchair placed in front of a wide glass desk, which held mountains of paperwork, all neatly organized.

Behind the table sat a young-looking, black-haired woman, whose beauty easily rivalled the most beautiful people Rosemary had ever seen. Behind rectangular-rimmed glasses, her eyes were the colour of a cloudless blue sky and her skin as pale and smooth as a porcelain doll. Even with her dark, long hair tidied up in a severe bun (not unlike Professor McGonagall's) and wearing a simple dark blue business suit, Moira was utterly gorgeous. At the moment, she regarded the young witch evenly, one perfect eyebrow raised in question and lips pursed. She was the perfect image of a prim and proper business lady.

In turn, leaning against the edge of the desk, stood Mort. The expression 'tall, dark and handsome' fit the man to a T, Rosemary thought. He was a man who could have been easily a model in a GQ cover, with his black, slightly wavy, long hair, midnight black eyes, pale skin and perfect features and body. All this combined with a high quality grey business suit, black tie and pure white dress shirt, somehow gave him an otherworldly aura that left Rosemary absolutely speechless.

Who were these people? Such beauty and impressive presence could not possibly be human, not even high-class pureblood witches and wizards could ever be that remarkable. At least, none that she had ever met, she mentally added.

''Do you have any idea of the trouble you have just caused me, little girl?'', Moira asked, tone annoyed again, breaking Rosemary from her contemplative reverie. The woman's eyes stared directly into her own, as if they could see to the witch's very soul, though they weren't cold, thankfully.

''Trouble?'', Rosemary parroted, not knowing what else to say. Despite having heard the conversation these last few minutes, she still had no idea of what was going on; if anything, she felt even more confused than before. She had willingly died under Voldemort's deadly curse and she had thought that after that she would have been reunited with her deceased family members – which, clearly was not the case. ''Aren't I dead?''

Momentarily closing her eyes, Moira sighed deeply, her expression of one who was silently praying for divine patience. At her side, Mort crossed his arms in front of his chest and seemingly made himself more comfortable on his perch at the desk corner.

''Yes, you are dead, undoubtedly,'' the man finally said, when his sister didn't appear to speak anytime soon. His gaze was as impressive as Moira, as if he could discern a lie before it even left one's lips. ''What is the last thing you remember?''

Rosemary gathered her thoughts for a moment, deciding on the better way to answer. Somehow, she knew that they wouldn't be happy with the truth, regardless of how she said it.

''After I found out that Voldemort made me his Horcrux, I knew that I had to die at his hands in order to destroy it so someone else would finally be able to kill him once and for all,'' the young witch explained succinctly, surprised with herself for being able to say this without a shred of feeling. It was completely eerily.

''I see,'' Mort simply said, nodding, as if he had already expected that kind of answer.

''It would be all well and good that you readily sacrificed your life to save everyone else and help rid the world of the Dark Lord, however there's a problem in that action,'' Moira spoke up at last, tone surprisingly neutral. ''There was never a Horcrux inside you in the first place.''

Rosemary's breath caught at that. ''What…?'' Her mind blanked after that for a while, unable to assimilate the heavy significance and consequences of that statement.

''You were told – or rather someone made you come to this conclusion in a very roundabout way – that Voldemort had unknowingly made you one of his anchors to life and that the only way to destroy it was by allowing the Dark Lord to kill you personally, is that about right?'', the woman continued to explain. Rosemary silently nodded at the rhetoric question, still in shock. ''However, it was only by mere coincidence that Voldemort was the one to kill you, and not someone else, and with the Killing Curse at that. If you were truly a Horcrux and he tried to kill you with any other spell that would have never worked, I assure you. I know for a fact that Albus Dumbledore was never able to confirm if you indeed housed a Horcrux in your forehead, all he had was a great extent of guesswork and an unhealthy amount of confidence in his own intelligence and deduction skills. However, even if he had doubted for a second that he could be wrong – which, by the way, he never did –, he would never act on it, he was that kind of man. 'For the greater good' was his motto, right? He was ready to sacrifice anything and anyone to fulfil his plans, even after he was long dead. You should have a fair idea of what that man was like. You read Rita Skeeter's book about him some time ago, did you not? Shockingly, for once, everything she wrote was nothing more than the truth.''

'''The road to Hell is paved with the good intentions and well-meaning lies'. That expression fitted that man like a glove and couldn't be any truer,'' the handsome man casually commented, though the young witch barely paid him any mind.

