Prologue
CAUTION: Every path I took captivated me like a rose, but they all had thorns that pricked my hand.
Destiny? Romance? Happily-ever-afters?
Lies.
If you hoped for F a t e to be a simple, heartwarming love story, turn the other way.
Don't look back! Because "the man of your dreams" was very much the man of my nightmares, in a way you'd never begin to imagine.
So please. Save yourself the trauma.
But if you really, really, really want to hear it...then remember this fact.
Fate only leads its victims by the beauty it wants them to believe. From the poor to the prosperous, mortal to immortal, all fall victim to a single susceptibility—desire.
And what better victim to give an account of Fate than myself, Lyra Song. A debtor's daughter whose crimes are bound by blood, my life incessantly pursued by the man who rules this empire.
These chains kept me captive the same way Fate kept me in a blindfold.
In the pursuit of freedom, I rose to the top and hit rock bottom. My life had purpose, my life was meaningless. I had everything, I had nothing. I shed, I bled. I lived, I died, and hell. I even came back to life. All to return back to square one, trapped in the dark.
Hah...what a joke. Fate just had to turn me into its fugitive and play me like a marionette. So why can't it be found guilty for its actions, as well as everyone else who played me?
Why, why, why?!
The evidence is everywhere—and yet—all the stories on the shelves turned a blind eye to its true nature. Everyone believed what was written in their hearts. No one else but me felt the need to investigate, to ask the identity of Fate...
Who is Fate?
The number one suspect that no one suspected: a weaver who makes traps with tapestries, working her spinning wheel of hallucinations to craft mesmerizing machinations.
Slick like Santa's elves, she wraps the world in fancy fabric and ties them up with a bow.
Sly like a Siren's song, she strikes a chord to make hearts beat until they walk the plank.
Smooth like Satan's sins, she seduces souls with sugar-coated lies to poison them inside out.
Whose story it was never mattered; Fate always twisted the tale.
Except I refused to let Fate flee the scene after getting pricked by her spindle too many times.
After surviving from haunted nightmares and supernatural entities, no end in sight.
After falling for what felt real when it was fake, no discernment between night and day.
Time after time,
I tried to run from the past.
I tried to hide in the present.
But in the end, I had to fight for the future. Fight for the truth. Not with deceptive darkness, but with the light of the world.
Else I would have never woken up from my sleep.
