How Red Thread of Fate Mythology Weaves Its Way into My Next Book: Romance Meets History
While we're Assassin…ing over on Patreon, let's talk more about my #wip.
I love me a good prophecy.
Prophesies, soulmates, traditions, and lore.
::cough:: The Gatekeeper ::wink:
I also LOVE learning about other cultures, so let's dig a little bit into Mori and Michelle's story, shall we?
Michelle is a painfully shy museum archivist, but the meek persona is a fraud; she and her cousin, Latasha, come from a family of art thieves whose primary purpose is stealing to keep the art with those who have a vested interest in the history behind each piece.
This time, they are the vested interest.
Artifacts discovered on a dig by a school in London are 13th-century relics from the Swahili Coast. Relics that, according to family lore, come from their own ancestry.
Unfortunately, it's not just their ancestry.
Some of the artifacts discovered are believed to have belonged to Motohiro Masahi, a samurai who went missing during the 1st Mongol invasion of Japan. Moriyama Masahiko, the current oyabun of the Yakuza, is a direct descendant of that samurai, and he's determined to recover the lost remnants of his family lineage.
Yet, neither Mori nor Michelle knows just how connected they are by their ancestries, their lives intertwined by a red thread of fate.
Remember Jordan's story from Knight for a Queen?
Red Thread of Fate mythology talks about the thread that ties destinies together—a mythical string tied around the pinky finger. Michelle is a descendant of Princess Nyota of the Onoorwonne Empire, who is present the first time Motohiro washes up along the shores of her kingdom. Nyota is Swahili for star. Eventually, Motohiro comes to know her as "Jinsei," which is Japanese for life.
Obligatory disclaimer: As this is a WIP, the following is subject to change prior to publication.
Those warm, welcoming, kind eyes weren’t those of the man who’d confronted her that night in Tokyo. “Is that why you’re here?” she asked, voice hushed. “To try to recruit me?”
He raised an index finger. “At first, but I was so impressed by your resume that I decided to buy the museum to get the chance to work with you.”
The room collectively gasped.
Michelle nearly choked on hers.
“Mr. Nakamura and I finalized the purchase this morning.”
All went silent.
“What does that mean for us?” Deja asked.
“First of all, no one is losing their jobs,” he reassured the room. “But I will be implementing a few changes around here to help with the…visitor situation. There are too many beautiful relics here for them to go unseen, but the first change I’ll be making is to employee salaries. Right now, they're abysmal. Masahiko Incorporated can do better. So, starting from the next pay period, your paychecks will reflect a thirty percent annual salary increase.”
Michelle turned to the room, expecting cheers and whistles, but nearly everyone’s jaw was on the floor. However, once the news sank in, the cheers followed, combined with a round of applause, hugs, tears, and phone calls.
There was a reason this man had come to Corningshire all the way from Tokyo, and she refused to believe it solely had to do with her resume or to buy their tiny museum. Either he really had offered her a job that she’d turned down, assuming it was a scam because no one offered that kind of money over the phone, or he knew she was the one he captured that night. This was simply his insidious way of taking his revenge.
“I’ll be in town for a few months, finishing up the transition plan,” he went on. “For the time being, I haven’t seen all of the museum. I would like a tour.”
Deja stepped forward. “I would be happy—”
“Ms. Stewart?” Those dark eyes zeroed in on her. “If you’d do me the honor?”
“Um,” she nodded, “sure. Of course, sir…uh, Mr. Masahiko. Of course. Will, uh, Mr. Nakamura be, um—”
“Breathe.”
She inhaled and then released an unsteady breath.
“Satoshi’s going to stay behind. It’ll be just you and me, Ms. Stewart.” He gestured to the door. “After you.”
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