The Fallen

by Ali Winters

  The sound of his shoes echoed off the rock as he made his way forward at a steady clip. The lack of time passing within this area crawled down his spine like a thousand spider legs. He had always felt the passing of time, but here, it did not exist. He picked up his pace.

  Silas stumbled forward as a body bumped into him, knocking into his shoulder. He spun to glare, a sharp comment on his tongue, only to stop when he saw what it was.

  A shade, with the shapeless body of a human and the head of a lion, continued past him. The arms, legs, body.… they were only rough approximations of the human form, and not a strip of clothing adorned the grayish body. He looked behind him and spotted another shapeless form, this time with a long curtain of filthy and tangled hair.

  The longer he looked, the more that came. Heads of creatures, faces without their features, some with hair that resembled feathers. They filled the tunnel until there was barely room for him to move, without being jostled and shoved about.

  It was as if they didn’t sense him, didn’t see him as they moved along. As if he wasn’t on the same plane of existence, or they were in a trance that could not be broken.

  Silas turned away from the shades and hurried, pushing his way through the wending tunnel. Still, more and more of them came, until he thought he might drown in the sea of them.

  Then he was free as they burst through the end of the tunnel. The shades moved in a wide formation, heading toward the water ahead.

  Silas stepped to the side, out of their way, to gain some much needed breathing room. It was then he took everything in.

  Steep rocky mountains skirted the river that crossed his path several yards ahead. Only a thin strip of land stretched on endlessly from the right to left. Silas squinted into the distance but could see no end, could see no turn or bend in the river or land. Just an endless mountain range.

  A skitter of rock to his right, and the slight sound of fabric hissing against itself, had him whirling, ready to draw his power to him. Ready to fight whatever dared lurk up on him from behind.

  SILAS

  SILAS STRAIGHTENED HIS spine at seeing the old man sitting cross-legged on the ground, his back up against the rocky wall of the mountain that he had come from. Coal black eyes watched Silas as he approached, stopping several feet from him.

  Silas scoffed inwardly, sensing the magic dwelling within the beast. He might look like nothing more than a haggard old man, but he was so much more.

  “Cerberus,” Silas said in way of greeting.

  The man lifted his head, a scowl forming. “You trespass, Guardian. You have no business here, go back to the realm where you belong.” The words were nearly a snarl as they left his mouth.

  Silas sneered in response. “Watch your tone. Why I am here is none of your business.”

  Cerberus’s head spun in a circle, fast and blurring his features, stopping on a face distorted by rage. His eyes nearly burned as red as fire.

  “You have no power here,” Cerberus spat, each word punctuated by the snap of teeth clacking together.

  While the sight of a head spinning in such a way was nauseating, Silas did not have time to fight with Hades’s pet. “Tell me where I can find your master.”

  Cerberus hissed at the word master. Silas didn’t care that he was baiting the thing. It needed to learn its place among those far more powerful. “You think you are above the laws of the Underworld.” He pointed toward a path that led up the mountain. “Go and fetch him. Pay the toll.”

  Enough. He had had enough of this back and forth. They were wasting time now. Silas reached down and grabbed him by the tattered shirt, bringing his face dangerously close. “No. I will not play your games this time, Dog. You will take me to the gate. Now. Or I will destroy you. The choice is yours.”

  Cerberus scoffed and shoved Silas’s hands off of him. He leaned over to the side, placing his hands on the ground, and he shifted to his knees. Though he stayed on all fours, tilting his head up, he kept his eyes averted, and, when he spoke again, his words held little strength. “You should know better than to mess with the powers that be in a realm that is not your own.”

  Silas waved a hand and pulled at the beast’s life thread, coaxing it forward. It took far more strength than any he’d ever felt before, yet he refused to let the strain show on his face.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” Cerberus hissed.

  But Silas didn’t stop. He pulled on the energy until it burst through Cerberus’s chest and hovered in the air between them. Black and gold, glittering with the light and the dark and every shade in between.

  “Did you think I was speaking with empty threats?”

  “Stop, stop!” Cerberus cried. “Put it back!” He waved a hand and the path up the mountain vanished, hidden again by jagged rock and wilted shrubbery.

