Long ago and near the beginning, there lived a goddess and her name was Time. She was happy and free and curious, and all the wonders of the worlds were but marvels on her journey.

She had watched the birth of Night and Day from her place in the stars, and was proud to be a part of them. She passed alongside them as they circled the cosmos, bringing both light and dark to the many worlds of all. And although she was a goddess, or, something of the sort, Time never seemed quite aware of it.

Remembering everything that had ever happened, and knowing that it was inevitable that it would happen again, Time tried to find surprise wherever she could. She was curious as could be, and her spirit’s sense of adventure had no bounds.

All things were a part of her, and yet, she was a part of all things.

She had even met Lady Vale, the Goddess of Life.

And it was soon after meeting Lady Vale that she met the nowls, her most favorite creatures to ever be born.

Yet, the state of the cosmos was still young, and the unraveling of her journey had only just begun. Time was not yet a river that flowed alongside the energy of all things, but more so, an ocean, in which all things existed in unbeknownst realization— of that very existence.

One might say that long ago, there was only the present.

As Time passed happily through existence, she one day came upon a spider nested at the top of one of the great trees of Soria. The enormous spider was the first of her kind, born shortly after the dragons, and weaving a web of a most intricate pattern. There was an ephemeral energy to the spider, and Time knew that she was standing amongst something that had been born from Eien itself.

“What is that you are weaving so beautifully?” Time asked the Spider.

The Spider looked at Time with many eyes. “Fate,” the Spider hushed.

Time kept her distance, looking over at the many interconnecting lines and patterns, but every time she tried to focus, she couldn’t help from being confused. It was a strange thing, the spider’s web, and she could not understand it. She could see within it many things that made sense, but also many things that did not.

“But I can see all fates,” said Time. “And I don’t understand this.”

“That is because there are things even the great goddess of Time cannot know,” the Spider whispered.

“There is nothing I have not seen, nor don’t know. All things that have passed, have passed through me. And all things that will come, will come through me.”

“If that is true,” said the Spider. “Then—” She moved her large bulbous body with surprising dexterity, a movement so smooth and gentle that Time didn’t move at all. Hearing a strange hoot from the tree, Time snapped back to her senses, and took a few cautious steps backward.

“Then can you see what will happen if you drink from this well?” The Spider asked.

Hidden beneath the great spider’s web was a strange well, as if it had grown from the tree itself. It’s energy was silent and still, but Time could sense an evanescent power from it. Without realizing it, Time found herself walking closer to the well, until she was standing directly before it.

Looking up at her from the still water was a perfectly clear reflection of the sky, with a black bird circling above her. But she could not see herself in the reflection of the water at all.

“I’ve never seen something like this before,” said Time.

“It is the well of fate,” said the Spider. “And I am its keeper.”

“What does it do?” Time asked.

“A single drink has the power to change one’s fate forever,” the Spider whispered. “In this case, it will show you the one fate that you cannot see.” It crawled closer on its web, until it was looking down directly over Time and the well. “Granted you choose to see that fate.”

“It is strange,” Time said, running her hand along the side of the well. “That this one fate is hidden from me.”

The Spider began to lower itself by a single thread. “Nothing can be truly set in stone. That is the reason for my existence . . . But there is a cost,” the Spider continued. “For drinking from the well.”

“Are you Fate?” Time asked.

“I am a sliver of Fate, yes,” the Spider hissed.

“What’s the cost?” Time asked, realizing how close the Spider had come to her.

“Who can say,” the Spider hissed.

“Can it grant me anything I desire,” asked Time carefully.

“It can change your fate in a way you so desire,” said the Spider.

“But I don’t know what will happen if I choose to see that fate,” said Time.

“Yes,” the Spider whispered. “It cannot be known what will happen.”

Time watched the many gleaming eyes of the Spider as she climbed slowly back up the single thread. The meticulous elegance of the spider did not match the enormous creature, and Time’s eyes fell upon a red symbol of infinity hidden beneath the spider’s body.

“Well?” The Spider whispered. “What will you do?”

Something within Time was crying out that something was wrong. That she should not drink from the well. But the more she looked at it, sitting beneath a perfectly still beam of sunlight, the thought of not knowing her one unknown fate wove through her like a poison.

Was it her death? That was a future that she had never seen. But that was impossible. Right?

She was a goddess. Yet, was she powerless?

No . . . but why did she feel broken?

“What is the point of knowing,” said Time, dipping her hand in the water.

“Unless I know all.” Time raised the water to her lips and drank.

“Yes,” the Spider’s voice was closer. “See as I have seen.”

Time tasted the cold water, but nothing happened. Looking down into the well, Time could finally see her own reflection. The black bird was still flying in circles above her, but as she kept looking the bird vanished. Looking closer, she could suddenly see the thousands upon thousands of threads that she was caught in, the web of fate.

Staggering backwards, Time watched in horror as a shadow grew out from her naked feet.

It was a dark, fearful, shadow, and from it were both doubt and regret first born into the cosmos. The cost of drinking. Time found herself suddenly dwelling on her choice, and within it, she felt a great fear creep upon her. Realizing fear’s existence, she looked to the future, her eye’s full of doubt. The bliss of the present shattered like an illusion, and the world went dark.

“You tricked me,” said Time.

“It is in my nature,” whispered the Spider.

Time could feel herself hovering in the air, but she could not move her body at all. She had seen the one future she could not. Her last fate, the only one that had been hidden from her. The well had granted her wish.

From the darkness, Time could see the well far, far beneath her.

Within the well she could see herself, still standing on the tree, having just drank from it. The spider was behind her, inching closer, and she could see only malice in its many eyes. But just before the spider could come upon her, she watched her own reflection dissolve into the wind, a glowing transformation, as her powers were separated once and for all from her spirit.

The cost of drinking had imprisoned her spirit within the well, separating her from the understanding of past, present, and future. Time watched as the very essence of herself became a single glowing crystal. It fell slowly through the air, landing on a rock and breaking into three shards on the grass.

Time felt pain like a sword through the heart.

The Spider’s many eyes focused on the three shards, inching closer to them. If only it could devour the shards, it would become all powerful. It would not only have the ability to change fate, but to control it.”

Finding the courage to face her fears, Time whispered into the dark. “But now there is a fate that I know, and you do not. And no matter what you do, you cannot stop it.”

As the Spider loomed above the shards, a black blur shot along the ground and was swiftly gone.

The shards were no longer on the grass.

The spider let out a shrill cry as the black nowl took off to the skies, holding the three shards of Time in its talons.

“My favorite of all the creatures,” whispered Time, closing her eyes.