Epilogue
NYSSA
Glistening tears poured down my cheeks as I stood — utterly and irreparably broken — on the landing dock of the Isle of Judgement. My legs threatened to buckle, knowing I had chosen this. I had chosen to endure this fate by refusing to sever my gilded thread.
A sob escaped my throat as the black, weathered boat came into view. Its cargo today: a piece of my heart. The faceless Ferryman inclined his head respectfully, bringing the vessel to a halt. His charge floated towards me, dimpled grin locked in place.
That damned smile almost ruined me beyond repair.
Charon’s ghostly figure stopped in front of me, his hand moving to brush away my tears. My grief ruptured anew when his fingers passed straight through my cheek; not even a wisp of sensation kissed my skin. Grief tore through me like a tsunami, breaking everything, leaving nothing whole.
“I can’t do this without you, Char,” I wept. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I couldn’t bring you back.”
He pressed the ghost of a kiss to the top of my head.
“I’d do it again,” he replied quietly. “Every second of this life was more than I had any right to — because of you.”
A sob escaped me.
“All the things I didn’t get to do or see or experience… they don’t matter, Nyss. The only thing I had left that mattered was you. ”
“Char,” I cried, voice broken and wet, “If I don’t sentence you, then I don’t have to say goodbye.”
He laughed.
“You really want me lurking around when you eventually get to that other stuff with lover boy?” he joked.
Sheer horror stoppered the tears instantly.
“Absolutely not.”
“And while we’re on that topic, don’t forget to fondle his balls?—”
“Charon!” I laughed, face immediately falling.
I knew what he was doing. I knew he was easing this moment for me, not for himself. He didn’t want to leave me, but he’d made his choice. He bore no regrets.
Charon smiled sadly, pressing his transparent hand against my cheek, pretending we could feel each other.
“I love you, Nyss. It’s only going to get harder from here. I know you know that.”
“Yes, but?—”
“No buts. Kronos will use everything he has against you. He’ll twist you. Bend your grief into his own weapon. Don’t forget who you are — and those you love. Don’t forget: you are both death and life. No one else has ever possessed dual powers. Use them .”
“I couldn’t forget you. Not for as long as I live,” I vowed.
Another sad smile.
“Don’t,” he murmured. “But don’t carry me either. You are not a tomb.”
A sob wedged itself in my throat as fresh tears forged tracks down my face.
“It’s time,” he said. “Send me on, Nyss.”
My heart cracked at his words. His stupid, wise, heartfelt words.
I inhaled deeply, preparing to farewell my brother in every way that counted.
“Charon. Guardian of the River, fiercest of warriors, bravest of souls, brother of my heart. I sentence you to eternal peace and paradise in the only realm worthy of you. Go forth and rest in the Elysian Fields.”
His smile shone so brightly I almost had to squint. The shade of my best friend drifted towards my favourite arch, the one crowned in wisteria waterfalls, and looked back once more. Just before he left me forever, Charon spoke:
“I love you, Nyssa. And mind your feet.”
He smiled again and passed through the gateway.
Gone.
Forever.
I collapsed in a pile of grief on the obsidian stones, the sound of my heart fracturing echoing through the Underworld.
I don’t know how many hours later Caelus found me there, but he did. And he scooped me up from my grief-filled cocoon, whispering to the shadows that had become his friends ever since they’d dragged him back to life at my bidding.
He conjured a familiar ebony doorway, whirling and twisting layers of midnight, and walked right up to it.
But before we could cross the threshold, the fracturing grew too loud, like lances stabbing into my eardrums.
“Caelus,” I whispered, pointing at the arches.
Each one had cracked. Long, splintering fractures ran up from their bases, creaking and groaning ominously. We watched in horror as the first arch crumbled into dust and broken obsidian slabs. The second collapsed moments later. And then the third disintegrated.
The afterlife gateways were in ruins.
I had no idea what that meant for Charon, or any of the other souls that had passed through them; no idea if they could be repaired or replaced; no idea what this meant for the dead, or the dying.
But I knew one thing for certain: it was my fault.
Saving Caelus had been the catalyst.
The Fates, or the balance, or the realms themselves were handing down their own sentences.
And ours?
We were totally and completely fucked.