Kratos examined one thread after another. The tangled skein proved too complex for him to identify any single strand of fate as his own.

Furious, Kratos drew his swords and began hacking away. Even the slenderest of threads proved impervious to the Blades of Athena. The Rage of the Titans powered his next cut. Nothing happened but a tiny vibration along one minuscule thread. He started to use brute force to continue what might be an exhausting attempt, then stopped.

He remembered how the Warrior of Destiny had fallen and how he, Kratos, had retrieved the Warrior’s weapon. The Warrior had been sent by the Fates. His weapon had to belong to their arsenal.

Kratos drew forth the Spear of Destiny and held it high over his head. Before it had shone with an inner blue-white light. No longer. Every color and hue he had ever imagined flared within the crystalline spear now. Gripping its shaft, he swung it around and drew its spearhead against an arm-thick cable of woven fates.

The threads severed cleanly, easily. The ends whipped about like things alive. Kratos heard cries that rose, filled the entire Loom Chamber. He could not tell if they were of joy or fear, sorrow or release. No longer were these souls bound to a destiny the Sisters of Fate had decreed.

He began cutting the threads, using the Spear of Destiny. With every thread he cut, the crystal spear glowed brighter and more colorful.

Wantonly slashing now, every thread he found was cut. The sounds from those attached to the far end of the threads rose in his ears, like a wave breaking against a gentle shore. The faster he chopped, the louder the sound, until a full-blown storm might be smashing against an unseen rocky point.

When he cut one bundle of threads, he felt suddenly weak and a sound like those he heard escaped his lips. Kratos grabbed at one thread of the purest ebony and held it. His heart threatened to explode.

This was his destiny. He held it in his own hands.

God of War II, Chapter 48