''Are you saying that my allowing Voldemort to kill me was pointless?'', Rosemary asked in dread, jumping from her seat and pacing back and forth, finally erupting from the numbness of her shock, her mind working overtime to assimilate what she was being told. ''Are there any other Horcrux that I hadn't known about? I told Neville that, if he killed Nagini, Voldemort would be mortal once again and after that he could be easily destroyed by anyone. Oh, gods!...''

''Calm down,'' Mort reached out with one hand and upon touching her shoulder, the girl immediately quieted and relaxed as if by magic, which all things considered, it could have very well been. The man guided her back to her armchair, before standing at her side, instead of returning to his previous perch. ''Good news are that Voldemort has already been killed and he's currently on his way to enjoy a very long stay in the deepest pits of Hell,'' the man announced cheerfully.

Despite her new feelings of both disillusionment and betrayal towards Dumbledore, Rosemary immediately brightened up at that excellent news. Regardless of what happened to her, Voldemort's death and the freedom of the wizarding world were the most important things that she could have ever hoped for. She knew that her friends loved her dearly and would grieve her death but she was sure they would eventually move on and enjoy their lives free of Voldemort's oppression.

''In fact, I took it upon myself to do it personally. I so enjoyed his reaction when he first saw me,'' the man added in the same happy tone, which somehow didn't match up with his dark appearance, his eyes glazing over momentarily as if recalling a very good memory.

''Do you mean, you're…?'' Rosemary feebly asked, after swallowing uneasily, her previous happy mood plummeting. She had had already suspected that it was the case but she really hadn't wanted to believe it. After all, no matter what some people may have said, Rosemary Potter wasn't stupid and she wasn't someone who usually indulged in denial when reality got harsh, either.

''Oh, how rude of us!'' the man exclaimed dramatically, before bowing exaggeratedly. ''I am the Entity generally known as Death, but you may call me Mort. This is my younger lovely sister, Moira, the one and only representation of Fate. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mistress.''

Moira bowed her head slightly in greeting but kept silent; her mind clearly was not completely in the room or the conversation at hand.

In turn, Rosemary was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she had just met Death and Fate and…

''Wait a moment! What do you mean by Mistress?''

''Well, you see,'' the man started uneasily, eyes shifting to his sister and back to the human girl. ''That's due to something else that happened before you died…''

''What this moron means,'' Moira explained as she directed a glare at her brother; it was clearly obvious that she wasn't happy with him. The man only looked back meekly at her, completely in contrast with his previous attitude when she had nagged at him, ''is that a long time ago, he got so utterly drunk that he forgot two entire days' worth of memories – which let me tell you, to beings like us, it's something so nearly impossible to accomplish that's not even the least bit funny –''

''It was Dyonisus' fault…'' Mort tried to defend himself, but his sister utterly ignored him. The man's current image of a virtual kicked puppy was so entirely at odds with his usual appearance, not to mention that he was the Death, that Rosemary was having a hard time conciliate the fact that both were one and the same.

'' – for some unknown reason, sometime during those two days, he had the bright idea of creating and gifting three very powerful, magical artefacts to mortal humans. With these, anyone who would reunite them all and fulfilled the required conditions would be able to have some power over Death itself, or more accurately over Mort himself,'' the unrelenting, beautiful female deity continued, not even sparing a look to her currently pitiful-looking brother. ''When he finally came to his senses, he went around in a panic, trying to solve the problem, which proved to be futile. You see, as powerful as we are, we cannot interfere directly in any of the human's worlds, with the exception of our specific tasks, if we have them; such as colleting the dead's souls in the grim reapers' case, for example.''

Rosemary already had a fair idea where this was going, but she knew she was completely powerless against it, and, just like a train wreck, she couldn't turn her attention away from it even though she already knew the terrible outcome.

''Thus, he couldn't simply go and collect them, obviously,'' Moira continued on ruthlessly, completely unbothered by her brother's pleas to stop talking about his 'past disgraceful mistakes'. It seemed that she had this matter too long inside, weighing heavily on her mind, and now she was all for liberating herself from that burden. ''Then, he came to me, all pitiful looking, begging me to find a way to save his hide from impending slavery, or as close to it as an immortal deity could ever get. Of course, at first I was of a mind of just letting him reap what he sowed and suffer due to his idiocy for a while – that's why it's only now that the matter is being solved, but I digress… The point is that, as Fate, it's within my power to guide some mortals towards futures which were not theirs at first. Mind, I don't do this to every human which ever existed – thank the heavens, or I wouldn't ever leave this office otherwise – but only a selected few souls who have been predetermined as special before they were even born, as it was your case in particular. Due to the prophecy made a year before you were born – which, by the way, was fulfilled on the Hallowe'en night of '81 –, you automatically became someone within my power to guide. Mind my words, though, I say guide and nothing else, my power doesn't extend over that, I don't take your free will or anyone else's away,'' she quickly added when Rosemary was gearing herself up to protest against being Fate's chewing toy, as she had thought numerous times thorough her life. ''My job is to simply present the chosen mortals with different options, each one depending on their own particular circumstances, however their ultimate decisions and actions are always up to them. You can understand the unconditional truth of this claim by the fact that you are here when you should be still alive on the human world right now.''

