Standing on the mountaintop between two alabaster columns, gazing out at the world below, Destiny silently fumed. How dare Justice intervene? In all the centuries that they had feasted on humanity, why had she chosen now to Destiny of her meal? What game was she playing at?

"Fret not," Luck was lounging on the grass eating grapes, "is is for Father to decide what shall become of her. With each passing moment we draw night unto our ****."

"She is no gnat to be swatted," Destiny spat, "Our sister is mighty. Her mind is as potent as any power that was bestowed upon her. Our feast was denied, but to what purpose? Does she desire a greater duchy?"

"There is plenty of food," Luck said, eating another grape, "mortals are dripping with flavour, each seasoned with misfortune. One meal will not wound me. I only desire **** for her gall."

"I do hunger still!" Destiny stamped her foot, "This mortal was to be a long, slowly cooked feast of fated misery. To prepare such a delicacy is no small matter, and I shall be recompensed!"

Destiny turned and stared at her sister. How she could consume such disgusting things was beyond her comprehension. Mortal food grew in the dirt and filth. To truly be sustained, Destiny and Fate would need the mortals themselves, not their filthy seeds. It was their purpose, their destiny, to provide sustenance through their downfalls. They were little more than cattle.

"Father shall intercede..."

"In a time that suits him best!" Density was not having it, "I will not let this stand. This mortal shall be ours, and we will bathe in his anguish and sorrow. You must stand with me."

"But she has followed the precepts and overseen the trades."

"Her game is beyond our vision," Destiny said, stepping toward her lounging sister, "She will not be satisfied with one mortal. Mark my words, she has design for our kingdoms."

Luck sat up at that, fire in her eyes.

"She will not rest until Destiny, Luck, and all of creation serves Justice," Destiny pressed on.

Luck was on her feet without seeming to move. Her cold, gaunt hand grabbed Destiny by her neck and began to squeeze.

"No sister of mine shall take one scantling of my rule," Luck hissed.

"She already has," Destiny said, batting her sister's hand away, "in this mortal."

"Then we shall fight," Fate said, "and should Father join the fray, he will discover the my wrath."

"Mine as well," Destiny agreed, the hunger growing inside of her, but not for the ill of fate, but for ****.