When Martha awoke, it was deep into the nighttime. She awoke from her slumber and found that in her sleep, she had nearly fallen off the mattress. Bad dreams, she supposed. She looked to see that Clotho had now taken the guard, with Lachesis caring for Atropos, who was somewhat stable, considering all she had been through. Martha looked at her once-lively sister, her mentor and confidant.

“She’s very close, it might be any day now,” Clotho said.

“So it seems,” Martha replied glumly.

“It was good that she found you,” Clotho said, staring into Martha’s eyes, “she always said it was by chance, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I believe in that.”

“Well,” Martha said, “whatever luck we had, we better just hope it doesn’t run out.”

Clotho shrugged, then glanced at her, then the sleeping Tim. “Perhaps you should take a walk. It’s been a long while since you’ve been free to walk about the Earth without fear.”

“But what if Atropos–”

“It is not yet her time, I can sense it, and I know you can too,” Lachesis suddenly croaked from the corner, still shaking her tiredness, “she is close, but it is not the end.”

“Very well,” Martha said, “be sure to let Tim know I’m safe.”

“We’ll take care of them, dear,” Clotho replied, “now go.”

Martha quickly descended the stone stairs, worn down by years of use, and waved to the night shift worker as she pulled the hood on her shawl over her head and went to walk. The town was only a few miles from the beach, and in no time, she found she had meandered back onto it. The moon shone brightly above her, and she realized, it must’ve been about full.

For all the terror impacting the world, on nights like tonight, it was hard to see all of that in the murky depths of the North Sea. It seemed like the Sea and the Moon were all that remained constant. Of course, she’d taken enough science to know that neither of those things were true. Even assuming all this stuff about gods wasn’t the case, the oceans would boil and the moon would eventually fling out of orbit. But for now, things seemed at peace.

Just as she turned away from the ocean to walk back, she noticed her phone ringing in her pocket and instinctively reached to grab it, then froze. This could be anyone, wanting anything. Fuck. She shakily took her hand out of her pocket to check the ID. Call from “Mom”.

“Hi mom,” she answered.

“Martha,” her mother spoke in a shaky voice, “I know you’re probably busy, and I didn’t want to call you, but your father just had a heart attack.”

“What?” Martha hissed. Of course it happened the one day she wasn’t monitoring the threads, so she couldn’t have known.

She composed herself and asked, as calmly as possible, “Is he alright now?”

“No,” her mother replied, starting to sob, “his body is cold but…he’s still alive. His heart’s not beating, but he’s still alive.”

“Hold on mom,” Martha replied, “I’ll be right over with some friends.”

She hung up her phone and teleported back. All four of the room’s occupants looked at her like she’d grown two heads.

“What the fuck are you thinking?” Lachesis hissed, “Do you want to get us all killed?”

“People on Earth aren’t fucking dying when they should be,” Martha replied.

“So the legends are true,” Atropos spoke, for the first time in a while, “when we are not permitted to perform our jobs, all deaths on Earth cease, but none of the injuries leading to them. People in immense suffering, all over the world, that would be cured by death, except…”

“All of them are cursed to live,” Martha finished her sentence, “and my father is one of them.”

The room went silent for a few seconds, before Tim came up behind Martha to hug her. “I’m sorry for your loss,” they spoke softly.

Within a few seconds, the other sisters got up and embraced her as well. Martha led the sobs engulf her for a few seconds, before gently pushing them aside.

“We have to fix this,” Martha spoke, “in the morning, we talk to the Council, no matter the cost. Until then, we have to help my father.”

“Sounds good,” Lachesis said.

The other four turned to look at her, expecting some sort of sarcastic commentary.

“You all know I’m not capable of sarcasm or lying,” Lachesis said, “I think it’s all we’ve got.”

And with that, they vanished from the inn room, leaving a hefty tip in gold for the housekeeper. They appeared inside a home that was in one sense familiar to Martha, and yet, in another sense, it felt like a lifetime since she had been in. In some regard, it was.

Her father sat in his armchair, staring blankly at her, gripping his chest and looking pale as sin. Though he made no movements, she could tell he was both conscious and in extreme pain. She rushed to his side, willing a soothing sensation to permeate through his body.

“Thank you,” he hoarsely wheezed, “I apologize for the hoarseness, my lungs have…mostly..stopped..working.”

Her mother rushed in, dropping the hot compress she was as she ran to hug her daughter. She then turned to her husband, who lifted his smile out of the grim gaze of rigor mortis as best as he could.

“How long?” he asked Martha, “how long…Martha?”

She looked at the walking corpse before her. How ironic that only now, in death, did he call her by her true name.

“We hope to solve this first thing in the morning,” Martha replied, “and given that it was night out where I was, that should be…”

“Right about now,” a sinister voice thundered behind her.