#it’s Charon more than them and I think. something else of a healer would feel more eyrie

[impossible-rat-babies]

maybe. perhaps. I will figure out a way to work whm into eyrie’s lore

[innocentbi-stander]

I love necromancer Jaskier!! But now I’m just thinking about Geralt almost dying (or actually dying) & Jaskier just being like “Nope. Sorry. Get back here, bitch.”

@frecklesandamane I absolutely love that idea! I took the concept and wrote a little short, hope you enjoy!

Geralt’s world narrowed down to a haze of darkness, sharp stabs of pain stemming from the gaping wound in his side courtesy of the second wyrvern the alderman hadn’t thought to inform him about.

He had been losing blood steadily for the past few minutes, and by the feel of the massive puddle beneath him he was close to bleeding out. A strong pressure wrapped around his fingers pulled him back to earth from the place his mind had been floating. Who was holding his hand? A blob swam in front of his vision, tan, and brown, and blue, bright, familiar blue. Geralt forced his eyes to focus and the blur became a face. 

Jaskier.

Jaskier was here, and he was shouting something at Geralt, and the witcher felt something wet drip onto his face. Tears, Jaskier was crying.

Geralt still couldn’t make out what exactly his bard was saying, but he could feel the presence of his hands, one holding his own and the other putting pressure on his wound. It wouldn’t help.

It struck Geralt then that he was dying. They were too far away from the village to get help, and Jaskier couldn’t possibly manage to lug Geralt to a healer in time for him to make any difference. Geralt always knew he would die a witcher’s death, struck down by some monster and left to bleed alone.

Except he wasn’t alone. In all the times Geralt had tried to picture how his life would end, he had never imagined a scenario where he didn’t die as he had lived; sad and isolated. Jaskier had changed that. The bard had come into his life and brought light, and laughter, and friendship, and love. And now here he sat beside Geralt as he bled out on some forest floor, gripping his hand and crying for him.

Gods, Geralt loved him more than he had ever loved anything else in the world.

And he was leaving him. He didn’t want to go. But he didn’t have a choice.

The world continued it’s steady fade to black, closing in more and more, until all Geralt could see was blue.

And then there was nothing.

Geralt woke with a gasp in a world that seemed drained of any and all bright color. Shadows clung to the walls like stubborn moss, and he could hear the sounds of a powerful river beside him.

As he got to his feet Geralt took note of the absence of pain from his side, and the presence of wooden slats, a dock, under his boots.

“Geralt of Rivia. I’ve been waiting for you.” A voice sounded from beside the witcher, and every hair on his body stood on end. The voice grated into his ears, nails on a chalkboard and the breaking of glass. 

Next to the dock was a boat, long and slim, and standing inside of it was a figure. Humanoid in nature, the figure was the darkest shade of night. It’s edges were unclear, slipping away from the throes of reality like a hazy dream. It wore a cloak like the velvet of the night sky, where the twinkles of stars shone from every fold. It’s hood was pulled up, but from what he could see underneath was nothing but a harsh darkness that looked cut from the void itself.

“Who are you?” Geralt asked, though he already knew the answer. Still, the figure indulged him.

“I am Charon, ferryman of the dead. You must board my boat so that I may deliver you to your Final Judgement.” Geralt felt his stomach reposition itself in a pit of dread and despair.

“So I am dead then.” Charon did not have eyes, but Geralt felt them burning through him none the less.

“Let’s not play silly games witcher. You are not the type prone to disillusionment, best not to start in the afterlife.” He was right. Geralt had no choice, no where else to go. He took a step forward, and Charon reached out one flickering arm towards the witcher.

“And where in the absolute HELL do you think you’re going, Geralt?!” A voice rang out across the shadowed land. A very familiar voice. A very familiar and very alive voice that most certainly shouldn’t be down here. 

Geralt whipped around in disbelief to see Jaskier, stomping across the shoreline towards them. The bard was dressed in the same green set of clothes he had been in that morning, except now he was positively doused in blood. Geralt’s blood. He was the only spot of color in this dark and dreary plane and the most beautiful thing Geralt had ever seen, the witcher couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

In his shock at seeing Jaskier in what could only be the Underworld, Geralt had failed to notice the bard’s furious state. Jaskier marched up to the witcher’s side and Geralt let out a surprised huff when the bard proceeded to shove him a good few steps away from Charon and his boat.

