Fate's Hands Novels & Stories

Zhang fei fei noticed the change Thanatos caused by this brief moment, though he is not the fate keeper he is still the keeper of the twisted book of fate so he knows whenever somebody change fate. "I really picked trouble by striking a deal with him," Zhang fei fei said to himself as a book automatically appeared before him. "guess i have to change it back to a possibility i can contain," Zhang fei fei said as a feather automatically appeared which he dipped into an ink to write.

He held me so tightly, promising, "I don't believe in fate. I only know that you are the love of my life." I had believed him. Every memory of our love felt vivid, still so close—yet now, he had abandoned me for another woman without a second thought. I didn't understand. Was fate truly something we couldn't fight? Had it really pulled him, irresistibly, into Grace's arms? My whole body ached, each breath felt like fire. I couldn't tell whether the pain came from the wound or from my heart. Darkness fell like a curtain. When I came to, I was lying in a hospital bed.

He rarely said my name, which made my heart break a little. I turned towards him and looked at him. “That night.” He said, eyes dark, unguarded. “Was the first time I believed in fate.” My breath caught. “And now?” I asked. His gaze dropped to his injured hand. “Now.” He said. “I believe that fate always comes back to collect.” I left but the memory stayed. ----------------------------------------------

He needs antibiotics first. Just as I pull my hand from his, his eyes go wide. He grabs my arm and yanks me back—just in time. A human lunges forward, knife aimed right where my heart would’ve been—and hits the warrior’s chest instead. I freeze. He took the hit for me. Rage ignites. Layla merges with me as I snarl, tackling the human to the ground. My claws elongate and I shred his throat with one hand, his stomach with the other—spilling his guts like ribbons across the dirt.

If not any! Get that straight right within fate. You are limited. Grow your present state. Kick the fate away and never beg again. Folding hands means what? You cannot beg for a good start, good thought, good deeds. Should be like spring coming out of you. You are safer in environments that value disputes. Not acceptance is for you. But questioning is the game of your mind. Play it. Life is sports as I described. Folding hands means begging for a place to be understood, to be humble, and to beg. Isn’t too not the same? You value you. Do not stretch below the feet of others. You are resembling God. Why do you need to accept priests' grumble?

When we reach the grave from before, I stop and release his hand. It falls to his side. I stare at the grave and avoid his face. “You were right when you said I'm selfish.” I start. “I don't know how to trust. Until now, I've never even tried to, not really, I run away, hide and avoid everyone who tries to get close to me. But there is one thing I have always trusted and that is fate. These threads that I see. They never deceive me, they show truth, good and bad. They do nothing to spare my feelings because fate doesn't care about my feelings. There are times I wish I couldn't see them at all because what I see is so heartbreaking. But despite that, I really do trust them. Completely. I trus

“This hasn’t happened. What is happening to me?” But the images kept flickering. Broken glass. Twisted metal. Aurora’s cold hand. It felt like memories. Except they weren’t his. But they felt like they were. His breath hitched. “I’m losing my mind—” Except he wasn’t. Because next to him, invisible and unseen, Fate sat in the passenger seat,her small form glowing faintly, her delicate fingers outstretched toward him. Her eyes were sad. Her voice… unheard by him, whispered,

It is observing me. “One further disturbance will trigger permanent correction,” Fate states. “This is final notice.” I think of Nora’s hands clutching my coat. Of the way she leaned into me without hesitation. Of the stillness she brought into a being who has never been allowed to stop. “I acknowledge the notice,” I say. The weave loosens incrementally. Fate withdraws, not retreating but redistributing attention elsewhere. Contingencies are already being calculated. Paths that do not yet exist are quietly prepared.

“Nikolai, Nova, *these are the hands of your best friend, young, strong and full of love for you as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow and forever. These are the hands that will work alongside yours as you build your future together. These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years and, with the slightest touch, will comfort you like no other.” *“These are the hands that will hold you when fear or grief fills your mind, when unwanted thoughts creep into your memories and threaten to break you. These are the hands that will wipe the tears from your eyes; tears of sorrow and tears of joy. These are the hands that will tenderly hold your children