Thana stepped through the portal, the heavy atmosphere of the netherworld immediately settling around her. The dim light, the familiar mist clinging to everything—this was her home. She exhaled softly, glad to be away from the bright, suffocating halls of the heavenly realm. The whispers, the stares—they didn't bother her here.
Just as she began to relax, something small and fast darted toward her from the mist. Thana froze, her eyes narrowing as a tiny creature fluttered in front of her. It was one of the messengers of the netherworld—a little, nearly bat-like being with large, bright eyes and large, moth-like wings all in tatters. And in one final whirl, she transformed into a human.
"Thana! Thana!" the creature wailed in a loud voice, now looking quite terrified.
Thana arched an eyebrow as she straightened her back, and her hand was on the edge of her scythe that always hung at her right side. "What is it?"
"There's an intruder!" the creature blurted, circling her even faster now. "In your land! Near the river!"
Thana frowned. An intruder in the netherworld? That was rare. The souls here were usually too broken, too lost to cause trouble. But an intruder near the river? That was dangerous.
"Show me," Thana said simply.
Without another word, the creature zipped ahead, leading her through the twisted paths of the netherworld. Thana followed quickly, her cloak brushing against the ground as she walked towards the intruder. The mist seemed thicker than usual, and the further they went, the more unsettled the air felt.
As they neared the river, Thana could sense the disruption. The normally calm and eerie silence of the netherworld was broken by distant sounds—something was off. The river, which often flowed quietly, now seemed to rumble, as if agitated.
Finally, they reached the riverbank.
Across the way, there was a man by the river, his back towards her but the way he stood told her much about his state. His clothes were torn, and he looked like he had fought his way through something—perhaps even himself. He stood there looking at the river as if he were expecting someone or something.
"Get away from the river," Thana shouted cuttingly; disturbing the quietness of the night.
The man didn't move. He did not look at Thana as if he did not even hear the words she had said to him. "I can't," he coughed, and his voice was hoarse and strained.
Thana approached him, her scythe slightly emitting a light within the darkness of the netherworld. "The river isn't a place for the living," she said.
The man turned then and Thana looked to his face, noticing his eyes were filled with desperation. It was the same expression of a lost and broken man.
"I'm looking for someone," he said; his voice was shaking."My brother. He… he fell into the river. I need to find him."
Thana's gaze softened, but only slightly. She had seen this kind of desperation before. "If your brother has entered the river," she said slowly, "he's gone. The river erases everything—his memories, his identity. He's not the person you remember anymore."
The man shook his head and argued violently as if he could not accept the words that came from her mouth. "No! There has to be a way to bring him back! There has to be something I can do!"
Thana stepped closer, her voice calm but unyielding. "There is nothing you can do. If you follow him, you too will be drowned in that river."
The man's eyes flickered with pain; he looked like he might collapse. His shoulders slumped and he let out a breath.
"What do I have to do?" He asked in a very low tone, almost a whisper. "He was all I had…"
Thana watched him closely, her expression unreadable. She knew that kind of loss all too well—the feeling of being left with nothing, with no one. But the river didn't care about grief or love. It took everything from those who entered it.
"You move forward," she said quietly. "There's no bringing him back. You have to let him go."
The man stood there with his eyes fixed on the river, clenching his fist, and he was visibly shaking. He didn't speak, but Thana could sense that something was going on in his head. Slowly, he seemed to accept her words. He breathed heavily, slumping down ever so slightly, and stepped a little away from the edge of the river.
With that, Thana relaxed, and she also loosened her grip on the scythe she had been holding tightly. "You will find peace," she whispered. "But only if you stop looking for what's already lost."
The man just nodded his head, his eyes still filled with pain but no longer wild with desperation. He looked at the waters of the river before turning away, before teleporting out of the the netherworld.
As the man disappeared, Thana stood there for a moment, lidtening to the silent hum of the river. The souls drifted peacefully again, and the air around her seemed to settle.
The little creature that had brought her the news fluttered back to her side, its tiny voice still nervous. "What do we do now, Thana?"
Thana glanced at it, then back at the river. "We do what we always do," she replied. "We guide them. And if they refuse to listen, we stop them from making mistakes."
With that, she turned and began walking back toward her dwelling. The mist parted before her, and the quiet, familiar rhythm of the netherworld returned. It was a place of silence, of shadows, and it was the only place where Thana ever felt at peace.
But even here, there were those who could not let go. Even here, some souls were bound by their memories, their grief. Thana understood that more than anyone.
As she walked, the soft glow of the river faded behind her, and the heavy mist closed in once more, embracing her in the quiet solitude of the netherworld.