“I cannot BELIEVE you Geralt! You die for one second and I come here and find you already traipsing onto the bloody ferryboat? I’d have thought there would have been at least a little fight in you!” The witcher took a minute to find his words, aghast and utterly confused about what was happening.

“I didn’t think I had a choice. I’m dead.” Charon decided then to add in his own two cents to the situation.

“He doesn’t have one. Your friend is dead, Jaskier. He must come with me now.” Jaskier laughed, loud and edging on hysterical as he turned to face Charon.

“I think the fuck not, you asinine little boat man. Geralt is mine, and I have decided that he will not be dying, so he will be coming with me back to the surface.” Charon’s figure seemed to grow, leering higher and higher over the bard who couldn’t seem to find it in himself to be even moderately intimidated.

“That does not align with the rules of Death, foolish boy. The witcher has died. Thus he must come with me. There are no second chances, even for the friends of those associated with Death himself.” Geralt watched silently and Jaskier’s face darkened, shadows seeming to wrap around his form, his eyes glowing in the darkness and a vicious grin overtaking his face.

“You underestimate my position in the Underworld, Charon. I am more powerful than you care to know, and more dangerous than you’d like to find out. Necromancers have a sworn kinship with Death, and we have freedom to play with it as much as we so please. If that means making sure the love of my life stays by my side as long as possible, than so be it. Unless you would like me to inform Death that his noble ferryman is disrespecting his dear friend?” 

Charon and Jaskier stayed locked in a silent battle of wills. An exchange seemed to pass between the two, and Jaskier held firm. A few minutes later Charon seemed to step back, taking hold of his oar.

“Very well. Take your witcher back to the surface. But be wary, next time you may not be so quick to come to his aid.” The ferryman pushed off from shore, and Geralt and Jaskier watched him disappear into the river mist in silence. As soon as he was fully gone, Jaskier seemed to brighten, turning around to Geralt with a bright smile that didn’t match the dreary setting.

“Alright then. Now that that’s done why don’t we head on back up and track down Roach? I left her in that clearing, surely she hasn’t gotten too far by now.” Geralt blinked a few times, trying to process the sudden shift in mood. 

“What was- Jaskier, what the fuck just happened?” Finally the bard managed some semblance of sheepishness, his hand coming up to nervously rub at the back of his neck and his eyes stuck on the floor.

“You see darling, I’ve been meaning to find a way to tell you, but I could never quite get it right, and then it just felt too late to say. I’m not exactly....human. I’m a necromancer.” Geralt stepped forward, his hands reaching up to grasp either side of Jaskier’s face and forcing him to look into his eyes.

“Okay.” Now it was Jaskier’s turn to be confused.

“Okay? Just, okay?” Geralt’s thumbs stroked his bard’s cheekbones in hopes to soothe his nerves.

“Yes.” Jaskier couldn’t help but let out a little laugh and the very Geralt-like response, always straight to the point. Lovely. The bard’s arms wrapped around the witcher’s neck, pulling him closer so their foreheads touched.

“Okay.” 

Geralt could feel wisps of his bard’s breath teasing at his lips, and he couldn’t resist closing the gap between them. The last thing Geralt saw before he closed his eyes was that beautiful shade of blue he loved so dearly. And he would see it again when he opened his eyes once more.

There you go! This ended up a little bit longer than expected, but I got carried away. Feel free to send in any more witcher prompts to my inbox and I’ll gladly fill them!

[afewmarvelousthoughts]

Fated Ch. 2

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Hades!Bucky x Persephone!Reader

Summary: Humanity has broken the world. How they did it doesn’t matter. What does is that in doing so they quickened the old gods once more. A century later things are settling into a new order but all is not as it seems. As Fate draws two gods together the cracks begin to show in this new age.  Will their bond tip the delicate balance or restore order to a broken world?

Warnings: N/A (I don’t think.)

