Chapter 238 – Charon, the Death
Icarus:
As I lay on the bed, paralyzed by the poison spreading through my bloodstream, a peculiar figure shrouded in a black cloak sat near me. I couldn't see its face, obscured as it was by the deep shadows of its hood.
"Pleased to meet you. My name is Charon," he said, his voice low, yet imbued with an inescapable weight. "But you mortals... you know me as Death."
I didn't know how to respond. Its voice was peculiar—neither distinctly male nor female. The candlelight seemed to recoil from it, as though even brightness fled its presence.
The figure extended a hand. At first, it was nothing but bone, yet as it drew nearer, membranes and flesh began to materialize, wrapping around the skeletal frame until it became a gray-skinned hand.
"I feed on life, and yours seems to be nearing its end," it said, withdrawing its hand and tucking it back beneath the cloak.
"You're strange... very strange. The threads of fate are all tangled around you. There are too many..." The cloaked figure leaned closer.
"An ordinary person has a single thread of fate... someone in politics might have five at most. But you... your entire being is covered in threads, so numerous I can barely see you. Strange... very strange. Only beings like the Go..." The sentence stopped abruptly.
"But you're just a simple human... How is this possible? It seems even Death is surprised by you, boy."
Charon stood and began pacing.
"The threads of fate are untouched by time, for they are time itself. Perhaps this abundance of threads is merely an echo of something yet to come..." it mused aloud.
The figure in black remained motionless, studying me closely.
"It's rare for a mortal to see me before their time... and rarer still for one to continue seeing and hearing me. Usually, they catch only a shadow of me out of the corner of their eye."
It leaned in further, its unseen eyes seemingly dissecting every part of me.
"It seems even my destiny is tied to yours," it said, reaching out and placing an icy finger on my forehead.
"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Icarus. Something tells me you'll lead many to meet me before their time. But that depends on your luck... if the scales of fate tip against you, I'll come for you tonight."
Charon stepped back slowly.
"I'll give you a piece of advice, Icarus: never let an oracle touch you... they won't like what they see."
Charon turned toward the darkness, a place the candlelight dared not reach. Before disappearing entirely, he glanced back one final time.
"We'll meet again sooner or later, boy, because in the end... everyone comes to me."
And with that, Charon stepped into the shadows and vanished.
***
I woke from the sea of darkness in my dreams. The room was empty and silent. The strange figure in black had vanished, and the shadow in the corner of the wall, which had seemed to watch me, was no longer there.
Was it just a dream?
I lay still, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. A heavy emptiness filled the air around me. Everything felt like a distant blur until the panic returned. That familiar, terrible sensation overtook me again. My chest tightened, and the suffocating wave hit like a storm.
It was as though I was drowning in open air. My lungs refused to obey; my throat emitted desperate gasps, but no air passed through. It was a brutal fight against my own body, and the agony consumed me.
"Icarus!" A soft, familiar voice cut through the panic.
Helen.
She appeared through the hole in the wall and rushed to me, her eyes filled with worry.
"I'm so sorry... I left you alone," she whispered, kneeling beside me. Her presence radiated a warmth that almost made me forget my despair.
Helen leaned closer, placing a firm hand on my chest and softly kissing my forehead.
"I did it. Just like I said I would. I'm going to save you," she said, revealing a small glass vial in her hand. Its contents glowed faintly.
My strength was fading quickly. All I wanted in that moment was an end to the torture—a release. For Helen to let me go, to allow the suffering to cease.
"You're going to be fine," she insisted, her voice trembling but filled with determination. She gently lifted me, resting my head in her lap. That simple act adjusted my position just enough for a sliver of air to pass through my lungs.
That shallow breath felt like a lifeline, a glimpse of hope amidst the chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength I had left, fighting to draw more air. Helen cradled my face, her eyes locking onto mine.
"I won't lose you," she whispered, pressing her forehead against mine. Her voice carried both determination and desperation, as if every word bore the weight of her hopes.
"Drink this, please. It'll help, okay?" Helen said as she poured the viscous, glowing liquid into a cup. Her trembling hands steadied as she focused, pouring with great care. Her tear-streaked face revealed her anguish, but her eyes remained resolute, refusing to let me slip away.
