Rona
I was sinking, deeper and deeper.
Water filled my lungs as the endless void pressed around me.
Is this what it feels like to be dead? It's oddly peaceful.
I half expected fiery gates and centaurs with swords, maybe an angel, scratch that, a devil, to guide me through the gates.
A cold shiver ran down my spine and my eyes flew open.
I saw it again, the dark figure.
Only this time, it was closer and not just a figment of my imagination.
Maybe I was getting a demon to guide me through the gates.
"Ha. Are you planning to die, just like that?"
I rolled my eyes, It's not like I had many options laid out in front of me.
"They betrayed you... They betrayed us!"
'Yes, yes.' I nodded, flailing helplessly in empty space.
"Bailey Reid ruined your childhood, nearly wrecked your career." It grew louder. "Now she's about to steal your face, your fiancé and your company."
A sharp ache split through my skull as the void around me shifted.
"She took everything." Slithering past the barriers of my mind. "Again."
That's what Bailey Reid does.
"She always takes." It roared with newfound vengeance, "Now it's your turn. Take it back."
I did, more than anything else in the world. I wanted to see them kneel and beg for forgiveness.
"It's all yours. It has always been yours."
It grew quiet, retreating to the back of my head, where it belongs.
'It's all mine.'
Everything went still. Completely.
The pressure crushing my lungs disappeared.
Then I felt it, something was behind me.
No, not something, someone.
My hairs stood on end at the thought.
"How pathetic." The voice was cold, undeniably masculine, "You have big aspirations for someone who's barely alive."
He placed a gloved hand on my shoulder. Space distorted, swapping the endless pressing void for bright skies and green fields.
I collapsed onto the floor, my shoulders shaking from the force of my coughs.
My limbs stiffened, and I found myself inches above the ground, staring face to face with him.
Layers of black fabric every inch of skin was covered, leaving a pair of silver orbs that stared down at me.
I instinctively raised my hands to defend myself.
"Lower your hands," He tilted his head, eyes crinkling. "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't need to lift a finger."
His pupils widened by a fraction as he assessed my frame.
"Wh… what are you?" I whispered, the words barely left my throat.
He removed his hood, revealing a mop of dark hair.
"Humans have called me many things." His fingers grazed my skin.
"The Grim. The ferryman. Ankou." Bright silver eyes met mine, "Charon, if you prefer names."
I froze, reality hit me like a tidal wave. I was really dead.
"And you, child. You're not supposed to be here." He slowly circled me, "Yet Death's will must stand."
"No." A laugh escaped me. Thin. Disbelieving. "No, that's impossible."
I pointed at my chest. It was unnaturally still. "There's no freaking way."
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. "But I won't stand for your tantrums, we have a river to cross."
"You said it yourself. I'm not supposed to be here!" My fingers clenched by my side. "Take me back."
He turned his back to me, "Let's be on our way."
"Don't ignore me. I said..." I grabbed his cloak and gave it a sharp tug. "Take me back."
It unbuckled. His body shimmered like a rippled stream. It was unreal.
His head tilted slowly, eyes glowing brighter than ever. "You shouldn't have done that, child."
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 is it you wish to say?"
"Take me home. Back to the land of the living or whatever you call—"
"No." He cut in before I could finish my sentence.
"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." he said sternly, eyes fixed on the path ahead. "It goes against the rules of my world."
I threw my head back, staring at the golden skies as I choked back a sob.
It couldn't be. All my life's work… gone.
Gone.
'It's all yours. Take it.'
"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 I'm supposed to go? Dying in an abandoned driveway?"
"No. I'm going back, I'm going to have my revenge." I felt a thrill that climbed at the back of my skull at the thought.
'Revenge.'
He turned back, meeting my gaze with an eerie calmness. "What makes you think you're different? Special enough to return to the mortal realm?"
"I am Rona fucking Reid," I snarled, hiding my trembling fingers behind me, "and if you don't take me back, I'll smash your head against a damn wall."
His eyes crinkled again, in what I hoped was amusement. "I cannot bring back the dead, even if I wanted to—"
"Then take me to someone who can," I whispered. "Take me to the one who makes the rules."
"You wish to meet the Progenitor?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
I nodded. If the Progenitor could bring me back, then I'd cross the seven depths of hell to reach him.
Charon let out an irritated huff. Then raised his fingers and 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.
"Well, who am I to deny you an audience with the creator." his voice was calm, too calm for a being that was defied by a mortal.
He snapped his fingers and inches away from us, a pitch-black portal appeared.
I rubbed my eyes, just to be sure this wasn't another hallucination, but I didn't have enough time to blink as Charon pulled me in.
Unease flickered across my face, what if this was a trap?
'It isn't.'
But, What if?
It was too late to think as the cold slammed into me.
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.
I couldn't make out his face from the distance but something about this presence made me hesitate.
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 and I was his prey.
Charon released my hand and dropped on one knee.
"Progenitor," he said quietly, his head bowed.