A/N: You’re all fucking incredible! Seriously. You’ve been SO damn patient with me here. This is my first AU and it’s haaaaard! I don’t even know if I’m doing this ‘right’ but whatever. I really hope y’all enjoy this and hopefully, you won’t have to wait for another age for chapter 3. 

LOVE YOU PUMPKINS!

OH! And if I missed your tag please let me know! 

Tags are open!

James tears down the passage into the Underworld, clutching the bleeding wound at his side.

“Sir?!” Charon stares shocked, as much to see him here as at the ichor flowing down his master’s side. James didn’t spend much time down here recently, Anthony thought it best they maintain a visible presence among the mortals with things being so unstable.

However, in this moment, it’s the fastest way to get to his brother and rip his throat out.

“I’m fine,” James growls.

Charon blinks, “Uh… sure… Has fine changed meaning topside?” James doesn’t answer as he continues to walk, leaving a glittering trail. “I mean I know things are kind of fuzzy from before but-”

“Shut up!” James bellows at his old friend. Charon’s eyebrows raise. He may be the lord of the dead but it wasn’t like him to speak to his friends in such a way.

He drags his free hand over his face, “I’m sorry…”

“Zeus?” Charon knows only one being alive that can induce this reaction in his master.

“Anthony,” he softly corrects, “but yes.”

“Ah. Should I… call someone…”

“Why?” James stands in front of the door that leads to Anthony’s New York tower. “So they can interfere?”

He slides the door open and stalks through.

When James’ cold stare falls on Peter, annoyance rankles. He didn’t want Anthony’s youngest to be here for this fight.

“Unc-Hade-James,” the boy’s eyes are wide as they notice the wound. “Oh! Do you need a healer I can-”

“Move,” James’ voice is low and menacing.

“But I-” Ever one to do his duty he tries to stand in James’ path.

“I have words for my beloved brother,” he snarls.

“Oh… uh… Zeu-Anthony isn’t seeing anyone he’s-” James whips the weapon from his waistband and aims it at the boy. “In his lab…” 

He slams the door to Anthony’s workshop open with a clatter. Despite the noise doesn’t even look back.

“I thought I said no-”

James fires the weapon, just barely missing his brother’s head. The bolt crashes into the wall, shaking the whole building. He releases another and another causing everything around them to tremble ominously.

“What in the fuck!” Anthony’s voice booms, cracking one of the panes of glass.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” James doesn’t need to below to prove his point. He throws the weapon at his brother and collapses into a chair. Anthony catches the gun-like device staring at it and his brother, in turn, trying to understand why he almost lost his head.

“Explain to me,” James grimaces, “how your fucking grandson ended up with that. Explain why you sent me in there blind and-”

“Wait,” Anthony examines the weapon, “you’ve really gotta be more specific. Which grandson?”

James’ eyes roll back, “Don’t.”

“Hey, I’m not exactly known for my chastity.” James glares at him. Anthony sighs setting the weapon down, “Ok. Yes, I knew it was Heph’s kid. I assumed it would be easy, that he’d be… pliable.” Like his father were the words Anthony doesn’t speak.

Groaning James leans forward a touch, eyeing his brother. “You give your son too little credit. Are you honestly going to tell me you had no idea?” He gestures toward the weapon.

“That some demigod brat had a god-killer?!” Anthony’s fingers tentatively graze the metal. “No, James I didn’t know. Why the hell would I send you in-”

“Why do you do half the things you do brother?!” His anger is cold as ice in his veins as he spits the next words, “Because they suit you. In one way or another, you do as you please when it pleases you, consequences be damned.”

The vein in Anthony’s neck throbs, “What do I gain in killing you?” He says through clenched teeth.

James had to admit it was a fair point. No one truly wanted to do his job, even with the perks that came along with it…

“Hephaestus,” Anthony grumbles.

“I don’t think this was his doing…” Though who’s else it could be he didn’t know.

Anthony levels a dark glare in the middle distance, “I’ll handle this.” His eyes fall to the gold staining James’ side. “Are you gonna be ok?”

James doesn’t respond. Instead, he studies his brother, unease settling in his gut. “How will you handle it?”

