The air had grown heavier.
Eros felt it in the stillness of the Underworld, in the way the black river slowed its whisper and the pale motes of light dimmed. Even the air itself seemed to sag, as if listening. The warmth in the voice that had mocked him moments ago was gone, stripped away and replaced by something colder—like a blade being drawn across stone.
The apple slipped from the man's hand. It hit the floor, rolled a short distance, then tumbled into the river. The splash was small, yet in the silence it echoed like thunder. Ripples spread across the black water until they vanished, devoured by the current.
A metaphor, Eros realized. The game was over.
His throat tightened. «Now it begins. Not claws. Not fangs. Something worse. Words. And words cut deeper than steel.»
The man leaned back against his boulder, half-lidded eyes faintly catching the dim light. His smile hadn't left, but the air around him had changed. The humor was gone. He wasn't some wanderer anymore. He was a knife waiting for a throat.
"You want another path, don't you?" His voice slid through the cavern like silk. "Not the guttering of your flame. Not the erasure waiting if you let it fade. You want to live—even if living means something else entirely down here."
Eros said nothing. The ember in his chest flickered, mocking his silence.
The stranger tilted his head, studying him. "There is a way. One way. But it requires a bond. A pact."
He snapped his fingers. A diary appeared in his lap, its cover laced with faint veins of shadow. The pages fluttered once, then stilled, waiting.
"The Blood Pact," he said, tone reverent, almost ceremonial. "Older than gods. Written in what binds us all: blood. Once sealed, it cannot be broken. It is absolute."
The words hung in the cavern. Even the walls seemed to lean closer, hungry for them.
Eros's chest pulled tight. «A chain dressed up as a gift. That's all this is.»
The man smiled, teeth catching the pale gleam of the river. "But you look tense, boy. Relax. This isn't a shackle. Think of it as… assurance. A bridge between us."
"And what do I get?" Eros forced out. His voice cracked more than he wanted.
"Ah." The grin widened. He raised a hand. Something shimmered into being—a stone no bigger than a fist, black as onyx, glowing faintly red, pulsing like a heartbeat.
"This," he said with quiet reverence. "A Soulstone."
The glow throbbed. Deep inside, Eros felt his own ember stir, as if recognizing it.
"With this, you can return to life," the man went on. "Once. Maybe more. A rare thing. Priceless. Dearer than breath."
He turned the stone over, its glow painting his face crimson. For the first time, his grin faltered, replaced by something closer to longing. "It costs me to part with it. Don't mistake that. But you need it more than I do."
"Where did you get it?" Eros tried to keep the hunger out of his voice, but it slipped through.
The man's smile sharpened again. "That's a long tale. For another day."
Eros stared at the Soulstone, heat prickling under his skin. «That thing could save me. The difference between fading here and clawing my way to another chance. But no one gives something like that for free. Not unless they want something worse in return.»
His eyes narrowed. "What's the price?"
The stranger laughed softly, almost casually. "Suspicious already? Good. Suspicion will keep you alive. But you needn't worry. I don't want your soul. I don't want your blood, beyond the drops that bind us. My price is smaller."
He leaned forward, eyes glinting with mischief. "All I ask is a favor. Later. When the time comes, you'll find someone for me. I'll tell you who. Through you, I'll look on the world again. Whisper in your ear, even when no one else sees me. That's all."
Eros's stomach twisted. «Oh, sure. Nothing more. Just a ghost stowed away in my skull.»
The man's tone softened, coaxing. "No killing. No surrender of your soul. Nothing heavy. Just a bond. Only one condition—speak of it to no one. Break it, and…"
His grin stretched like a knife. "Eternal suffering will make death look merciful."
Eros kept his hands still, though they wanted to shake. «He's setting the hook. Every word tastes like poison dipped in sugar. But compared to the void waiting for me? Maybe even poison tastes sweet.»
Another thought pressed in, uninvited. Late-night memories of forbidden movies, scraps of paper filled with stories scrawled in a detention cell. A guardian with three heads. Terrible. Loyal.
