Chapter 8 Sacrifice #2
Something shifted in Charon’s expression, a flicker of understanding crossing features that rarely revealed anything. “You assume I selected which memory to extract.”
Ice spread through my veins, colder than the waters of the Acheron. “What do you mean?”
“The memory extraction follows the heart’s own currents.” Charon tilted his head at me, and I knew he was only bothering to explain because Aion was there. “I summon happiness, and the strongest paths respond. I cannot choose which joy answers my call.”
Finally, everything made sense. Even after realizing the trade had gone awry, I could never have dreamed of the actual reason. “All her happiest memories connected to me.”
Charon nodded, almost as if unaware of the weight of his own words. “The bride market choice. The claiming ceremony. Your intervention in her dying moments. Every genuine joy in her recent existence bore your presence. They flowed together as one interconnected stream.”
“How is that an honest exchange, then? You destroyed her chance at choice.”
“I did nothing but fulfill a contract and complete a ritual.” Charon huffed under his breath, almost seeming amused. “But perhaps... a new arrangement might be reached.”
Hope surged through me, hot and desperate. It was just as my brother had said then. A new deal, for the ferryman. “What kind of arrangement?”
“It’s quite simple, Theron,” Charon answered. “Your hellhound powers, for her memories.”
It made so much sense that I couldn’t even blame him for the demand. My ability to see into the past would likely serve him well, maybe prevent anomalies like this one from happening.
But even if that hadn’t been the case, I wouldn’t have rejected his offer. All my life, I’d been a hellhound, and my affinity with the past was as strong as my hellfire. It all meant nothing compared to Callista.
I walked up to the altar without hesitation. “Done.”
Skaros and Aion shared an uneasy look, but to their credit, neither protested. They understood, like I did, that there was no other way forward.
“The ritual demands complete submission,” Charon warned me. “Lie down and accept the coins as they are placed. Do not resist the extraction process.”
The stone chilled my back as I settled onto its smooth surface.
I’d witnessed countless memory trades from the sidelines, but never imagined becoming the subject.
Still, it wasn’t fear of the spell that had me frozen.
Everything could still go wrong, and this was my last chance to get Callista back.
Charon reached into his robes and produced four coins. “One for each eye. One for the mouth. One over the heart.”
The first coin settled over my right eye. Cold seeped into my skull, carrying whispers from shores I’d never harvested. The second coin followed, plunging my vision into absolute darkness.
Charon moved closer to my head. “Open your mouth.”
The third coin touched my tongue. Power flowed from the metal into my throat, down through my chest, seeking the source of my abilities. The final coin pressed against my heart, directly over the incomplete soul bond that ached for Callista.
“Now we begin.” Three words, and it was the only warning I received before Charon’s magic slammed into my consciousness.
I blinked, and the next thing I knew, I found myself standing before an enormous gate. Black iron bars stretched impossibly high. Ancient chains sparked with defensive energy, forged from something stronger than physical metal. Beyond the gate, something massive stirred in the shadows.
“Interesting.” Charon appeared beside me in this mindscape, eyeing the gate with visible intrigue. “Your weave-line creates locks I never anticipated. But no matter. We can still do this.”
Charon’s magic hammered against the barrier. The gate shuddered under each impact but held firm. Cracks appeared in the bars, and the chains groaned under the strain.
Something roared behind the gate. Whatever slept beyond those barriers awakened, and it despised this intrusion.
It was a warning, and I felt it through every fiber of my being. “Stop. This is wrong.”
Charon paused and turned toward me. “It’s your choice, Theron. But my word stands. If I stop now, Callista’s memories sink into Lake Acheron’s depths forever.”
Forever. The word echoed through my consciousness. No second chances, no alternatives. If this plan failed, Callista would never remember choosing me. She’d belong to Phonos permanently, while I carried the knowledge of my failure through endless centuries.
“Continue.” I reached for the chains myself, grasping the links with both hands. They burned against my palms, but I pulled anyway, tearing them from the gate. “Whatever the cost.”
The iron bars buckled as I ripped the defenses apart. Charon’s ritual magic surged through the gaps I’d created, seeking the ancient secrets that lay beyond.
Three heads emerged from beyond the gate, each bearing my features but magnified into something primordial and terrible. All focused on the intruder with eyes burning brighter than any hellfire I’d ever summoned.
For the first time in our acquaintance, Charon’s certainty faltered. “No. This isn’t right. This isn’t possible.”
The three-headed Cerberus opened its mouths in unison and roared. The sound shattered the mindscape, tearing apart the structure Charon had built. Reality collapsed as the creature lunged forward, seeking the ferryman who had disturbed its slumber.
I stood directly in its path.
Three sets of jaws closed around me, lifting me from the crumbling ground. Fangs pierced my consciousness, and I surrendered to the power I’d tried to sacrifice for love.
The last sensation before darkness claimed me was the taste of my own transformation.