“I’m going to talk to my son.” James raises a brow at this. “What?!” Silence hangs.

Anthony sighs heavily. “I am not who I once was…”

None of them were. Not for the first time, something itches in distant corners of James’ mind, something forgotten… fractured. He doesn’t have the energy to waste on such things now.

“If there is a traitor amongst us we need to find out quickly. I need you to-”

“No,” James huffs as he stands. “I’m done for now. You sort this mess, I have no ties to it and I want nothing more to do-”

“So you think if they revolt, if all this goes to shit, it won’t affect you brother?!” Ignoring him James turns to leave.

A small bolt of lightning scorches the marble floor before James’ feet. Far too similar to the actions of Anthony’s grandson earlier.

“You have a duty! To all of us, to your king-” Before his brother can think to move James wraps cold metal fingers around his throat, lifting him inches from the ground, silencing him.

“Duty,” James growls. “I suggest you refrain from words you do not truly understand.” The air around them is electric. “I have a duty to something far greater than you my king.” He spits the title before flinging his brother across the room. “Because you were too weak to bear it.”

“How dare-”

“How dare I what little brother?” James’ voice is velvet which somehow makes it all the more sinister. A subtle dark mist begins to lift from around him in delicate curls. Anthony says nothing more.

“That’s what I thought.” Sighing James turns to leave, Anthony remains on the floor. 

Before he’s out the door James says over his shoulder, “Never forget, I serve her before all others and she is greater than any god. All bow before Death at the end of things brother, even you.”

-

It had been almost two weeks without incident. Despite that, you couldn’t convince yourself that all was well within you.

“Kore?”

“Yes, Mother?” She doesn’t take her eyes off the plant she’s infusing with her power.

“Will you bring me a bit of mint from the greenhouse, with the roots attached?” You were creating hybrid medicinal plants for Hecate—er, Wanda, to use in her craft.

“Of course,” after hours in the lab, fresh air would be nice.

It had rained lightly that morning leaving the ground soft beneath your feet. Each step sent the scent of the soil and the tender grass flooding to your nose. You breathe it in deep. The smell of decay, always present in the earth, was beginning to comfort you, in fact, you were beginning to find yourself seeking it out. That intoxicating odor would be even more present in the greenhouse, you know. The thought quickens your pace.

You take longer than necessary separating a portion of the mint plant, wanting to spend as much time as possible in this humid place filled with that dark, rich, scent. Any longer and Mother will have questions though. With a disappointed sigh, you head out.

As you walk the short distance back to the lab a slight glint in the dark soil ahead of you catches your attention. 

Kneeling you reach your fingers into the damp earth, moving it to reveal three shiny copper coins, their markings long worn away. A smile lifts the corners of your mouth. You’d been finding coins like this for as long as you could remember.

Mother only ever mentioned them in the garden that day you’d killed the tomato plants and you never volunteered the information to her. The coins were yours and yours alone, gifts from the earth they seemed. You kept them in a box, always grabbing one or two when you’d attend a birth or healing—never knowing if you’d need to give one away.

In truth, you never thought much of it, why these coins found their way to you. Now though… Whispers of the strange feeling from before tingle through your body, the desire to plunge your hands into the earth.

Down, something seems to whisper. From the corner of your eye, you notice the movement of shadows.

No. You will not fall prey to whatever this is, not now. Shaking your head you walk briskly back to the lab.

“Finally,” Mother sounds exasperated.

“Sorry,” you say softly, fingers rubbing the smooth surfaces of the coins in your pocket.

Over the next three days, you feel as though a serpent is writhing, painfully, in the pit of your stomach. You try every distraction you can think of to calm it. Burying yourself in your duties only fills you with more dread that you’d have another strange mishap again. Surrounding yourself with the women feels suffocating. Even the pleasures of the flesh do nothing to soothe this ache—as all you can feel when you touch her is the inevitable death hiding beneath her supple skin.

The ache grows leaving you with one clear and present truth—you need to leave. In the past, you had dreamed, fleetingly, of what it would be like to be free of this place but now… This was no passing folly. Something within you screams that if you don’t get away, soon, it will be your undoing.  