Moira paused for a bit, allowing her words time to sink in Rosemary's mind. There was so much new and unexpected information that she was having a hard time properly process it all.

The Girl-Who-lived mulled over all this for a while, eventually agreeing with the female deity on the point that she had chosen her path willingly, if Moira's early reaction to Rosemary's unanticipated arrival at her office was anything to go by. It had been more than obvious that if the Fate could have prevented her from dying, she would have done it, surely.

However, Rosemary still didn't understand what actually meant to be the 'Mistress of Death', or her particular role in this mess. For all intents and purposes, she was already dead, even Moira clearly confirmed it, so she really didn't know what to think about it. She recalled Mr. Lovegood's tale of the Deadly Hallows from not that long ago, but she wasn't sure if she could really believe in anything that wizard said, if the things he usually wrote about in his magazine were anything to go by.

''Anyway, after careful consideration, I chose you as the first and only one who could eventually become the rightful owner and master of the three Deathly Hallows, as the humans called them,'' Fate spoke up again, gaze still unfalteringly directed at Rosemary. ''Firstly, you were already the true owner of the Cloak since you were fifteen months old; secondly, I believed, with your already heavy burden, that these artefacts could be an advantage to you in the long run – thus through carefully planned events, you were able to gain ownership of the wand, through one Draco Malfoy, and Dumbledore had already left you the stone even if you didn't know it at the time. And thirdly, I trusted in your strength of character and unassuming kindness to never attempt to subjugate Death or overstepping your boundaries within your new powers unlike some other malicious possible candidates. As you are the first ever Mistress of Death, most of your powers are still unknown currently and it would be an unspeaking disaster of epic proportions if a human ever forcefully gained more power beyond the ancestral immortal deities and gods.''

Despite the situation at hand, Rosemary felt somewhat touched by the way she was seen through Fate's eyes. If pressed, she could admit that she really wasn't a bad person, despite all the bad things she had done through her life. Certainly, she was usually kind and she tried her best to help people when she could, sometimes even against her common sense – she had what Hermione often called her 'people-saving thing', after all, though, lately that facet was not so strong nor undiscriminating as it had been years ago. Still, she would never dream that an ancient and powerful Deity would ever think so highly of her. She was almost embarrassed.

''However, all my plans for your future were shot down the drain, when you went and allowed the Dark Lord to kill you,'' Moira suddenly erupted, annoyed once again. Her moods were almost giving Rosemary whiplash. Maybe she was PSMing? Was that even possible with an immortal body? ''Long days' worth of carefully filled paperwork useless just like that! I had so many promising plans for your future, you know? Now, I'll have to do it all over again!''

Rosemary, long used to Hermione's rantings, quietly let the woman vent her frustrations. If she said anything in her defence – though, what she could really say, anyway? It was not like she had died because of a whim or any trivial reason – things would only get worse.

Mort, still quietly standing near Rosemary, let his sister rant as well. The human girl stole an inconspicuous peek at Death, noticing that he had already lost his previously meek expression, now that the airing of his past sins had ended, and waited with a clearly bored mien for Moira to finish her angry tirade. Did all immortals have such peculiar personalities, or were just these two in particular, Rosemary idly wondered.

''Now we face a conundrum,'' Fate stated after a while, as if she hadn't just abused the other two's ears with her almost screams. ''As I said before, you're dead, no doubt about it. However, because you are the Mistress of Death, you shouldn't be killed that easily, as you in some level command Death itself, thus control your own existence as well to some extent, even unconsciously. The only way for you to actually die is to do what you just did, willingly allowing yourself to be killed by another – just for record, suicide doesn't work,'' she added all matter-of-factly. ''What this means exactly? I'm sure you're wondering.'' Rosemary mutely nodded in confirmation, currently speechless due to all this new and shocking information. ''As you willingly left your world behind, you'll never be able to return to it; to that particular place you're dead as it should be in that dimension. Due to your particular supernatural powers combined with your humanity, you can't remain dead or in the immortal realm for long, though, so we have to find a new place for you to live in, which it's not as hard as it may seem for ones such as us. There are a multitude of universes from which you can choose; they are all completely different from your old world. Before you ask, there is no other universe with the kind of magic you're used to and the people are all entirely different as well, so every one of them will be equally unknown to you.''

