Chapter Text
The Garden of Forking Ways is vast and winding, its paths surpassed in number only by the pages of his book. The paths diverge and branch and reconnect; some say not even Destiny himself truly knows where any will take you, where each twist and turn will lead. But one thing is known to be true. All that exists within the universe, be it god, monster, or man, must make their choices and walk their path. And with every step they take, Destiny is watching, for he is made from the fabric of fate. But every so often, something happens that takes the garden by storm, events and decisions beyond the reach of his book. Delirium for example, who was once Delight, was driven into madness by things that not even Destiny knew of. This had always unnerved him. A being of knowing and inevitability, things festering without his knowledge pushed back against the very nature of his being. For this reason, he was not fond of surprises. They were so rare, but they were cracks in his otherwise flawless purpose. So, when he stepped into the heart of the garden and looked upon the towering statues of his siblings, he froze. There was a flicker in his expression...confusion. Standing before him was a face he did not recognize, etched in cold stone. The other statues had shifted, their positions moving as if to make room for the new addition. Instinctively, his eyes flickered down to The Book of Destiny bound to his wrist. He read of the moment he'd just experienced, and the line that followed.
Destiny travels to his gallery and calls a meeting of The Endless
With one last glance at the strange new addition to his garden, Destiny did as the book foretold he would, and began making his way to the castle. The initial shock of the strange situation passed quickly, as Destiny knew that all would reveal itself in time. He gave no active thought to the reason for this strange event, Destiny did not know speculation, only truth. The book said it would happen, and thus it would be. His gallery rested deep within the walls of his castle, a stone hallway with grand painted portraits of the Endless along the walls. As he'd expected, there was a new portrait on the wall, one which shared a face with the new statue in his gallery. This confirmed one very strange thing, whomever this new individual was The Garden of Forking Ways and The Book of Destiny both welcomed them as a member of The Endless, which could only mean one thing. The reason for their meeting was clear. Somehow, they had a new sibling to meet.
❝ Death, I stand in my gallery and summon you. The family must convene with haste. ❞
Destiny spoke as he looked upon a portrait of his eldest sister. He saw her, as if peering through a pane of glass, holding the hand of a young girl. Beside them a panicked man climbed out of his car, stumbling as he walked. A broken bike lay in the road before him, and beside it, a broken body. Death, ignoring Destiny for the moment, regarded the child with a kindness that defined her. And when the time was right, she brought the child where she needed to be, the sound of her wings lingering in the air.
❝ Can't you see I'm at work? ❞ Death teased, now turning her attention towards Destiny, her brown eyes meeting his milky white. There was a softness to her gaze that he did not reciprocate, but she knew he loved her nonetheless. Destiny removed a hand from the rough binding of his book and held it out to her.
❝ Apologies sister, but I'm afraid it is very important. ❞ As small smile tugged at the edges of her mouth as she responded with a small nod. Their family meetings were rarely joyous occasions. The last resulted in Dream becoming burdened with the ownership of Hell, and the one prior was the last time any of them (outside of Dream and Delirium) saw their dear brother. Destiny stepped back from the painting of his sister, allowing her to step through. And, to his pleasure, her choice of attire was as formal as he could expect from her.
❝ I suppose there wont be any clues about the reason behind our meeting… ❞ Death prodded, though she knew the answer before it was spoken. Destiny held knowledge like a precious little thing in the palm of his hand, and only shared when the moment was right. She knew this, and respected it, but asking was no less fun. But to her surprise, he did not respond with one of his vague or dismissive comments, he simply gestured towards the end of the hall, where a new painting hung. It was a face she did not recognize and, much like Destiny, this was unnerving. For she was there at the death and birth of all things, she knew all names and faces, and one day they would all know hers. But whomever this person was, they had been born without her knowledge. Death resisted the urge to ask more questions, as even she knew that all things would be revealed in time.
❝ Well then, I guess we better call the others. ❞
In due time, Destiny had called all of his siblings to his gallery. It hadn't been long since the last time they convened, which was perhaps the most alarming aspect of their meeting. They’d expected at least another millennia to pass before another gathering of this nature occurred, Dreams' little trip to Hell had hardly been two years past. Though the abnormality of this was soon washed away by the sight of Destiny’s gallery, and the new painting that hung there. Soon the hall became a storm of intense debate and discussion, each sibling offering their theories for the strange development.
❝ Perhaps they want to sell us something. I've heard that door-to-door salesmen can be quite persistent. ❞ Delirium offered in her usual spacey tone, a bit of childlike frustration flickering across her face when she realized that no one was taking her idea seriously. But their argument was cut short by Destiny, who stepped up to the new painting and spoke.
❝ Sibling, I stand in my gallery and summon you. We have much to speak about. ❞
There followed silence and stillness. Bust Destiny did not speak again to beckon them forth, he knew there was no need. Soon the face of the painting began to cry, tears of blood flowing forth. Then there was a hand, pushing against the painting as if it were plastic. The silence of the room was soon filled with the sickening sound of bones moving in ways they should not and the ripping of flesh. Then a figure pushed through, blood pooling at their feet.
❝ Hello... ❞