You lay on the roof of one of the dorms. The shingles, warm from the midday sun,  provide a kind of hollow comfort. Birds swoop above you against a background of blue and soft white clouds—weightless, untethered, free…

An idea which had been flitting around the outer edges of your mind lands heavy in your chest now.

Wanda would be here in a few hours. Wanda whom Mother knew and trusted. Wanda… who was as free as the birds above you, who had her own house, her own acolytes, and duties which overlapped with your own. Maybe she would allow you to come to Tría House, serve with her for a time… Just… Maybe.

You know the chances are small. Many decades ago you’d asked to go into the city and Mother had raged at you about abandoning your duties for weeks. Any other time you’d tried to broach the issue it was always met with rancor. This may be the only way she would willingly allow you to leave. And leave you must. If she doesn’t allow you... it didn’t warrant thought now. 

As you walk by Mother’s side at sunset to meet Wanda your fingers nervously stroke the coins in your pocket. Three coins you’d found three days before the three-faced goddess arrived… desperately you pray it’s a sign. Though who listened to the prayers of gods you didn’t know.

“Wanda!” Mother proclaims warmly as she enters the front gate.

“Deme,” Wanda embraces her warmly, “so wonderful to see you!” Releasing Mother she turns to you, “Kore, how are you?” She takes both of your hands in hers, drawing you in to kiss your cheeks.

The goddess has the power to hear the unspoken, you know this. Silently, you whisper over and over that you must speak with her alone. There’s a tingle where her skin meets yours. When she pulls back a faint red shimmer colors her irises. Almost imperceptibly she nods.

“Wonderful, thank you.” Your words holding more than a casual greeting.

“Come in, we have food and wine waiting.”

You’ve only just sat down in one of the oversized chairs in the living quarters you share with Mother when, as she turns to pour wine, a red haze colors the room. Immediately her movements cease, a deafening silence falling. 

For a moment you freeze, panic that you’ve somehow done this flooding your system before the obvious cause registers.

Slowly you turn your gaze to Wanda. She’s transformed from the beautiful but earthly creature she was a moment ago. Her modern fitted burgundy and black garments replaced with flowing red and ash robes, her face shifts from youthful to beautiful to haggard so subtly you doubt you’re actually witnessing it, red tendrils of power flow from her coloring everything.

This is the goddess of witchcraft in her true form. You’re awestruck. Her power is great and terrifying but a warm smile fills her face removing any traces of fear.

“Tell me Kore, why would you ever think you’d done this?” Lazily her hand gestures to the room.

“Strange things have been happening to me of late…” Saying more seems like a risk.

Wanda nods as if she understands. “What did you need to say to me, sweet one?” Your eyes slide to your Mother’s still figure. “She cannot reach us here.”

“Where is here?”

“Don’t trouble yourself with that.” A smirk plays on her slightly shifting lips, “Tell me what you need.”

Guilt holds you back for but a moment until you feel the churning need in your gut once more, solidifying your resolve. “I need to leave this place, goddess.”

“This is your home Kore, your seat of power to be shared eternally with your mother.” She pauses, appearing to wrestle a bit with her next words, “As it has always been.”

You catch her gaze, holding it with determination, “But… must it always be? I don’t know how to explain it, Wanda, but something is wrong—inside me.”

Suddenly it feels like she’s looking through you. It isn’t painful but to say it was pleasant would be a stretch. Something dark flits across her features causing the red of the room to flicker a bit before strengthening once more.

“I wish I had the words. But this… restlessness is driving me mad. There is something pulling at me and I know I will not find it caged here for the rest of time.”

She nods, “And what would you have me do?”

“Let me serve you.”

“You’re a goddess Kore-”

“I serve mother. I have no altar to accept their offerings, none raise up praise in my name. I’m a goddess in title alone.”

“Are you certain this isn’t what is causing this unrest within you? Would you not have them raise the name Kore to their-”

“No,” you say with utter conviction. “I do not desire their worship, I don’t long to hear my name in prayers. I’d rather be nothing than have that.” You can see this is confusing to Wanda. Gods should crave these things… “At least not now. I cannot serve nor seek praise from a world and a people I know nothing of…”

“Ah,” this seems to make sense to her. “You seek pilgrimage, not servitude.”