Rosemary thought deeply for a while, choosing to ignore the full connotations of her being able to control Death and any other unknown powers she may have had gained due to owning the Deathly Hallows for the moment. It was sad, albeit not unexpected, that she couldn't return to her world, but it had been her own decision to die at Voldemort's hand regardless of the reasons that had made her do it, so she just had to get over it. The most important was that she had managed to help everyone, even if only a fraction, to defeat Voldemort and now her friends and surrogate family were free and safe with a bright future to look forward to.

The Potter Heiress was sure that eventually she would feel more upset about this particular issue later, but she was thankful for whatever was holding back most of her feelings at the moment. This way, she could think sensibly and decide what she would do from now on without grief and pain weighing on her mind and heart.

What kind of world she would like to live into? She mused, closing her eyes and trying to imagine her future self somewhere else, different from everything she had ever known. Frustratingly, she couldn't. Moira had said that there no other world of magic like her own. For some reason, Rosemary really didn't want to go somewhere with magic different of her own. Not really. So, what was left was some place similar to the muggle world that she was used to, she decided. At least, she would still have something that reminded of her past, if only a little.

''I'd like to go somewhere that's similar to the muggle world, equally technologically-advanced, if possible,'' Rosemary said out loud, as she continued to think. ''None of that too-advanced technology stuff,'' her very little knowledge of technology beyond anything to do with house chores or anything related came to mind at that – she didn't even any idea how to work with Dudley's desktop computer. She wrinkled her nose, before adding more certain, ''hum, nowhere with wars, either, I battled for a lifetime already, I'd like some normalcy and peace…''

Unbeknownst to the human girl, the immortal siblings traded a silent look which carried a whole conversation.

''Say, if you really don't have any particular destination in mind beyond what you just said, how would you like about helping some kids out?,'' Moira asked in feigned casualness as she retrieved some papers from one of the neat piles upon her desk.

''What do you mean?'', Rosemary asked, focusing on the Fate's personification before her and promptly losing her previous train of thought.

''After listening to your requirements for your new home, I couldn't help but think about a situation I've been asked to help with by a minor god. The request has been made some time ago already but, up until now, I've been unable to find someone suitable who could help fix the situation,'' Moira explained, abandoning her nonchalant act halfway through when she realized that Rosemary was onto her already. The girl, herself, knew she was rather predictable when it came to this subject. Really, there was no use in pretending. ''This particular world is very much similar to your own muggle world. There are some differences, of course, but overall, it's as close as you could get to your own, if you discount your magical world altogether.''

Rosemary didn't even bother mentioning the obvious bait; she wasn't really surprised that Fate would know her personality as well as herself did and consequently manipulate her to the deity's advantage. The girl was only glad that it was for a good cause, at least. Still, she wasn't just going to accept it that easily without any more information. She had, at least, learned not to go into a new situation blind and unaware, after all the dangerous adventures she had been through her short life.

''How could I help kids by myself, anyway? Would I even retain my magic?''

''Everything you have will remain yours – your magic, your memories, your knowledge and of course your Mistress of Death's powers as well, whatever they may be,'' Mort calmly explained, still standing at her side. ''Of course, we would have to forge some records for you and anything else required, but that's not really a difficult issue. By having you as my Mistress, I'll have some more freedom than before to move in the human world and thus help you when necessary.''

Rosemary didn't verbally respond to that but she was happy nonetheless that she wouldn't be completely alone and powerless, regardless of what she chose her next actions would be, even though her companion would be Death himself. She didn't dislike him or anything, but she was sure that she couldn't expect him to behave similarly to humans as she was naturally used to and she predicted his presence would be scarce at best.

''Regarding the kids,'' Moira said, as she looked through the paperwork. ''They are of varying ages, both boys and girls. Well, some of them are already adults – though to someone such as I, evidently they are all still children – but they are all in the same situation and share the same powerlessness to do anything to better their own circumstances.''

''Could you tell me more about it, please?'', Rosemary asked, when the woman wasn't more forthcoming.

