My body flipping between ages 40 and 60 is not inspiring.
The Fates have gone missing and their mother blames me. Why would she do that? They tell me what to do. It doesn’t work the other way around. In their absence, time has gone crazy. I’ve got to fix that problem before I can worry about searching for the missing Moirai.
And who knows? Maybe the Fates got tired and wanted a vacation. Gaia knows, I could certainly use one. But going to Tibet to throw myself off a mountain in order to find Shangri-la is not my idea of rest and relaxation. One man’s paradise is another’s prison, but I have to go there. I’m searching for the original Titan timekeeper—Father Time—to fix time in the Mortal Realm so I can work on the prophecy before I get too decrepit to care.