The Eater of Destinies

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Chapter 1

He'd been complacent, trusting in human greed to smooth things over. But greed is a fickle thing, leading to the attack on the very person feeding it. And he had paid. Both in terms of the loss of some irreplaceable informants and in terms of the long gash running down his thigh, bleeding freely.
He spies a peasant, climbing up an embankment, carrying chickens for the market. He calls out for help, displaying a gold coin as proof of his solvency.
The farmer clambers down, a frown marking his otherwise honest face.
"Give me one of your chickens, mud hands.", the pain making his speech sharper than it is meant to be. The farmer's frown deepens at his tone and choice of words. But a gold coin is more than his dignity and he gives him one, without a word.
"Not this one. That one, in the corner."
"Them chicks be much like each other, fop. Ain't no difference twixt the twain.", the farmer opines.
"Not to your eyes, mayhaps. But that is the bird I want.", he stresses.
Not being one to argue with gold or the gentry, however unreasonable they may be, the farmer parts with his fowl and leaves.
"A king's supper, my feathered friend. A most fulfilling destiny as far as such things go for your kind. You will make a fine meal indeed."
He slits it's throat and leans back as it's life force is leached out and a destiny somewhere thwacks as it is cut short. That energy leaks out of the great loom and into him.
The cut heals itself, making him grunt against the pain.
His plans may have been cut short again, for better or for worse. But what use is immortality if not for the unlimited time he gains from it, to plan again. To rise from the mud of the embankment and try one more time for freedom.

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