The tips of my fingers, even my nails in their beds, were glacier blue despite the hot, dry autumn air. They ached and throbbed as I pumped water into a kettle and prickled as I carried it back inside and hung it over the fire. Nothing but death would bring them back to life at this point. I wrapped my icy fingers around my middle and waited patiently for her to arrive. She was almost here, thankfully. I had important business to see to today, but the two readings Fate demanded would take precedence. I took out the tea leaves and piled a heap on the counter, then sat three saucers behind them. To the witches I read for, they probably looked nearly identical, but each had its own markings and secrets only it could reveal. Today was my birthday, and my power and I were now considered mature. Fate, I knew all too well, was real. He wasn’t an obscure concept of destiny, or a dream of what the future might hold. And he certainly wasn’t luck or a wishing well. He was sentient and very much alive. I was Fate’s daughter, and he lived inside me. As a child, he was gentle with his demands, but today there was no gentleness left in him. His easy whispers turned to shouts, and lately, his nudges of guidance had become harsh shoves. Fate shoved me now, evidenced by my icy, dying fingers and the stiffness settling into my joints, but I had learned to push back. He almost always listened when I promised to do as he wanted in time, but today, he was impatient. He wanted a man to swing from the gallows, and for me to hang him there. I wanted to hang him there, to be honest. I wanted the needle-sharp pain to go away, to be able to extend my bones, and for the feeling to fully return to the parts that felt numb. The only thing holding me back was the fact that no crime had been committed yet. I always checked first to be sure. Fate warned me that an offense would happen, and that if I waited, whatever occurred would upset every witch in The Gallows, but I refused to hang someone when there existed the tiniest chance the offender might choose a different path. And I was a firm believer that until a line was crossed, there was hope. Fate… felt differently.