“Perhaps I can do both under your guidance… if you’d take me.”

“Kore…”

“Mother will not let me leave this place… She never has.” Your desperation breaks, pushing yourself from the chair you hit your knees before her, grasping at her flowing garment.

“I beg you Wanda, Hecate, mighty goddess help me get out so I can tame this monster growing inside of me. I will forever be in your debt.”

Her hand reaches down, tilting your chin up. “You don’t need to grovel my dear, Kore. I’d be happy to help you.”

The room is devoid of that ethereal red glow in an instant. You’re back in your chair though you don’t recall moving from the floor and Mother seems entirely unfazed. Quickly you dart a glance to Wanda, a slight red glow at her fingertips. She gins and gives you a wink before your mother turns back with the wine for the goddess.

You listen as you always have when another member of the pantheon visits, a perfect image of an obedient child, despite being a grown woman—despite this feeling of being torn apart from the inside out. For now, you must appear as Mother would expect, the fear that even the slightest deviation would alert her to your plan.

“Kore is doing exceptional work in the lab, truly creating some miraculous specimens which I believe will aid you greatly.” Mother smiles at you.

“Thank you, Mother.”

Wanda looks at you appraisingly, “You know Deme, I would love to teach Kore some of my craft. It could be incredibly helpful in her work to know the intricacies of the work her specimens contribute to.”

“I’d love that!” You throw mother an excited smile, hoping it’s not overdone.

“I think that would be wonderful. Would you have the time to come here though, Wanda? I know your plate is so full.”

“Well,” Wanda takes a sip of her wine, “I’d prefer to have Kore at TrÍa House with me. It would be better to-”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, but I cannot allow that.” Mother’s features look stormy. “Kore belongs here.”

“Of course she does,” Wanda’s tone is thick as honey, “I would never think to remove her from her seat, simply to allow her to learn in a new environment. I’ve learned a great deal from working in-”

“I understand. However, my answer is no. If you’d like to teach her the craft it can be done here.”

“Mother,” it takes all your effort to keep your desperation from coloring your voice, “I would like to go, please. Learning from the goddess would be an honor and to see Tría House would-”

“My answer is final, Kore!” Mother’s voice booms in the space.

Red pulses around Wanda for a moment. “Demeter, is that necessary? It was only a suggestion.”

“A suggestion!? Taking my daughter from me is not just a suggestion. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“What I understand is that you would deny her the opportunity to gain the gift of knowledge to keep her here.” There’s more venom in Wanda’s voice than you’d ever anticipated.

“Please, Mother. I must grow to become worthy of my title. I… I can’t do that here.” You voice behind to shake at the end.

“So you want to leave, is that it?!”

“No! I need-”

“Need,” Mother’s tone is mocking. “Go to your chambers, Kore. I must speak with Wanda.”

“I am not a child!” Your voice cracks through the room as you thunder from your chair, sending the furniture flying back. Power pulses in your body, your eyes meeting your mother’s rage filed glare without flinching. For a moment, there seems to be a shaking beneath your feet, a distant cry of something from far below.

“I am a goddess! I need to grow outside of these gates Mother. Or would you rather I wither and die here?!” You were inches from her now. She showed no sign of budging until your final words but she says nothing more.

“Am I a prisoner or your daughter?”

“Of course you’re no prisoner…”

You let the rage slip from you a bit, “Then if I am not a prisoner give me your blessing to leave. I need this, Mother. Please.”

“I will keep her safe, Demeter. You must know this.” Mother throws Wanda a murderous glare before turning tired eyes back to you.

“It is a simple request, Mother.”

“If I didn’t know better I’d think the two of you plotted this.” She pauses and you don’t dare breathe. “Fine. Forty days, Kore. After that I expect you to return with a wealth of new knowledge to better serve our purposes here.”

“Thank you, Mother!” You drop to your knees before her, clasping her hands and kissing her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“Forty days. No more.”

“I swear it.”

“Gather your things. I will help Wanda with the plants.”

