Chapter forty-eight
The naughty Styx
Lady Persephone repeatedly struck her scepter onto the ground, and as the mist dissipated, they skidded to a halt.
In the vicinity stood a ferocious-looking hound, its three trendously ugly heads swung in vigilance, blood ran down from its mouth, and bones lay scattered over the rusty gate. Its beady, macabre eyes bulge red, glowing faintly in the eerie darkness.
Its rough tail was pricked with spikes extending from its rear to the tip, where a venomous prickle akin to that of a scorpion protruded nacingly at them.
It was unequivocally Cerberus, the Hellhound.
Lady Persephone clapped her hands firmly, yet the hellhound disregarded her. It roared in fury, causing the ground to tremble beneath its crawling paws. Its mouth gaped wide, fangs erging from its thin lips amidst a pool of what Elizabeth was fairly certain was saliva—dripping in filthy scarlet fluid—flowing to the ground and beyond.
It lunged forward, kicking up dirt along its path, its fangs bared, and dashed toward them.
Lady Athena, with a slight frown, raised her arrow, drew her bow, and released her shot with a bang at the hellhound. The creature ducked and skidded across the slippery ground, growing even more enraged.
It snarled, its blood-stained fangs glinting under the flickering torchlight. Lady Persephone drew her spear and charged. She thrust it toward the hellhound, aiming for its eyes, but it rolled over, causing the spear to turn over and soar back into Lady Persephone’s waiting hand.
Elizabeth drew her dagger, and as the enraged hellhound leaped into the air, Elizabeth stabbed the blade into its body. Warm blood stread underneath it as the hellhound landed flat on top of Elizabeth.
Elizabeth trembled and collapsed to the ground.
Her dagger dropped to the ground in a clutter.
Crawling over her chest, it snarled again.
Elizabeth, trembling uncontrollably beneath the filthy beast, could feel its heavy, nasty breath puffed over her face, and blood dripping to her cheeks, sliding to the ground.
She stared, her eyes bulging as the sharp fangs twirled in front of her, and sank deep into her skin. Elizabeth could hear Lady Athena scream sowhere above her as blood trickled down her neck, dripping to the ground where a red flower blossod over the puddle of crystal water beyond.
Excruciating pains seared over her; her entire body convulsed against the cold, hard ground as her face contorted in agony, her cheeks and neck now drenched in blood.
Agonized, Elizabeth scread. She raised her hands shakily, trying to do sothing, yet the hellhound was pretty determined to get her killed once and for all. Its claws cut into Elizabeth’s forearms, and dark liquid oozed out from the deep gush. Elizabeth felt a sudden emptiness since getting bitten by a hellhound was no joke; she felt life was slipping away from her fingertips, so near yet she found it hard to stop, even to slow it down, even for a second.
Beside her, Lady Athena was striking at the hellhound, though it didn’t seem to work out. Lady Persephone had her palms aloft and was murmuring incantations Elizabeth couldn’t figure out.
She thought about how her friends, at the other side of the world, were still waiting, anxiously, for her to get back ho safely; that’s all Veronica had ever wanted. Yet Elizabeth found it hard to keep herself alive, even to keep struggling; her breath was fading away, her mind went buzzing madly, consciousness was slipping away, yet she could do nothing.
No, she’d never thought her end would be like this.
And she definitely didn’t want to be eaten by Hade’s hellhound.
She could feel the venomous fangs digging into her skin, spilling more blood.
Yet when she thought things couldn’t get any better, she heard that voice again, “Hold on, my darling.” A crisp voice echoed through the depths of her soul.
Elizabeth raised her head loftily, and she could feel sothing making its way out of her body.
A glassy figure rose from the gush over her temple and soared overhead.
It twirled in midair ahead of her and shot out a dazzling light that knocked the hellhound over.
Both Lady Athena and Lady Persephone were montarily startled, yet quickly regained their composure, summoning a beam of golden light that flickered over their palms and blended with the transparent figure.
Within seconds, an elegant woman took form ahead of Elizabeth, unmistakably the Goddess Freya.
The door opened—a silent creak muted in the hush of the night, as if the very air was holding its breath. Lucius, with an air of purpose, led Penelope into the opaque darkness, where shadows danced under the watchful gaze of a myriad of stars.
He carried a tray laden with large, glistening jars that reflected the celestial light, their contents shifting subtly as if alive. Penelope followed closely behind, her heart racing.
“Penelope.” Lucius stopped abruptly, pivoting to face her, his eyes sharp and intent.
“Yeah?” she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, as the weight of the mont pressed down upon her.
“Listen up,” he breathed, the urgency in his tone slicing through the night air. “We are here with a task.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piquing despite the gnawing sense of foreboding settling in the pit of her stomach.
“We collect random mories abandoned by others.” Lucius’s voice dropped further, weaving an intimate thread between them amidst the vast emptiness surrounding.
“The only way you can get out of here—you have to get out of here—they—well, nothin’.” The last part trailed off, leaving a chasm of uncertainty hanging in the air.
