Chapter 20
Hayes leads me out the front door of his parents’ house while Argyros trots behind us, silent and alert, ears pricked.
We descend the stone steps and emerge into the thick night air, passing beneath the flickering porch lights and down the illuminated drive until we reach the edge of the estate.
That’s where the pristine landscaping ends and the wild begins.
A forest of fir trees rises ahead, dense and looming, their branches tangling in the night sky.
Hayes stops and switches on the flashlight on his phone, casting a narrow beam into the woods.
“Uh… what are we doing?” I ask, glancing around skeptically. “You sure Amber’s out here?”
My sister is many things, but outdoorsy isn’t one of them. The idea of her voluntarily wandering through trees in the dark? Not exactly on brand.
“Just keep going,” Hayes says, placing a steady hand on the small of my back, nudging me forward.
My nerves hum as we cross the final pool of light on the property and step into the shadows. Behind us, the glow of the gas lamps fades, swallowed by the trees. It’s nearly pitch-black now. Still, Hayes walks on like he knows exactly where he’s going, like he’s done this a hundred times before.
The air shifts as we enter the forest. Colder. Heavier. Laced with moss, loam, and something sharper, almost metallic, like ozone before a storm. Gravel crunches beneath my shoes, twigs snapping underfoot.
“It’s not much further. We’re almost there.”
“Okay…” I carefully pick my way over jutting roots and slick stones, staying close to his side. “But, uh, where is there, exactly?”
“Relax, Al. Just trust me.”
He pushes forward, and I have no choice but to follow.
We go a few more yards, and then he stops so suddenly, I nearly collide with him.
“Hayes?”
No answer.
He just stands there, perfectly still, like he’s waiting for something. Beside us, Argyros freezes too. I glance down at the dog, puzzled. His ears are up. Tail rigid. Not a twitch of movement.
“Argy?”
The dog doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even breathe.
“He’ll be fine,” Hayes says, but his voice isn’t exactly steady as he watches Argyros. “He knows what to do.”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “What does that even mean? He’s a dog, Hayes. What exactly is he supposed to do?”
He swallows, hard, muscles tightening like he’s bracing for impact.
“Al…” My name comes out rough. Almost guilty. “There’s something I should’ve told you. About Argyros.” A flicker of regret crosses his face. “He’s not what you think,” he says. “He’s—”
Click.
The sound slices through the trees. A low mechanical whir rises from beneath us, like some ancient engine grinding awake after centuries of sleep. It starts deep and slow, but builds fast. Louder. Sharper. Like it’s waking from the dead.
Hayes spins and pulls me into his arms. I feel the tension snap through his body, every muscle coiled tight beneath his skin.
“What’s that noise? What’s going on?” I ask.
This doesn’t feel romantic—at least, I don’t think it is—but my body didn’t get the memo. Every inch he touches sparks like flint on steel, pulse flaring as his arms tighten around me.
“Don’t worry,” he murmurs in my ear. “This part doesn’t last long.”
The whirring deepens into a deafening roar, like a tornado. Then the ground beneath us starts to tremble, subtle at first, then violently.
“What’s happening?”
“Just hold on,” he says. “Whatever you do—don’t let go.”
My mouth opens, but I don’t get a chance to respond because the earth suddenly shudders beneath us—and then splits wide open.
An enormous black hole yawns at our feet.
I blink. Rub my eyes.
It’s still there.
“Oh my God… what is that?” My voice shakes as I stare down into the hole.
Dark.
Endless.
Impossible.
“It’s a portal,” Hayes says, inexplicably calm. “And you and I are going inside.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Panic spikes through me as the air around us slowly begins drifting toward the hole. I try to imagine what falling inside would feel like.
Would it hurt?
Would my atoms come apart?
Would I be ripped into tiny little pieces?
“Don’t be scared,” Hayes whispers against my cheek as the whirring grows louder, hungrier. “I’ve got you.”
Argyros barks a sharp warning and then, without hesitation, leaps—as in voluntarily, gleefully jumps—into the black nothingness beneath us. He disappears from view almost instantly.
I don’t even have time to scream before a violent force yanks Hayes and me downward, like the pull of two magnets snapping together, only a hundred times stronger. Not gentle. Not slow. Like the ground itself has woken up and is swallowing us whole.
And then we fall.
Nothing but darkness surrounds us as we plummet through the cavernous hole, my body being pulled in a million different directions at once.