"This is all we have. We can't waste a drop," she murmured, almost a prayer, as she sat down beside me.
That night became one of the hardest we'd ever faced. Helen's hands shook as she carefully spooned the liquid into my mouth. Every drop felt like a blade, burning my throat as it went down. The bitter, metallic taste was unbearable, yet Helen pressed on, determined to stay composed despite the torture I was enduring.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into unconsciousness. But Helen never left. She stayed by my side, gripping my hand tightly as though her presence alone kept me tethered to the world. When the chill of dawn crept in, Helen lay beside me, wrapping her arms around me to share her warmth.
The days that followed blurred into a haze of pain and fever. My sense of time dissolved entirely. Whatever Helen had given me seemed to amplify the agony before offering any relief. I burned from within as though trapped in an endless inferno. My body poured sweat, the fever consuming me and pulling me to the edge of consciousness. Through it all, Helen remained by my side, unshaken. Her hands cooled my fevered brow, and her voice whispered soothing words I could barely comprehend.
Gradually, the suffocating sensation faded. The unbearable symptoms began to relent, leaving me more lucid with each passing day. I felt my strength returning, as though I were emerging from a relentless nightmare.
When I finally opened my eyes, the room was quiet, save for the soft rhythm of Helen's breathing. She lay beside me, her face turned toward me in peaceful slumber. Her serene expression belied the exhaustion I knew she bore.
I looked at her hand, still holding mine, and something caught my attention. On the back of her hand, there was a distinct mark. An "A," as though seared into her skin with a branding iron. The scar was fresh, and I knew it hadn't been there before.
Helen noticed my gaze and, in a quick motion, tried to hide the mark with her other hand. But it was too late.
"O... what is that?" I asked weakly, my voice still raw and strained but heavy with concern.
She hesitated, her gaze faltering for a moment. Instead of answering, Helen leaned in and placed a long, silent kiss on my forehead. When she pulled away, I saw her face was streaked with tears once more. Her pain spilled over in every movement.
"It was to save you, Icarus," she whispered, her voice breaking with each word. "I told you... I would save you, no matter the cost."
Slowly, Helen raised her marked hand and showed me the scar again. The skin was still red, swollen as if from a recent burn. She seemed to want me to understand without having to explain.
"I went to a guard outpost..." she began, but her voice faltered. Helen took a deep breath before continuing, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "That's where I got the medicine. I made a deal for it..."
"A deal?" I croaked, my voice hoarse and weighted with anguish.
Helen nodded, her expression grave. "I showed them that I could wield aura. In exchange for the medicine... I am now Athena's property. I've been conscripted into her army... and soon, I'll be sent to Agoge. I'll have to fight in the war."
Her words hit like a sharp blade, cutting deep. The mark on her hand wasn't just a symbol of sacrifice; it was a sentence. My mind spun with the implications.
Helen leaned closer, her eyes locking onto mine, overflowing with a mixture of sorrow and resolve.
"I'll stay here until you're fully recovered," she said softly, but her voice carried a crushing weight. "But this... this is goodbye, Icarus. We will never see each other again."
***
That event was the spark that ignited a chain of destruction and pain, leaving an indelible mark on my past life. Losing Helen, the only person I ever loved, felt as though the ground had been torn from beneath my feet. In her final moments, as her frail body grew weaker and her breath faltered, I held her in my arms, feeling the warmth of her life slowly fade away. The light in her eyes dimmed until there was nothing left but emptiness.
The gods' war took her from me. In their arrogance, with their petty disputes and games of power, they stole the most precious thing I had. In that moment, the world lost all meaning.
Despair quickly gave way to rage. A consuming, overwhelming rage that burned like a storm of fire in my heart. The love that once illuminated my path turned to ashes, and from those ashes, something dark was born. I wanted everything to be engulfed in flames, for the entire world to pay for what had been taken from me.
It was then, with her lifeless body still in my arms, that I made my decision. I would become the greater evil, a scourge that would obliterate everything in its path. There would be no heaven or hell that could escape my wrath. I embraced the darkness, becoming an absolute force—a power that would acknowledge nothing but my own desire for destruction. If the gods saw themselves as superior to all, then I would be something above them, something even they could not hope to stop.