Goddess Freya waved swiftly, and a bolt of lightning zapped out from her fingertips, lingered in midair, and stabbed the hellhound right in the middle.
It howled in agony, staggering backwards, and fell over onto the ground.
Elizabeth’s contorted face relaxed a bit.
She tried to hoist herself up, yet her elbow gave way.
Though drenched in blood, she drew her face into a feverish smile. Freya bead back at her.
Suddenly, the hellhound bounced off the ground and shot toward Elizabeth, its sharp claws fell over Elizabeth’s neck, and sliced her throat.
Elizabeth’s eyes bulged, her scream was cut off as the hard crunch of her head hit the solid ground echoed within the cave, blackish blood ran down the corner of her lips, her eyes still open wide.
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Lady Athena and Lady Persephone gasped; they stared. Goddess Freya twirled her wrist, and aromatic lights swirled within her palms.
Another shot of dazzling light escaped from Elizabeth’s lifeless body and hung in midair.
The ghost of Goddess Frigga erged from the bloody mist.
She bent down, wiped the loose hair with a napkin, and pressed her lips against hers.
She then straightened up, flipped her palms over swiftly, and the dried blood that stained the ground began to rejuvenate. Blackish liquid was sared by bright scarlet, gurgling lively on the floor, and flowed toward the gush over her chest. Reddish, fresh blood was sucked back into her body. The scarlet flower dipping into the ground was fading, and the deep cut was healing, trailing off into fair skin that once again revealed over her torn sleeves. Gradually, color returned to her cheeks, her eyelids flickered, breath returned to her body, and Elizabeth opened her eyes once again, this ti, fairly alive.
She stumbled over, hoisting herself up by her elbow, and her eyes fell upon the two goddesses sitting and praying beside her.
She scrambled upwards and found herself lost for words.
“Thanks.” She whispered faintly.
“It's Goddess Frigga, in the na of the Styx.” Replied Lady Persephone briskly.
They walked past the hellhound’s body and entered the Underworld.
Narrow pathways illuminated by flickering torchlights directed them toward the interior. A dark lake encircled the inner cave, boiling with a murky liquid, while blackish mists hung in the air, and the Styx’s waters circled the Underworld. Not far away, Charon the Ferryman, stood by his ragged boat at the Styx’s edge, clutching bags of gold and silver. Countless ghost-beggars lingered within the cave, their silvery shadows shimring faintly. Stalactites and stalagmites shimred overhead, and dark silhouettes of various objects flickered and fluttered across the river. Lady Persephone handed Charon a bag of gold, which she had retrieved from her pockets.
Elizabeth noticed Charon was a centaur, with its hind legs tapping the ground, its horse body glistened in the darkness.
Swishing its tail, Charon let them onto the boat.
The boat floated across the peaceful surface of the Styx, the moonlit stones sparkled along the edges, and only the splashes of the paddles were audible.
Elizabeth suddenly found her eyes drawn to the shiny ripples across the Styx. She bent over and lowered her finger to the surface. It felt thick and sticky, darkish liquids wrapped around her fingers as if alive, which Elizabeth spent minutes frantically trying to free her hands.
Luckily, Lady Persephone ca over to check what was going on. Upon seeing this, she sprinkled so powder over the liquid, and it loosened the grip on Elizabeth’s finger.
“The Styx need fresh blood to keep on flowing; you don’t co over and give it a temptation.” Lady Athena cut in, stroking Elizabeth’s hair tenderly.
Suddenly, the boat gave a trendous yank and pulled over to the other end.
Charon climbed out of the boat and spun on his heels. Gently, he gave his hands to the goddesses and helped them to disembark.
He then clutched the paddle with a sudden, fierce intensity, tilting the boat as if it were a fragile leaf caught in a tempest, sending it precariously to one side.
In an instant, Elizabeth was cast into the deep, treacherous waters of the Styx in an instant. Choking mist raised above the water, enveloping her like a shroud, blurring her vision.
Panic coursed through her veins. as she realized the peril she faced—the thick, murky liquid twisted and writhed, curled around, cocooning her in its sinister embrace. Frantically, she thrashed her arms, paddling through the liquid, desperate to reach the distant glimr of the shoreline that seed to shimr like a mirage.
Yet, as if a noose, the shadowy waters tightened around her neck with each desperate stroke, gripped her with force and dragging her deeper into their darkened abyss. Each gagging breath beca difficult as the water gushed into her lungs, cutting off her air, and her vision blurred as blood rushed to her head.
The shimring liquid contorted and twisted, gradually morphing into the fearso monster Scylla.
At first glance, she may have appeared as an alluring woman—her delicate features frad by cascading locks of hair that glimred like spun gold under the dim light. Her srizing eyes sparkled with an allure that belied the danger lurking beneath the surface. However, the illusion was shattered below her waist, where instead of graceful legs, six fierce dogs roared to life, their snarls a chilling symphony of nace.
