Tyche, her face grim, looked at the smiling Phoibe, clenching her fists. The pain in her palm brought her to her senses, and she asked again, "Your Highness Phoibe, you wouldn't have come just to warn me, would you?"
The dignified Phoibe smiled without speaking, her eyes fixed on Tyche, her vacant gaze seeming to see the distant future.
Tyche's heart leaped into her throat again, and she couldn't help but raise her voice, "Your Highness Phoibe?"
The goddess of prophecy then shifted her gaze and said calmly, "Do not worry that I will harm you. Your appearance may not be a bad thing for the predetermined fate."
Tyche's unease subsided. Deities were very self-centered beings, rarely deceiving themselves. Asking a deity of the domain of fate for a prophecy guaranteed its truth. This was the price of foresight—the divine office could not be desecrated!
'So my appearance is something she welcomes, because it brings her some benefit?' Tyche mused, her expression unchanged, and asked humbly, "Is there anything I can do for you?"
Phoibe, unexpectedly forthright, asked, "Do you wish to possess the divine office of the domain of fate?"
Tyche, unable to fathom her meaning, replied cautiously, "Fate is within your control; no deity can contend with you in this domain."
"I see it. The origin of fate will give birth to three Moirai, who will bind all possibilities of fate. At that time, the power of fate will leave me, and I will fall silent, slumbering at the bottom of the river of fate."
After speaking, she smiled and took Tyche's hand, "And you will be the beginning of changing all of this."
Tyche smiled and helped Phoibe up, asking, "Me? The might of fate is so powerful, what can I do?"
Phoibe's expression turned solemn, and she said, "You will become the goddess of opportunity, scattering the origin of fate and preventing the appearance of the Moirai!"
Tyche's expression was unreadable. She remained silent for a long time, then said word by word, "I swear upon the River Styx, we will reach an agreement!"
Phoibe immediately spoke, "I swear upon the great River Styx that I will share the power of fate with Tyche, and the price is that Tyche will prevent the birth of the Moirai. With divine fire as witness, this agreement shall be kept!"
Tyche responded, "I am willing to accept this transaction. With divine fire as witness, this agreement shall be kept!"
The power of the River Styx responded to the oaths of the two goddesses. Deities who broke their oaths would be eternally imprisoned in the River Styx. After sealing their vows with a handshake, the atmosphere between the two goddesses immediately became friendly. The oath of the River Styx provided a foundation of mutual trust between them.
Phoibe extended her hand, offering Tyche a ball of radiant divine essence. Sweat trickled down her forehead, and it was clear that the pain of dividing her divinity made it difficult for her to maintain her divine majesty.
Taking the masterless divinity, Tyche absorbed it under Phoibe's gaze. The powerful divine essence of fate made her brilliant divine fire burn even more fiercely.
Phoibe smiled with satisfaction and sank back onto her throne, instructing the newly born goddess of the domain of fate, "The power of fate is so vast that we cannot control it; we can only influence it. Remember! Every choice you make will bring about completely different results!"
Tyche accepted the lesson. The divine essence of fate merged with her divine fire, and from the sparks, a beautiful butterfly was born. The butterfly lightly flapped its wings and landed on Tyche's fingertip.
Phoibe looked up at the butterfly born of the power of fate, "The choice of fate, it suits you well."
"Strive to acquire more of the power of the origin of fate. We will replace the Moirai and become the goddesses of fate. I will be the goddess of fate representing the future, and you will be the goddess of fate representing the present. As long as the god of past fate appears, our plan will have a basis for success."
With that, Phoibe waved her hand to dismiss Tyche. After a solemn bow, Tyche withdrew from the Temple of Prophecy. The power of fate enveloped the temple and retreated into an invisible, unknown realm. Phoibe would need a long period of recuperation to recover.
Tyche sensed the newly connected domain of fate. The divine offices of opportunity and choice were gestating. Once they were fully formed, Tyche would gain immense power, possibly even being able to contend with deities of great power without defeat.
The butterfly on her fingertip flew along the unknown threads of fate towards a place where cause and effect intertwined. The divine power of opportunity stirred, and following the butterfly's direction, Tyche saw a thread of fate, glowing red, connecting two deities. At one end of the thread was Asteria, the goddess of the starry night and astrology, who was about to awaken. At the other end was Perses—the eldest son of the second generation Titan, the son of the god of growth Crius, and the ocean power Eurynome, who presided over destruction and devastation.
Tyche, for the umpteenth time, found herself troubled by this complex familial relationship, thinking with a wry smile that this was yet another cousin and nephew deity.
Curiously, she touched the red thread. The divine essence of fate transmitted an inexplicable intention. Tyche subconsciously felt that the two should become husband and wife. When she came to her senses, cold sweat was streaming down her forehead.
She immediately avoided the thread and retreated far away, "What am I doing? This isn't my thought!"
The divine power of ice and snow covered her body, calming Tyche from her panic. Looking at the red thread, Tyche felt the terrifying power of fate for the first time.
No wonder the prophecies of the god of fate were always vague and ambiguous. To speak of the glimpsed fate would entangle one with threads of causality. If these threads of causality could not be severed, they would gradually pull those entangled towards the outcome of returning to the origin of fate.