The Scales of Fate
Evelyn Bradford had always been obsessed with control. As an aspiring historian and scholar, she believed that if you studied hard enough, if you could anticipate every outcome, nothing in life could surprise you. So when she came across an ancient text buried deep within the archives of the university library, she knew it would be the key to mastering her future.
The text was older than anything she had ever studied—written in a dead language, with symbols that looked like they had been scrawled by trembling hands. It was titled The Scales of Fate and spoke of a mystical artifact, long lost to time, that could tip the balance of destiny in the user's favor. The legend was vague, but it promised something she had always craved: control over her own fate.
After months of research, Evelyn found the artifact hidden beneath the ruins of an ancient temple, far from prying eyes. The journey was treacherous, but the promise of power drove her forward. When she finally laid eyes on it, she was awestruck. The artifact was a small, intricately carved bronze scale, one side shaped like a claw, the other like a feather. It radiated an unnatural warmth.
The instructions in the ancient text were clear: place something of value on the scale, and in return, you could alter the course of fate—bend time and events to your will. The catch? It didn’t mention what the cost was.
Back in her small apartment, Evelyn wasted no time. She placed a silver coin, an old family heirloom, on the scale. It tipped slightly, the feathered side sinking down. Nothing happened at first, and she felt a wave of disappointment.
But then, the air around her shifted. She felt it—an undeniable change. The next day, her academic advisor, who had always been cold and dismissive of her work, suddenly praised her latest research and offered her a coveted spot in an elite fellowship. It was a shift so dramatic that it couldn’t be a coincidence. She had bent fate to her will.
Thrilled by the power, Evelyn began using the scale more frequently. Each time, the results were immediate and remarkable. She aced exams without studying, secured rare grants, and even manipulated the outcomes of personal relationships. The scale seemed to answer every one of her desires.
But then, the changes started.
It was subtle at first—a strange rash on her hand where she had touched the artifact. The skin became rougher, the texture shifting from smooth to scaly. Evelyn brushed it off, telling herself it was nothing. But as the days went on, the rash spread, creeping up her arm and across her shoulder. The once small patch of scales thickened, becoming harder, more pronounced.
Alarmed, she consulted doctors, but no one could diagnose the condition. The transformation wasn’t just cosmetic. Her skin itched constantly, and sharp pains shot through her joints. Soon, her right hand was entirely covered in thick, reptilian scales, the fingers stiff and hard to move. She wrapped her arm in long sleeves and gloves, trying to hide the grotesque change from the world, but deep down she knew what was happening.
The cost.
Every time she altered fate, the scales on her body grew more pronounced, as though the artifact was marking her, claiming her. But even then, she couldn’t stop. The hunger for control, for power, was too great. She convinced herself she could find a way to undo it, that if she just tipped fate one last time, she could set everything right.
In desperation, she placed another item of value on the scale—this time her mother’s wedding ring. The artifact tipped heavily, the claw side sinking low. She wished for an end to her transformation, for the curse to be lifted.
But fate is cruel.
As the scale tipped, the pain in her body became unbearable. She collapsed to the floor, writhing as the scaly rash spread, faster than ever. Her legs stiffened, her spine bent unnaturally, and she could feel her bones twisting under her skin. The more she tried to scream, the more her voice became a guttural hiss.
She scrambled to destroy the artifact, but her hands were no longer human. The scales had reached her face, her vision blurring as her pupils narrowed into slits. Her reflection in the mirror was monstrous—a creature more lizard than woman.
Then it hit her. The artifact had never been a tool for bending fate—it was a trap, a device that demanded a transformation with each use. Every time she tipped the scales, she had been tipping her humanity away, trading it piece by piece for her desires.
Desperate and panicked, she hurled the scale across the room, but it was too late. The changes were irreversible.
The days passed, and Evelyn’s apartment fell silent. Her colleagues and friends called, but there was no answer. When they finally broke down the door, they found the apartment empty—except for a strange, scaly creature huddled in the corner, its yellow eyes staring blankly, as if lost in some incomprehensible fate.
The bronze scale lay abandoned on the floor, waiting for the next soul foolish enough to believe they could control destiny.
Fate, it seemed, had always been in control.
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