13. Gianni
Chapter 13
Gianni
My lungs burn as I sprint through the hazy expanse of the Fields of Asphodel, away from it, towards god only knows what. All I know is that I need to be away from the dead, for their cold will seep through my soul and kill me here and now. The angry wails of lost souls echo behind me, grasping at my heels. I push harder, my feet kicking up ashen dust with each desperate stride.
A spectral hand grabs my ankle. I stumble, nearly falling face-first into the ground of ash. I get a closer look—the dust of bones.
"Merda!" I curse under my breath. With a snarl, I kick free and run again.
Suddenly, the clawing hands fall away. I break free from the grasping crowd, stumbling into a clear patch of the field. I stand for a brief second, catching my breath, and then the dense mist parts ever-so-slightly, revealing a shimmering vision ahead.
A temple emerges, towering like a specter of light against the shadowed expanse. Its pristine marble facade gleams, a bright mortal glow in this gray, ghostly landscape.
I skid to a halt, the sheer magnificence of the structure rendering me momentarily breathless. I hesitate to step forward, disbelief flickering through my mind. It can't be real. Nothing in this godforsaken place is real.
The temple stretches imposingly, its Doric columns ascending like giants, each carved with brutal precision only the gods can render true. My eyes drift to the entablature above the columns, where detailed carvings show scenes from Hercules's twelve labors, each captured with incredible precision.
Every muscle, expression, and struggle in Hercules's journey feels so real, as though the gods and monsters might come to life at any moment.
And then, I see the jewels. “Incredible,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper as I run a hand through my damp, dark hair. The pediment rises above, triangular and flawless, its apex crowned with emeralds, rubies, sapphires and stones I’ve never seen before. Precious, beyond mortal understanding.
The temple is a feat of wonder, untouched by the decay around it—a silent defiance against death.
And it is for that reason that I make my way towards it. I don’t know where I must go, but for now, I must escape the harrowed souls chasing me.
And so, I choose the light.
But still, a voice of caution murmurs in the back of my mind, a remnant of years surviving danger-filled streets.
This place, too perfect, calls to me in a way that sets every instinct on edge. Yet, some invisible thread pulls me closer, as if whispering my name, as if promising… something.
“What game are you playing now, Hades?” I mutter, studying every inch of the facade, seeking any sign of treachery. Yet here I am, taking a step forward, drawn by that silent, irresistible pull.
As I reach the top, the temple doors groan open, revealing three figures. My breath catches, my heart pounding as I take in their impossible beauty. They’re all tall, thin like wraiths, yet curved like works of art. Their skin is untouched, unmarked by life. Their hair falls to their waists, and their eyes are full of wonder, drawing me in. They stand motionless, their faces an ethereal contrast to the bleakness surrounding us.
The first, pale and with hair like spun gold, steps forward. Her eyes shimmer like the sea itself, and her skin glows faintly, her beauty almost painful to behold. “Welcome, weary traveler,” she murmurs, her voice caressing me to my core.
To her left, a raven-haired woman with skin as beautiful as the night sky regards me with forest-green eyes. Her tresses cascade like waves down her back, and her lips curve into a knowing smile. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she says softly, her voice a soft purr that sends a shiver through me.
The third, silver-haired and graceful as smoke, stands silently, her lavender eyes observing me quietly. Her voice is a melody, a haunting whisper. “Come inside,” she says, her words sinking into me like silk.
I hesitate, my instincts screaming warnings I cannot ignore. These women aren’t mortal, nor are they dead. What are they? Deities? Witches? Something more dangerous?
Their voices suddenly fill my mind, a honeyed whisper that slides through me. The golden-haired one is first, her thoughts brushing against mine with a strange warmth. “Fear not, Gianni Montagna. We are not here to harm you.”
I take a step forward, unable to fight the hypnotic pull of their voices. "How do you know me?"
The raven-haired woman's lips curve into a smile, but her mouth doesn't move. "We know many things, Gianni. Including the location of your beloved Genoveva."
My heart races. "Where is she?" I demand, my voice a low growl.
The silver-haired one raises a delicate hand. "Patience, mortal. We shall aid you in your quest, but first, you must come inside.”
“How can I trust you? I’ve seen enough deceit in one lifetime and beyond,” I ask, even though I take a step closer from curiosity.
The raven-haired woman’s voice follows, smooth as velvet. “We guard this sacred place, condemned unjustly in death. This place is our retribution from Hades himself. This temple is our sanctuary… and now, it may be yours.”
I study their faces, searching for any flicker of deceit. But they gaze back, open and serene. Against my better judgment, I feel my defenses falter.
After all, these women might be my ticket to Genoveva.
The silver-haired woman extends her hand, her fingers graceful and inviting as I reach the threshold of the temple. "Come," she whispers, the word caressing my mind. "All will be revealed inside."
Beneath the caution my mind is telling me to maintain, there's something else - a whisper in my soul urging me forward. It's the same feeling I had when I first met Genoveva, that inexplicable certainty that changed my life.
With that, I cross the threshold, feeling the weight of Asphodel’s horrors fall away. A strange peace settles over me, one I haven’t felt in years. This temple, strange as it is, feels like a heartbeat, thrumming with life. I breathe out, almost in relief.