''Hmm, did you ever heard of the old Chinese folklore tale of 'God and the Twelve Zodiac Animals?'''

''No, I don't think so,'' the witch replied after some thought. She was aware of what the Chinese zodiac signs meant – she was fairly sure she had been born in the year of the Monkey, she had checked due to simple curiosity after Hermione once had vaguely spoken about it after she had read a book the bushy-haired had borrowed from the library for 'light reading'. Rosemary wasn't aware of any legend about them and god, though.

''Like any other legend, this story has several versions, but the one currently believed by those people and the one you must know right now goes like this:

Long, long time ago, god told the animals, 'I'm inviting you all to my banquet tomorrow. Don't be late.'

Hearing that, the mischievous Rat lied to his neighbour, the Cat, and told him the banquet would be day after tomorrow.

The next day, the Rat rode on the back of the Ox and nimbly landed before the banquet hall. After him, followed the Ox, the Tiger, and all the rest. Together they feasted until the next morning.

All except for the Cat who had been tricked.''*

Moira told this tale with a perfectly stoic face and bland tone, but Rosemary wasn't really paying attention to the beautiful woman anymore. She was starting to have a vague idea of what she was going to be asked to do. She could easily deduct that the 'Zodiac Animals' were somehow connected to the 'kids'. Perhaps, each person represented one animal – the twelve plus the Cat, maybe? So, at least thirteen people were involved and needed help of some kind…

''So what is the correlation between the kids and the zodiac animals?'', Rosemary finally asked after some time.

''Around five hundred years ago, there was a minor Japanese god, wandering this particular mortal world. Somehow, he found himself in a rather dangerous situation and was promptly saved by a passing nobleman by the name of Souma from harm,'' Moira explained, while she sorted through the papers in front of her. ''In gratitude, this god offered him and his whole clan his blessing and protection for the following generations. This particular kind of gift was and still is rather unusual, even amongst us immortals. From then up until now, every generation, fourteen individuals from the Souma Clan had been chosen by this god to each reincarnate the Twelve Zodiac Animals' and the Cat's spirits and the last one to represent god himself and serve as the liaison among all them, bonding them all to him with the intention of creating something precious. However, as the time passed, the chosen people in the Clan started to regard this gift as a curse instead, displeasing god, because from their point of view they were shackled together against their will, leaving them no way to escape. Thus, the bond which had been previously considered precious started to become something twisted, restrictive and sometimes even painful instead. Also, along the way, they forgot the true origin and purpose of this connection, except for the few vague dreams each one of them had about their respective spirits.

''In retribution to these misguided beliefs, god punished them by forcing them back to the spirits' original forms every time they hugged someone from the opposite gender, the only exception being their fellows chosen clansmen. The fact they would change whenever they felt weak or too sick didn't change, however. Of course, this situation didn't endear god or their situation to them or any of their successors any further, only making them more and more displeased instead. The centuries passed in this fashion until a few years ago, when god, in a fit of blind fury due to something the god's own representative did at the time, completely cut off the bond between her and the Rooster, simultaneously taking away the Zodiac's spirit bestowed upon him. This reckless action hurt all three of them: the god's representative's already slightly unstable mental health deteriorated even further, which in turn didn't make things any easier to the other chosen Zodiac; the one who once had held the Rooster spirit was left feeling emotionally empty and lost due to the sudden break of the bond that he had had all his life and the god himself felt his own powers weaken considerably. It was after this incident that god requested my services to help salvage this situation.''

When she stopped, the Fate's personification offered the stack of papers she had just looked through to Rosemary. The girl promptly accepted and carefully looked through them as well. There wasn't much to read, though. Each of the fourteen pages only held a candid photograph with their respective names, current ages and the spirit they represented. The people were fairly young, she noted. The eldest were twenty-nine and the youngest were twelve, being that most of them were about Rosemary's own age. Another thing she idly noticed was that the Souma's genes were quite impressive; despite being quite different appearance-wise, they all were very good-looking.

Now that she heard the story of these people, Rosemary could see the suffering in their eyes, ones most expertly hidden than others, even in those stationary photos. She knew herself and she was sure that, at least, Moira knew as well, that now that Rosemary knew of this, she couldn't turn her back on it and she would do her best to help them in any way she could. She would never forget her old world, her precious friends and the mismatched family who had loved Rosemary as if she had been their own. It was enough for her to know they were finally safe and happy, though. She, too, would move on and start a new adventure and helping people in need as it was her vocation, or at least she would like to believe it was so.

''So, how can I help them?''