“WHAT HAPPENED?” Atropos shrieked in frustration. “You were supposed to remove him!”

“Kratos?” Lahkesis waved off her sister. “He might have destroyed my statue, but that doesn’t matter. Alrik will stop him in the Bog of the Forgotten.”

“Oh?” Atropos stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at her sister. “How do you think that is going to happen?”

“What do you mean? Alrik has been a faithful servant, if a foolish one. He thinks we will examine his plight and save him. Ares gave Kratos the weapons and strength to smash him. There is no reason to give Alrik any new audience.” Lahkesis laughed lightly. “There is no reason, since he does our bidding without ever demanding that we do anything for him.”

“You think Alrik will stop Kratos?”

“What is wrong, dear sister?” Lahkesis was beginning to feel a touch of anger at the way Atropos was acting. “Did one of your strands of fate break? You always put so much effort into making each perfect.”

“Perfect,” Atropos said bitterly. “You should pay half the attention to your work that I do. If you did, you would know.”

Lahkesis spun and stared at Atropos. No words came to her lips.

“That’s right,” Atropos said. “Kratos not only fought the dead men-at-arms from Alrik’s army but he fought Alrik all mounted on his fine, prancing warhorse. He sent them all back down the hole into Hades’ arms.”

“Kratos killed Alrik? Again? But I—that wasn’t supposed to happen.” She felt a passing dizziness. This was not the way her well-spun thread of fate should have played out. Kratos destroying her statue had been a surprise, but she had examined how she had cast his fate and saw nothing to preserve the statue. She had warned him.

Lahkesis reached out to pluck one hair-thin string determining the fate of both mortal and god after another until she found the proper one. Kratos’ thread was a different texture. Lahkesis held down her anger directed at her sister. Atropos had meddled in what should have been a diverting fate. Kratos had always been a special favorite of hers because he did the unexpected—but he had always ended up fulfilling the fate she had decreed.

Not now.

Stroking the strand, smoothing the lumpy sections, tugging a bit, she worked to determine the proper fate.

“You play with him. End his life now.” Atropos made cutting motions with her talons as she glared at her sister.

“I have. Zeus killed him. Only Gaia’s tampering with his destiny rescued him from Hades. That will not happen again. I assure you of that.”

“As you thought you had taken care of the matter in your temple?”

“I toy with him for my own amusement, nothing more,” Lahkesis said. “And it is not my fault Alrik failed. Did you spin his thread?”

“No,” Atropos said. The Sisters stared at each other. “Do you think Clotho decreed that Kratos return Alrik to the Underworld?”

“Why would she?” Lahkesis thought hard on this matter. She was capable of seeing the interaction of thousands of intersecting destinies and keeping them straight—or knotting them permanently, although the thread of Gaia had been increasingly difficult to cope with.

In the past, the thread had been an earthen color, tinted with greens, but recently she had tried to trace the thread—immediately after Clotho spun it—and found the task difficult. The thread had become slippery and difficult to sever. On impulse she had sliced through, only to find that her shears had passed through as if cutting mud. An attempt to re-form had been unproductive. Moreover, Atropos had come into her chamber on some errand or another, and she had hidden her attempt at the slicing.

But how had the thread become so insubstantial? Clotho’s skills were unquestioned. Could Atropos have meddled once more where she had no business? Her sister increasingly intruded, as if spying.

Lahkesis worried that Atropos would find her thoughtless decision to send the Warrior of Destiny against Kratos. A valued ally had been defeated. Was Clotho interfering? Weren’t there enough mortals, gods, and, yes, even Titans, to keep Clotho and Atropos busy? Lahkesis’ resentment grew that the burden of untangling the skeins of fate fell to her and her alone.

“She might have seen how badly you handled Kratos and thought to put it right. End his life now, Lahkesis. He has gone too far. The Steeds of Time. Your temple has been desecrated. Alrik. End the thread now.”

Lahkesis felt her hackles rise.

“Who are you to tell me what to do? I know how to spin destinies. Better than you or Clotho!”

“Should I do your chore?” Atropos reached for Kratos’ thread of fate.

Lahkesis jerked it away from her sister’s groping fingers. Atropos lacked imagination and would only put an end to Kratos in a way sure to create ripples along other strands. Such a disturbance might take years to resolve.

“I’ll do it. He will never reach us, sister. He will be stopped at the Temple of Euryale.”

“You are sure?”

“You insult me and my skill, dear sister.” Lahkesis made no effort to keep the sarcasm from her voice. Clever fingers plucked at Kratos’ fate. Gorgon heads. Skeletons. The key. There would be no possible way for Kratos to avoid his fate now. None.