The air in the underworld was thick and heavy, as though it clung to Asterion's skin. The River Styx stretched out before him, its silver waters swirling in eerie silence, reflecting the darkness above.
The weight of souls traveling across its surface pressed upon him, a reminder of the realm he had entered. The boundary between life and death was thin here, and Asterion knew that with every step, he was treading further into a place where few mortals dared venture.
He reached the bank of the river, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. A figure materialized from the shadows—a tall, gaunt man with hollow eyes and skin like worn parchment.
Charon, the ferryman of the dead, stared at Asterion with neither surprise nor emotion. His voice was gravelly, like the grind of stone on stone.
"A soul who walks the earth, yet dares to cross into the realm of the dead," Charon rasped. "What brings you here, beast of Crete?"
"I seek Anubis," Asterion replied, his voice steady despite the tension coiling inside him. "He is the only one who can give me the answers I need."
Charon's eyes gleamed with something dark, perhaps amusement, perhaps warning. "The dead seek answers as well, and they find them in the eternal silence of the afterlife. Why should the living be given what the dead are not?"
Asterion clenched his fists, feeling the pull of his old monstrous strength.
He forced himself to remain calm. This is not a place for violence.
"I am no longer fully living," Asterion said softly. "But I cannot rest until I know why I was spared. Why did Anubis come to me"
Charon tilted his head, as though weighing the sincerity of Asterion's words. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he extended a skeletal hand.
"The price to cross the Styx remains the same. Have you brought your offering?"
Asterion hesitated. He had no coins, no material wealth, nothing to offer but himself. The weight of his mother's sacrifice, her prayers to Hades, echoed in his mind.
What more must I give?
He reached into his tunic, producing a small, carved medallion—his only possession from his life as the prince of Crete. It bore the symbol of the labyrinth, a reminder of the curse that had once consumed him.
He held it out. "This is all I have left."
Charon studied the medallion for a long moment before curling his bony fingers around it. "The labyrinth holds many secrets," he murmured, his tone inscrutable. "It seems fitting."
With a swift motion, Charon beckoned Asterion to step into the boat.
The vessel barely made a sound as it glided over the water, yet the journey felt interminable. As the far shore grew closer, the oppressive silence of the underworld deepened, wrapping around Asterion like a cloak of despair.
YOU ARE READING
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST
Ficción históricaWELCOME TO MY ABSURD STORY If the Minotaur were to encounter Anubis, the guardian of the underworld, it would likely be in the context of the Minotaur's journey into the afterlife. Anubis, with his role as the guide of souls and judge of the decease...
