VI

II : Descent

Roseanne could barely see where she was going as she stepped into the Underworld. Her sandaled feet stuck to the steps as she felt for them. She stretched her arms out for a rail or wall, but all that surrounded her was darkness. She felt unsteady, like the faintest breeze could send her tumbling down the steps.

She stepped down and down and down, farther than she thought she would need to go, hundreds of steps below the forest floor. She saw and heard and felt nothing. For a moment she considered turning back, but she was determined to bring Jennie's lover back to her.

Finally, a thin silver line came into view. As Roseanne drew closer, she saw it was a river. She doubled her speed, almost tripping down the steps. When she reached the bank, she saw that there were milky-white shapes floating through it, liquid and long. She squinted, then to her horror realized they were in the form of people, warped and languid in the water.

Souls.

The river was teeming with souls.

She steeled herself and bent closer, hoping to recognize Jennie's beloved among them. Jennie had spoken in such detail about him, Roseanne thought she would recognize him. She paced up and down the bank, impatient to find him and return to Earth triumphant.

"Careful, nymph," croaked a voice as old and cracked as marble.

Roseanne looked up to see a muscular man with a moss-like beard and hair hanging limp around his broad shoulders. His skin was an unusual color, even for a god; in the gray light of the river, it looked almost green. His eyes were so big and fierce and unblinking, Roseanne wanted to look away. His lips were full and blue and flared out to reveal a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Hades," Roseanne breathed. She stepped back, foot almost slipping into the river.

The man laughed, creeping toward her. "You flatter me," he said. "I am Charon, guardian of the River Styx, Ferryman of the Dead."

"Oh," Roseanne said. She was glad to not have to negotiate with this fearsome creature. She squared her shoulders to look brave. "I'm here to talk to Hades."

Charon laughed, a great, rumbling laugh that created ripples in the water.

Roseanne felt anger swell like the river before them.

"I'm serious," she said. "He has someone I need to get back."

Charon laughed again. "Does he? Well, then..." He held out his hand.

Roseanne shrank back, not wanting to touch him. She worried he would pull her into the river or carry her off somewhere to have his way with her.

"Surely you don't expect me to ferry you across without payment."

Roseanne regretted not bringing any form of payment with her. She knew Charon had no use for mortal currency, as neither did she. But she could have brought something from the garden or a rare gem to bargain with. Instead, she looked behind her at the trail of flowers she'd brought down the steps with her, plucking a handful and thrusting them toward Charon.

Charon seemed confused by this. He examined the bouquet for a moment before taking it from her hand gingerly. He looked down at the soft petals and young green stems, fragile in his calloused hand. The bright, healthy green of the flowers made his skin look even more sickly.

Then, to Roseanne's amazement, a little smile crept over one side of his mouth. It disappeared quickly, but Roseanne wondered if perhaps he was satisfied with the novelty of something alive. From what Roseanne could see, everything else was dead; the black, muddy bank of the river had not a single blade of grass growing in it, and the only thing floating in the water were souls. There were no trees or birds or fish or even bugs around. Other than the dull streaming of the water, the great underground cavern was lifeless.