The word left his lips before he could stop it. "Cerberus. You killed Hades. Do you have him?"
The man's smile froze. His eyes hardened.
Eros pressed. "If I have to fight a god again, a stone won't be enough. I want Cerberus."
The cavern itself seemed to flinch. The man rose from his boulder, shadows clinging as if afraid to let go. His figure stretched unnaturally long across the wall.
"My hound?" His voice dropped low, dangerous. "My trophy? My shield in this pit?"
He stepped forward slowly, the glow of the Soulstone staining his face blood-red. "You ask too much, boy."
Eros's mouth was dry, but he didn't move back.
The man's lips curved into something sharp. "Brave. Or stupid. You think you can bargain with me? With what leverage? That flickering ember in your chest?"
Eros's voice wavered, but the words didn't. "If I bend now, I'll crawl forever. Better to risk the trickster's wrath than wear his leash and smile. And besides…" His eyes narrowed. "You need me out of this book, don't you? To finish the plot."
The man frowned. "Yes. That much is true."
Eros managed a grin. "Then I need to kill that snake. And I can't do it alone."
The silence pressed harder than stone. The stranger studied him for a long moment, eyes narrowed, weighing him like a coin he couldn't decide to keep or toss.
Then he laughed. Bitter, sharp, cutting. The sound clattered in the cavern like shattered glass.
"You remind me of myself," he said. "And I despise it."
The laugh died. His gaze turned dark. "Fine. Cerberus will answer you. Use him to kill the serpent, to leave this book. With him, your odds improve. Without him, you're ash waiting to scatter. But you may call him only three times, ten minutes each. After that, he returns to me. Do we agree?"
Heat surged in Eros's chest. «Even in victory, he makes it sound like I'm already dead.»"Agree."
But two questions rose like knives in his throat.
"Why can't you leave?" His voice was low. "If you killed Hades, if you've survived this long… why are you still here?"
For the first time, the stranger's polish cracked. Shadows twisted across his face, anger flickering beneath. "Because the way is locked to me. Because I require help. That is why you must find the one I seek. Only then will I walk free."
Eros's chest clenched. This was the moment. "One last thing… have you seen another Reader here? A girl. Black hair, stubborn eyes. Her name is Amanda."
The name hung in the cavern like a prayer.
The man's expression cooled. He shook his head. "No. I do not know her. You are the first Reader I've seen in ages. I'm sorry."
Eros hollowed inside. «Not even a lie. Not even a false trail. Nothing. Just emptiness again.»
His hands trembled once, then stilled.
"Very well," the man murmured, voice smoothing back to calm. "Shall we seal it?"
A dagger shimmered into being in his hand, black as obsidian, its edge too sharp to be natural.
The diaries appeared before them, pages open, waiting. Hungry.
Eros took the blade. He cut his palm. The sting was sharp, the blood hot. Drops splattered onto both books. The stranger mirrored him, crimson soaking the pale parchment.
The diaries drank. Letters carved themselves into existence, glowing red, sealing the pact in words Eros couldn't read.
The cavern pulsed.
The grin returned, triumphant. "It is done."
The Soulstone floated from his palm into Eros's. "Press it to your chest. Feel its gift."
Eros obeyed. The stone sank into him, heat rushing through his body, filling his lungs, his veins, his flame. His diary blazed with light.
A cold voice whispered inside his skull: You have used a Soulstone. Your flames have been restored, Reader.
Eros gasped, knees almost buckling. The ember roared bright again.
"You see?" The man's voice was soft now. "I never lie."
The cavern blurred. Mist pulled at his body, dragging him upward.
Panic surged. "Wait! I don't even know your name. You never told me!"
The grin widened, sharp as a knife. "My name? Hm. Too long since anyone used it. You can call me… Loki."
The last thing Eros saw was that smile, gleaming like a blade, before the darkness swallowed him and hurled him back toward the serpent's chamber.
«So. It's god-killing season, I guess.»