You exchange a grateful look with Wanda before bolting, not wanting to give Mother time to change her mind.

In moments you’re pounding on Abigail’s door. “Abigail!” You’re practically giggling.

“Kore,” she smiles at your obvious excitement, “what’s happening?”

“I’m going to Tría House for a time to study with Wanda!” Taking a breath you attempt to calm yourself, “I… I was wondering if I could borrow a bag. I haven’t had need of one until now.”

“Of course!” Abigail beams at you, “How exciting! Tría House is stunning you’re going to love it! Come in while I find one.”

Abigail’s room in the main dorm had been her home for over ten years. It was a small space but Kore always felt comforted here, grounded. Even though Abigail was a human she had a way of making everyone around her feel at ease.

“How long will you be gone?” She asks over her shoulder, rifling through the closet.

“Forty days, so not too long.”

“Long enough,” Abigail says with a touch of melancholy handing you a large bag.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” You take it gratefully. “Besides, you’ve been gone on missions longer.”

“True, but I always expect you to be here when I return.”

Your heart swells, if you could take her with you this would be perfect. You can’t linger, “I have to hurry.”

“Of course. Have a wonderful time.”

You pull her into a tight embrace, “Thank you, Abigail.”

“Anything, always goddess.”

Truthfully, you live a simple life here at Eleusis House compared to that of the other houses of the gods. Because of this, you don’t have much to fill your bag with. The copper coins you have found over the years you tuck into the bottom covered with your simple garments, your small ceremonial dagger, and… that’s it. What more did you need? There was a world out there waiting ready to fill your bag with its gifts. 

Mother and Wanda wait for you by the front gate, wrapped in tense silence.

You aren’t sure what to say, you’d never had to say goodbye to your mother.

“Thank you,” it seems as good as anything.

“Yes… well… forty days.”

“I know.” You reach out to her but she doesn’t take the offer.

“Travel safe daughter.” With that, she turns away.

“Ready?” Wanda’s face is warm.

“Absolutely.”

Wanda wraps her glowing power around the plants you and Mother created, effortlessly levitating the boxes and steps out the gates.

You pause at the threshold though. This place was all you’d known, all you remembered. Life began and ended here up until now. Despite the slight desire, you don’t look back, lifting your foot you take a confident step out into a new world. In an instant, the churning within you ceases and you know you’ve done the right thing.

As you follow Wanda neither of you see the three women in the alley across from Eleusis House, their hooded capes covering them head to toe. You do not see them turn to one another and nod in seeming approval before fading into the shadows.

-

James’ nose fills with the intoxicating scent of Narcissus flowers, rich damp earth, and rain. His heart flutters oddly at the smell.

Suddenly he gasps for air. Choking—he’s choking… no. Drowning. He can feel the water flooding his lungs, even with their supernatural strength they cannot force the liquid out.

Dull light glitters through the dark water above him. He reaches for it with his left hand but there’s nothing there, just the dull ache of absence. Would Lady Death take him in such a way? Was his duty over?

A loud roaring bark next to his ear wrenches him from the clutches of the dream. He shoots up, body trembling, glistening with moisture. Cerberus licks the back of his hand, looking up with worried eyes.

The hounds had broken down the door to make sure their master was alright. He couldn’t even be angry.

“Thank you.”

Sleeping would be impossible after that dream. With a groan, he stands padding over to the balcony doors. Flinging them open he steps into the cool night air taking in the glittering city skyline.

A breeze picks up, running its fingers over his damp skin, making him shiver not unpleasantly and filling his nostrils with the scent of Narcissus flowers… damp earth… and rain.

Something had changed. He can feel it to his marrow, in the tingling at the back of his skull.

Cerberus follows him out, raising their heads to the air sniffing. A small whimper escapes the beast drawing James from his thoughts. He mistakes the noise as a sign of hunger. 

“I could use a snack too. Come on.” He looks out into the night once more, pushing the feeling aside, before turning his back on the night.

The hounds linger behind, eyes on the three shadowy figures standing on the roof of the building opposite whom its master didn’t seem to notice. In an instant, they’re gone but the scent of someone familiar lingers.

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