The thread of fate, the red thread of fate.
Evangeline had heard of it. Of course she had. The very first time she met Hades had been because of a book that spoke of it, its quiet promise of destined connections. He had even asked her to weave with red threads for him back then, his voice low as he spoke of how each person carried an invisible strand tied to their little finger, leading them, inevitably, to the one they were meant for.
"Threads of fate tell you whom your soul connects to, don't they?" she asked.
Across from her, Hyperion let out a soft hum as he settled into the corner of his seat, one arm draped lazily while his gaze flickered with mild amusement.
"It's one of their functions," he replied, "but not all."
