My eyes snap open, and the voices stop.
They know they’ve got me.
I don’t even think about what I’m doing as my feet move me. The voices lead me to Tartarus. The ground feels like gravel under my feet, and the farther I get into the passageway, the less I can smell the comforting banks of Acheron and the more I can smell something close to burning flesh. But I don’t care; I need to get there.
I see the flickering redness of the flames and feel the heat long before I round the corner of the tunnel, and when I do come around, the river is on fire. A name rings out in my head from deep in my memories. Phlegethon. The river of fire leading to Tartarus. I tie my hair into a knot, hoping to keep any stray flames from catching it. My mind screams at me to turn around. To run to the comfort of Shayne’s home. But I need answers, and Tartarus seems willing to give them to me.
Like the other rivers, the dock extends into the water, but here it is surrounded yet untouched by flames. I want to turn and run, to get away from the flames at all cost, but the voices beckon. I step forward, forcing myself to move until I’m on the hard wood of the dock. The flames hiss up over the sides of my sandals as I walk on the wood, but somehow they don’t burn me. I wrap my arms around my middle and step into the waiting boat, and before I can change my mind and turn around and leave, it begins to move, and I’m out in the middle of the river of fire.
Burning souls. I know Phlegethon is an initiation into the place of eternal torture. The flames taunt me, but why they don’t touch me, I’m not sure. Even my curly hair seems safe tied up at my neck.
As I move across the burning river, the voices start up again. I open my mind and let them in, wishing I could make the boat move faster. Tartarus holds my answers. I’m as sure of it as I am that there are questions. And that secrets have been kept from me my entire life.
I miss the voices, too. I’ve never known them, but I miss them. They are a part of me. And I wonder if I do belong in Tartarus like Minos said. If I did kill a phoenix.
The boat seems to be on fire as it moves on. The wood is red hot like the embers in Shayne’s hearth, and around me, sparks crackle. But the heat doesn’t harm me, and soon, it’s carried me to the dock on the other side. Ahead, all I see is a wall of flames, and for a second, my stomach tightens, and I wonder what I’m doing. Nothing good happens in Tartarus.
A single voice calls out, and I know it. I can’t place it, but it’s drawing me, pulling me through the wall of flames. I close my eyes and walk forward, and then I’m on the other side and immediately the smell of rot and filth hits my nose. I force myself to take a deep breath, and my stomach lurches until I’m on my knees heaving up nothing but bile and emptiness since I’ve been asleep for over a day.
When I stand up, I wipe my mouth on my bare arm and look around. A desert stretches before me, and I start walking straight, knowing I’ll end up somewhere soon. Somewhere besides the rancid smelling barrenness surrounding me.
I walk for miles, and the desert moves by in fast forward, the same way it did in Asphodel, except there’s nothing to see around here, and soon I begin to doubt myself. The voices have left me, and there’s not a soul around. Maybe I should turn and go back.
The voice comes out of nowhere, and I shift right, moving in the direction I know it’s coming from. Its promises make the ball in my stomach tingle, and with one step after another, I’m soon approaching a mountain range with a medieval castle high on the top. It’s where I need to go.
I start toward the mountain, taking another mouthful of the rot around me, and force myself to take breath after breath until my stomach no longer lurches. But as I take my first step, something grabs my foot from behind, sending me flying face first to the hard-packed sand.
I kick with the other foot, and look down, seeing a skeleton hand clenched around my Achilles tendon. Another hand pops out of the earth and grabs at my leg, and they pull me until I’m up to my knee in the gritty sand. A wave of panic rolls over me when I realize I can’t even kick my leg anymore. The hands grasp harder, and sharp pieces of bone cut into my flesh. I lift my head and spit out the sand in my mouth and try to grab my leg and pull it out myself. They’re cutting and clawing and more than anything, I wish Shayne were here with me. But he doesn’t even know I’m down here in Hell. Not to mention in Tartarus. And I can’t tell him, or he’ll take me away, and I’ll never get my answers.
“Let go!” I scream when I realize I’m thigh deep in the sand. I’m going to suffocate, and no one will ever even know where I’ve been. I can imagine my body hidden beneath the sand forever in Hell.
But at my words, the skeleton hands obey me and let go. I twist around until I’ve yanked my leg free then get up and run for the mountain, trying to get off the deadly desert. Sand is caked on my sweaty face, and I claw it off as I run. I will not die before I get my answers. I need to know what Shayne knows. Whether he wants to tell me or not.
I’m halfway up the mountain when I see a naked man with shoulders so wide, I’m sure he could pick me up and snap me like a dehydrated stick given a chance. But I have no intention of giving him a chance. He’s standing there on the mountainside supporting a boulder nearly as large as he is with only his sheer mass holding it in place.
I move around to the side, trying to hide behind a large pile of boulders. Like my Earth above, there aren’t any bushes or shrubs around. Too much heat must kill them off down here, also. From my vantage point, I see the sweat pouring down his dark naked body, tracing patterns through his hairy chest, and my chest tightens when I realize I have no way to get around him unseen. I’ll have to wait for him to move.
“Come out and play with me.”
His voice is not at all what I’m expecting. Actually, I’m not expecting his voice, but had I been, the sweet, melodic tune is so unfitting the massive man, I don’t even try to pretend I haven’t heard. I lift my head slowly above the rock pile and see the man is looking my way. His face is covered with a smile so inviting, I find my legs carrying me around from my hiding place and over to him.
“Lovely. Simply lovely.”
Heat floods my face when I realize he’s talking about me. He turns sideways, propping his boulder up with the side of his body, and I can now see his genitals hanging there between his legs.
He chuckles, and I lift my eyes, realizing I’ve been staring directly at them. But my eyes keep trying to look back down as if they’ve got a mind of their own. I pull them away against their will.
“It’s okay to look.” He shifts, and I catch a glimpse out of my peripheral vision. “I don’t mind at all.” And he reaches down and holds his penis, cradling it in his hand.
“I’m only here to get some answers.” I point toward the top of the mountain, happy to have something to focus on besides his private parts. “I’m heading up there.”
“Ah.” The man laughs again, and I hear the melody pulling me in.
“Do you know who lives there?” I ask. I’m still looking at the castle, and this close, I can see the orange and purple storm clouds swirling overhead and the lightning striking so close, it must be hitting the stones.
“The master of Hell, of course.” The man wipes his forehead and blessedly turns away from me. “Do you mind if we get going? I still have to get this boulder to the top.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he leans over, places both hands on the black rock, and begins to push.
“Do you mean Sha—” I catch myself, “—Hades?”
The man barks out a laugh followed by a huge grunt. The vein on his temple nearest me bulges out so far, I think it might burst. “Not that master.” And for the first time, his tone has a hint of disgust in it.
“Then who?”
He turns to me, holding the boulder in place while his eyes gaze my way. But he’s still smiling. “You know.”
It’s not a question. He knows I know. And I realize when he says it I do. “Aeacus.” Another of the ancient kings ruling over the domains of the Underworld.
