Marsias

Hello, everyone!

I’m thrilled to share a glimpse of my upcoming novel, Marsias. This scene captures a pivotal moment where the Fates themselves—those who hold the threads of all lives—wrestle over the intertwined destiny of Daphnis and Chloe. Just as tension rises, their sister Tyche steps in, her presence commanding and her words like thunder, bringing a new force to the conflict. It’s a passage brimming with mythological weight and emotional intensity, hinting at the deeper struggles between love, pride, and the whims of the gods.

I hope you like it!

My blows were so powerful that Eris released her grip on Chloe. My anger, along with the force of the wind, drove her away from Chloe and swept her far from us. But we were still not falling; the peak was near, and Phoebus would win. Amid the chaos that the God of Light had summoned, familiar voices echoed. Beyond all and outside of nothing, the Fates hovered above a thick thread, running their nails delicately along the tiny cracks that had begun to form. Lachesis pulled to separate them, Clotho untangled the knots before they could weave into the fabric, and Atropos, with her rusty scissors, made small deaths along the thread.

“Careful! Don’t cut them—it’s not their time yet. Just wound them!”

“Mind your business, Clotho. We’re fixing your mistakes! Don’t try to teach me how to make the cuts.”

“Both of you, quiet! While I hold them up here naked, skin them. A little more, and they’ll separate like before.”

“I see the moment, hold it high so I don’t ruin the weave and make things worse. Afterward, we’ll never hear the end of it from the Gods.”

“Don’t worry, Atropos, we’re doing the work they want. Apollo himself took an interest in this couple.”

“I wonder what they did, Lachesis, for Phoebus to order a change in the pattern halfway through the design.”

“Hubris, surely. Arrogant mortals who don’t know the place that suits them.”

And then, Tyche interrupted her sisters, just as she had the first time I ever heard them. Her voice was harsh, steeped in contempt, with words like crashing cymbals that shattered the flow of the storm that was lifting us. She spoke in sentences like thunder, her rage overflowing as she held in her hands the Horn of Amalthea.

“Those wretched souls, the hopeless ones who walk within the dark,

Do not pity them, sisters, do not count them in your ranks.

Their place within the woven thread is not to stay united,

It’s only just to meet again, and once again, to part.

Phoebus himself has ordered us to sever their strong tether,

And intervene directly now to cut the strands asunder.

It isn’t just the insults that their mere existence brings,

It isn’t just their hidden kisses whispered in the shadows,

Nor is it passion in their hearts that melts all that they see.

It is the bond they share, a tie unmatched by any foe,

A love so deep the gods themselves must turn away their gaze,

Their love, as vast as oceans wide, where Poseidon dared not swim.

And standing as a witness near, a guard to shield their love,

He who was stripped by Phoebus’ hand, his skin a great prize.

The first among the Satyrs, who composed the songs of joy,

The flutist of Lord Dionysus, in the feasts of Pan,

Marsias, lord of the flute, defeated by Phoebus’ light,

Who in the waters of the stream, was stripped of flesh and life.

It is he whom the Enlightened One demands to kneel again,

And mold that arrogance of his, to soften it with grace.

His will has matched the insolence of Hades’ own disdain,

The sin the two of them performed in their first tender kiss,

Thus light and darkness joined their force, their kiss the first offense,

Apollo’s sun did intertwine with Hades’ ancient night,

So strong their steps, they shook the earth beneath them as they walked,

So fierce their breaths, they stirred the winds that from their lips escaped.

Nature recoils from their touch, rejecting every glance,

And Eros himself was vanquished here, within this bitter war.

Come now, sisters, who know the reasons and the laws of fate,

Bring forth your sharpened shears, and tighten up their fragile thread,

The time has come at last for them, the string must now divide,

And let Daphnis and his Chloe no longer be as one.”