Deeper and deeper we go into an endless abyss. The air warps around us, shrieking past like we’ve been swallowed by something ancient. Something massive and unrelenting.
Amid all the terror, my brain coughs up the strangest memory, and I think of those Alien movies.
Not about Hayes and his reenacting the chestburster scene, but the part in the sequel when Ripley expels the queen xenomorph through an airlock and into space.
For the first time, I actually feel bad for the alien.
Because this? This feeling of being hurled through endless nothing?
It’s absolutely horrifying.
We fall forever.
Or maybe for a second. A minute. An hour. Days. Months. I don’t know. Time doesn’t exist anymore.
And then—
Impact.
My feet hit solid ground and immediately give out, sending me sprawling into Hayes. I crash against him, fingers clawing at his back, the breath punched from my lungs.
“You okay?” he asks, untangling us and rising to his feet. He reaches down, hand outstretched, and helps me up.
“I—I think so?”
“Careful,” he warns. “It takes a few minutes to adjust.”
My legs wobble beneath me like cooked spaghetti as I try to stand.
I feel like I’ve just stumbled off a roller coaster that’s been spinning at triple speed and moving in reverse.
Even leaning against his solid frame, I can barely stay upright.
A wave of nausea surges, sharp and sudden, and I clap a hand over my mouth.
Oh God.
I’m going to throw up.
Or I would, if I had anything left in my stomach, but I’m pretty sure the portal wrung me dry. Food, air, my dignity. Possibly my sanity, too.
Something cold and wet streaks across my cheek in the most vile way. I flinch, shivering, wiping it away without thinking. Sweat, I assume, or maybe rain or mist, but then I realize with a start it’s not that at all.
My brain scrambles to catch up with what I’m seeing.
No… not sweat. Not even close.
I blink, mesmerized, at the scene unfolding in front of me.
Hundreds—no, thousands—of ghosts. Pale, translucent figures, half-formed and twitching, rising from the earth like steam.
Some whisper. Some wail. Others scream with soundless agony, their mouths stretched wide as they swirl and twist like smoke on a breeze before vanishing into the sky above.
The red sky.
Not a romantic sunset red or a pretty, cloudy dusk red. Red like blood, like something torn open, raw and gaping and bleeding.
But even ghosts in the air and a sky like something from a nightmare don’t compare to the monstrosity looming directly in front of us.
Just yards away, a vast sludge-black river churns, towering waves crashing against a jagged shoreline littered with bones, bleached white and splintered like wreckage after a shipwreck. Docked at the water’s edge is a ferry unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
It’s massive, titanic in scale. Weathered and brutal, with tiered decks that rise from old, chipped wood and corroded steel. It looks like something dredged from the bottom of time itself. Something that should’ve been sent to a junkyard eons ago.
And the ghosts are drawn to it.
They surge forward in a silent flood, phasing through one another as they rush the dock, cries layered in grief as they vanish onto the broken decks by the thousands.
But the worst part isn’t the river. Or the bones. Or even the ship.
It’s the terrifying skeletal figure standing at the head of the dock.
He has to be at least ten feet tall, draped in a billowing black robe that sways though there’s no wind.
His back is to us, spine unnaturally straight.
One bony hand clutches a long wooden staff, which he thumps rhythmically against the planks.
Each strike sends more ghosts forward, herding them like cattle.
Then he turns to face us.
I gasp, stumbling back on instinct. Nothing should have a face like that.
Bone-white. Hollow. A perfect skull, stripped of flesh. No skin. No features. Just the raw, leering mask of death itself. It’s like something straight out of one of my horror movies, except this time, there’s no screen between me and it.
“What the actual fuck is going on?”
Hayes grabs my elbow and pulls me forward. “Come on. We have to get on the ferry before it leaves.”
I dig my heels into the dirt.
“Are you out of your ever-loving mind? I’m not getting anywhere near that… that thing.”
Hayes—the absolute bastard—has the nerve to laugh.
“Don’t be dramatic. Charon’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” I stare at him. “He has no face, Hayes. NO. FACE.”
I slap both hands over my eyes like that’ll somehow make this all go away. A thin, humiliating whimper slips out before I can stop it.
I always thought I was brave and strong.
The kind of person who stays calm under pressure.
Who beats up punching bags and sparring partners for exercise.
Who leans into the dark. Who laughs while reading horror books and can make it through any scary movie, no matter how bloody or grotesque.
And yet, here I am, turning into a puddle of pure panic when faced with real-life terror.