Rona
I sank deeper and deeper, water filling my lungs, yet I could still breathe.
The void pressed around me. Cold, Dark, and Endless.
It flashed again. The dark figure.
Only this time, it came closer. I rubbed my eyes, hoping this was some kind of hallucination.
It wasn't.
I thought there was no trouble for the dead.
Turns out there is. It's just a different kind of trouble, like being haunted by a dark humanoid figure.
I raised my hands in defense, pure muscle memory.
My black belt in taekwondo wasn't for jokes and giggles.
The dark figure appeared behind me, and I let out a startled shriek.
It grabbed me.
Space distorted, and the scenery changed as dark pressing waters swapped for light lit skies and evergreen shrubs.
I collapsed onto the floor, my shoulders shaking from the force of my coughs.
My limbs stiffened, my control over them negligible, and I found myself levitating inches above the ground, staring face to face with the dark, cloaked figure from the void.
"Lower your hands," a voice said calmly. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be arguing with gravity."
I technically already am.
His eyes gleamed an iridescent purple. I recoiled.
"Wh… what are you?" I whispered, staring at its hooded face.
The cloak dropped. Those purple eyes stared straight at me.
"Humans call me many things." He paused, his finger gently grazing my cheek.
"Psychopomp. Ankou. The Grim Reaper. But I am Charon, the guide between worlds."
I froze, taking a step back. I was really dead.
"And you, child, are not supposed to be here." He slowly circled me. "Your life was cut short, yet Death's will must stand."
I giggled, sharp and disbelieving. "Me? Dead?" I pointed at my chest. It lacked its usual thump. "There's no freaking way in hell."
My fingers gripped his cloak. "Take me back. Now."
"Whether it's the truth or a lie, you know best." He gently unfurled my fingers. "Now, we have a river to cross."
I clenched my fists at my sides. "You said it yourself. I'm not supposed to be here!" I screamed.
He turned his back to me, "Let's be on our way."
"Don't ignore me when I'm speaking to you!" I grabbed his cloak.
It unbuckled and I screamed.
His chest, his torso, it was all bones and joints.
His head tilted slowly, a burning flame igniting in his eyes.
"You shouldn't have done that."
I stuck my chin out, hiding my quivering fingers behind my back. "But I did. Now you will listen to me."
He halted, a slow, frustrated sigh escaping his lips as finally gave me his full attention.
"What do you wish to say, child?"
"Take me home. Back to where I'm fr—"
"No." He cut in sharply.
"Why not?" I gripped the roots of my hair. "I don't belong here. I wasn't even supposed to die yet."
"It doesn't matter. The dead cannot return to life," he said sternly, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
I threw my head back, staring at the bright orange sky as I choked back a sob.
It couldn't be. All my life's work… gone.
No. I refused.
"It matters." I stalked forward, jabbing a finger into his back. "You will take me back."
"I did everything right. Every single fucking thing." My head shook rapidly in denial. "And this is how fate repays me? By sending me to my grave?"
"No. It can't. I'm going back, and when I do, I will skin that manwhore alive."
He turned slowly, staring at me with eerie calm.
"What makes you think you're different? Special enough for me to return you to the land of the living?"
"I am Rona fucking Reid," I snarled, "and if you don't take me back, I'll smash your head against a damn wall."
A slow smile crept across his dark lips. "I cannot bring back the dead, even if I wanted to—"
"Then take me to someone who can," I cut in. There had to be someone.
"You wish to meet the Progenitor?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
I nodded. If the Progenitor could return me, then I'd cross the seven depths of hell to reach him.
Charon pointed into the distance, to a place where the sun didn't reach. A mansion stood on the side of a hill, dread curling in my spine at the sight, even from afar.
"That is the Progenitor's mansion," he said. "That is where you're heading."
He grabbed my hand.
A portal appeared a few feet away and with it came large wind currents as dark matter swirling violently within.
"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" I asked, blinking just to be sure.
He pulled me forward toward the portal. I dug my heels into the ground, unease flickering across my face.
What if this was a trap? A sinister ploy to bind me to this place forever?
It was too late to resist as the portal swallowed us whole.
Cold slammed into me, then warmth. Stone replaced air beneath my feet and I stumbled forward, barely catching myself.
We stood in a vast hall, its black marble floors stretched endlessly. Pillars stood tall, crafted with molten gold and ancient symbols engraved in them.
At the far end sat a throne, carved from obsidian, faint runes glowed from the distance.
Someone occupied it.
He sat there like he owned the room, he probably did. He didn't rise. Didn't move.
Power rolled off him in suffocating waves, pressing against my lungs harder than the void ever had.
I'd faced death, betrayal, prison bars and knives, yet my instincts screamed one thing now.
Run.
This man. He was a Predator.
Charon released my hand and dropped on one knee.
"Progenitor," he said quietly, his head lowered.