“Follow me,” the raven-haired beauty whispers, her voice weaving into the silence.
The three women lead me through a corridor of marble, the only sound of my footsteps echoing off the walls. At the end of the hall, they vanish, leaving me in a vast chamber.
“The Hall of Reflections,” the silver-haired maiden’s voice drifts faintly, even though she’s no longer there. “It shows you what your heart desires most.”
My breath catches in my throat. Mirrors. Hundreds of them, stretching as far as the eye can see. And in each one—
“Genoveva?” I breathe, my heart thundering. Her face, her hazel eyes full of life, her dark hair falling like night over her shoulders—she stands in every mirror, watching me.
My trembling hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against the cool surface of a mirror. And there she is, her delicate features so close I can almost feel her breath.
"Amore mio," I whisper, my voice cracking. Relief floods through me, sweet and overwhelming. "I've found you."
My palm presses flat against the glass, and for a moment—one glorious, heart-stopping moment—I swear I feel the warmth of her skin. Her lips curve into that secret smile, the one reserved only for me, and I'm drowning in memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises.
"Genoveva," I breathe, "I'm here to take you home."
But as the words leave my lips, something shifts. The air grows colder, and a sick feeling twists in my gut—her image wavers like heat rising from summer-baked asphalt.
"No," I growl, pressing harder against the mirror. "No, don't you dare—"
It's too late. Her face dissolves like smoke, slipping through my desperate grasp. I'm left clutching at nothing but my reflection, my features twisted in anguish.
"Genoveva!" I roar, slamming my fist against the glass. It doesn't even crack. "Come back!"
I race toward the nearest mirror. My hands slam against cold glass, only to meet an unyielding barrier. Desperation floods me as I turn, and I see her in every reflection, haunting me.
“Please,” I choke, my voice shattering the silence. “I’ve come so far. I can’t lose you now.”
But the mirrors stay silent. Her face, a phantom image, taunts me from every angle. I fall to my knees, broken glass surrounding me, broken promises weighing me down. My chest heaves with sobs I can no longer hold back.
"Genoveva!" I shout, my voice echoing off the countless reflections. "Where are you?"
I stand again, my fingers brushing against the cold glass. She's there, just beyond my reach, her lips parting as if to speak. But no sound comes.
"This way," her reflection seems to say, gesturing down the mirrored corridor.
I don't hesitate. I run.
My footsteps thunder against the floor. Left, right, straight ahead. Genoveva's face flashes by, a kaleidoscope of emotions. Pleading. Hopeful. Desperate.
"I'm coming!" The words tear from my throat, raw and primal.
My lungs burn. Sweat trickles down my spine. But I can't stop.
Another turn. Another glimpse of her face.
"Please, be real!" I roar, my voice crumbling. "I can't lose you again.”
Confusion crashes over me in suffocating waves. Was she ever really there? Or have I finally lost my mind in this hellish place?
"I can't do this without you," I whisper, my usual iron control shattered. "How am I supposed to find my way back if you're not here to guide me?"
The mirrors blur together, a dizzying maze of light and shadow. But I press on, driven by a need deeper than breath itself.
"Gianni," her voice whispers, seemingly from everywhere at once.
"I'm here!" I cry out, spinning wildly. "Where are you?"
My heart pounds a frantic rhythm, threatening to burst from my chest. I’ve never felt such fierce desperation.
Just then, I feel the glass give way. I stumble ever so slightly, and then I feel skin. Real, human skin.
I swear the heavens, hell and earth come to a standstill, and I close my eyes, afraid it’s nothing but an apparition. But how could it be when I feel her warmth in my arms, her breath on my neck? I pull back, tears blurring my vision, and meet her gaze. Relief swells in my chest, erasing all fear.
“Genoveva…” I whisper, voice cracking, and take her in my arms. She melts into it, the familiar scent of jasmine and sandalwood wrapping around us like an embrace. Her hazel eyes, filled with tears, search mine with a mixture of joy and sorrow.
“Gianni,” she breathes, her voice a melody that soothes the ache in my soul.
I cup her face, tracing the line of her cheekbone with trembling fingers. “I thought I’d lost you. I couldn’t bear…”
My entire body is thrumming with life, with need, for more of her. I caress her cheeks, reach down to trace her shoulders, reach for her waist, and pull her closer again, praying our bodies could fuse as one.
“Don’t you ever do that again, you understand?” I choke out my words, pressing my lips into her neck.
“Do what?” she asks sweetly, caressing my hair.
“Die on me. Don’t you ever die on me!”
I pull back and look into her eyes, losing myself in them. The longer I stare, the quicker the transition seems.
Until, at last, I’m no longer staring at hazel eyes. They’re blue and azure.
I step back and take in the rest of her. I clutch my heart, almost tripping over in my quest to get away from this trickery.
The silver-haired maiden gazes back at me, her serene beauty contrasting with Genoveva’s earthy warmth.
“No…” I stammer, tears falling down my face as I fall to my knees. “Where is she? What have you done with my love?”