Deep in the underworld, in a pocket of reality not all that affected by the goings on of gods and monsters three sisters watched. They had only just returned from their touch with reality and they had only just stowed away the glowing pearl of power that looked like nothing so much as a miniature moon in a small lacquered box. Now they sat, leaning over a cylix of wine, the dark surface reflecting a scene, coloring the scene bloody. A truck moved, barreling through the underworld towards the palace that was at the heart of the realm. It was the drama inside the truck that held the attention of the sisters. One by one they lifted their eyes from the scene and met the eyes of the others.
“She has mingled of her own volition.”
“She has tangled herself up in their affairs.”
“She is making choices on her own.”
They fell silent again, their eyes dropping to the wine dark scene again; hands not idle on their laps. Their hands rested, the backs along their thighs, palms up as their fingers busily worked, seemingly rolling reality like one would thread from a drop-spindle. The thread they all seemed to be working on was a mess, lumpy and tangled and uneven but it glowed with the soft gold that spoke of godhood.
“Ahh” said one, Lachesis. “this is where the trouble is.”
She held up a measure of the chord, and in the middle was a burr in the thread, where others tangled up with it, just after the tangle there was a break, where but a few strands of this thread remained intact. One strand in particular was pulling at the thread, a sharp angle that seemingly put more tension on the weak part than it had any right to bear. The thread looked past ready to snap.
“Perhaps the usefulness of this bond has passed.” Suggested Atropos as she licked her lips and peered at the offending strand, her fingers frighteningly still just then.
“It seems this is the case,” said Clotho, her eyes skimming the knot that preceded the trouble, reading things into it that the others couldn’t see.
“Well then sister, would you set things to rights?” asked Lachesis.
Apropos moved like a wolf spider spotting prey, all speed and cruel efficiency. She struck and there was a ringing note that rang out into their pocket of reality, the echoes of which pushed into the rest of reality. Two strands, held together by the thinnest of filaments were suddenly parted. Two goddesses, riding in that very truck that had held the sisters’ attention felt the strike. They felt it as a white hot pain and then part of themselves, a part that had been there for ages, but hadn’t been born with them was gone. The one laying in the back, the one to whom the gray fade whispered the loudest suddenly felt as if a great tension were gone. Her thread, once held taut by the pull of the bond now lay limp and loose with much give. Her fate was suddenly more her own.