Each beast was sinewy, their coats were matted and wild, muscles rippling beneath the surface as they snarled nacingly, their fur bristling with primal energy, while focused eyes glinted ominously in the light. The air filled with a cacophony of barks and growls, sharp teeth flashing like daggers, ready to unleash chaos at their mistress's command.
They charged toward Elizabeth, the dogs roared in delight, their teeth tearing her body, tasting the fresh blood, and licking at the flesh.
Elizabeth stumbled forward, her heart racing as she pierced the heavy air with her dagger, aiming at the woman before her, her dagger gleaming faintly in the dim light. The blade went right through the Scylla’s body as if erging from clear mist, and flew back into her hands.
But in an instant, the dark, swirling liquid around her erupted into a chaotic twist, shifting and roiling as it birthed the dreaded figure of Charybdis.
The colossal beast lood ahead, spinning in a frenzied dance just inches from her, its cavernous mouth gaping wide, in it was an abyss, lined with a forest of razor-sharp teeth that glistened ominously, stained with the remnants of blood and flesh.
The long, slick tongue within writhed grotesquely, shimring sharp teeth bestowed along the surface, dribbling with a foul, viscous substance, the stench of decay wafting through the air—a nauseating reminder of the many lives it had claid.
Panic gripped Elizabeth as the liquid tightened its grip, drawing her toward the gaping maw filled with death. The dread of being devoured again chilled her to the core; death was not an option she was willing to face once more.
With instinct kicking in, she drove her dagger into the swirling chaos, feeling the liquid’s grasp around her waist weaken ever so slightly.
Summoning every ounce of strength, she fought against the darkness, kicking and thrashing her way toward the shore. The sharp teeth sank rcilessly into her forearms, and she felt a fluid warmness drenched over her body, just seconds before excruciating pain struck her. Her head swung in dizziness, blood soaking her shirt, it was hard for her to stay calm.
Just when she thought she would be lost to the depths, Lady Persephone appeared, her strong hands clasping Elizabeth's arm and yanking her from the clutches of the treacherous river.
Breathless and shaking, Elizabeth threw a glance back, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum.
Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched in awe as the monstrous form of Charybdis began to dissolve, its terrifying visage lting into the River Styx like a dark illusion evaporating at dawn. The swirling chaos transford into re ripples, leaving behind only a chaotic splash of liquid that vanished into the depths.
Elizabeth lay near shore, below the waist, now shown as a blur of flesh and blood.
She touched her bloody legs. Suddenly, from the point where her fingertips touched, the oozing blood drained off, the reddish flesh rose overhead and dissolved into thin air, and new skin regenerated across her legs, strength glided into her body, and her consciousness slid back. Fully rejuvenated, she straightened up by her elbow shakily.
And out of the corner of her eyes, she stared at Charon, and welled up with hatred.
With newfound vigor, she was prepared to strike the centaur, sending him flying across the lake with a hard crash—and she did just that.
After dispatching Charon, they proceeded further inward. Lady Persephone led them to Hades’ chamber and snapped her fingers to extinguish the light. Unexpectedly, an iridescent glow emanated and swirled from the obsidian chandelier overhead, forming shimring shapes in midair. Lady Persephone snapped her fingers again, sending a lightning bolt crackling from her fingertips that struck through the swirling lights. An earsplitting explosion echoed across the room, bouncing from wall to wall, and amidst the mist, a glistening mirror erged.
Lady Persephone knocked three tis on the mirror’s surface, causing it to tremble.
“In you go,” she said with a smile.
Lucius then gestured for Penelope to follow as he ascended toward a cliff that lood above, a silhouette against the sparkled canopy of the night. Penelope felt her pulse quicken as she followed.
Dazzling stars spiraled overhead, teors gliding gracefully like whispers of ancient divinity across the velvety sky. Yet, as beautiful as they were, an ominous pulse echoed with each flash, resonating with her unease.
Lucius pointed at the shooting stars, a hint of reverence in his voice.
“My dear, they are not re stars—they are mories and thoughts people forget about.”
The weight of his words wrapped around her like a heavy cloak, tightening with their implications. He knelt down, carefully arranging nine candles in a cautious circle. The flicker of their flas sent shadows dancing, revealing the flickers of his intent—sothing mysterious, sothing profound.
As he drew a vial of perfu and sprayed it into the star-speckled sky, Penelope remained transfixed, an impossible mix of wonder and apprehension flooding her veins. Suddenly, he yanked her behind a towering rock, the cool stone pressing against her back, grounding her even as the world pulsed and swayed beyond.
It was then that she saw them—the shooting stars’ tails blazing with fire, trailing like angry spirits through the night. One streaked low, so close it nearly toppled the rock that sheltered them. Its fiery tail whistled through the air, setting several candles alight with an eager crackle. She felt the heat wash over her as she huddled behind the rock.
As the nine candles illuminated one by one, beams of light hurtled from the shimring stars, weaving and spiraling into intricate patterns above.
It was srizing and horrifying all at once, a tapestry of mories that painted the sky in dreadful crimson.
It went quiet, eerily so.
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