  Silas remained unmoving, taking in the sniveling creature, until Cerberus huffed and waved his wrinkled hand once more and the large wrought iron gates appeared before them. Only then did he release his hold on the life force, letting it snap back into place.

  Cerberus grunted, and with more force than it had a right to own at that moment, it snarled, “Beware those who do not pay the toll. It is not I you must answer to.”

  Silas turned to tell him to keep silent, but the beast had already vanished. He was right, Gaia damn him. He would answer to Hades for taking a short cut. There was a reason those tolls were set in place. But this was for the balance, this was a mission from the three fates themselves. And though he was not a god, he was nearly as old as the one he would soon face.

  He pushed his way through the gate, the metal screeching on its hinges. The distant booming and constant rumble of erupting volcanoes met his ears first. Then the City of the Dead came into view. It stretched out, separating the gates from the fiery range. Tall buildings reached toward the cavernous ceiling that was the sky of this realm, black and rough, like broken bone sharpened into fine points. Each one, far larger than G.R.I.M. Headquarters, and a single structure in the center dwarfed all the others.

  That one belonged to Hades himself.

  Hades stood not more than a few strides away, arms crossed, his cloak billowing out behind him. Silas met Hades’s gaze, unflinching. The god radiated power in waves and commanded his obedience with nothing more than a glance from his up-tilted ebony eyes, which glinted as though they had captured stars long before the Underworld even existed. The long braid of sleek, black hair was slung over one shoulder, hitting about the middle of his waist. The god dropped his arms and sauntered forward.

  “You know better than to barge into my domain without paying the toll,” Hades said. His demeanor remained calm, but the weight of his words said all Silas needed to know; that he could end his existence with a wave of his hand.

  “I have come seeking to collect a soul that has entered your realm.” His heart hammered against his chest, and he felt as if it would explode if it beat any harder. It was a bold demand to make on a god.

  Hades barked out a laugh, short yet sharp. “You know all souls belong to me the second they have been reaped. And, yet, still you trespass and stand before me, knowingly demanding what rightfully is mine?” Hades closed the distance between them, until Silas could only see those dark pools of ebony. Then he added darkly, words dripping with fire and venom, “And without paying the toll to my Cerberus?”

  “It is for the balance of life and death that I ask. Not for my enjoyment.”

  Hades leaned back and turned away. He paced back and forth casually, hands folded neatly at the curve of his lower back. “Let’s pretend I will actually humor this absurd request of yours.” Hades sent a cutting glance toward him. “Which soul of mine do you seek?”

  “That of a Watcher.”

  “A—” Hades raised a brow, twisting his mouth into a frown. “A Watcher?”

  “Yes.”

  Hades’s dark eyes cleared. “You are insane if you think I would ever relinquish such a powerful soul.” He waved his hand toward Silas. “
You are dismissed. Leave my realm and do not bother me with such asinine requests again, or I will end your existence without hesitation.”

  Silas refused to flinch for him anymore than he would his pet.

  “Even,” he said smoothly, daring to take a few steps closer, “if the Moirai commanded me to seek you out?”

  Whatever Hades would have said died in the air between them. He might yet be punished still. But it said much about the god that he understood, that even though Silas himself wasn’t a god, he was an integral part of the balance. And even as a god, Hades was still beneath the Moirai.

  Hades collected himself quickly. “The Moirai have not spoken since the dawn of time. You know that as well as I. Why do you claim such a lie?”

  “It is no lie.” Silas reached to straighten his cloak, forgetting once again that he no longer wore it. A habit he’d never been aware of until this point. “I offer you payment in exchange, though was not bid to do so by the fates. A soul more powerful than hers, and that of a Watcher.”

  Hades tilted his head as curiosity danced within his eyes. His long braid slipped off his shoulder and hung down his back. “What is happening in your realm that you can promise such a thing?”

  Silas shook his head. “It does not matter. Will you trade me this soul for another?” A wave of ice seemed to flood his veins. He felt sick for what he would say next. He risked a lot, including the balance, on an uncertainty. Risked it all on the chance that he was right in how things would turn out. “And I can promise many more will come as well.”

  Volcanoes erupted beyond the city, the molten rock giving the Underworld its light. The god stayed quiet for a long time, his back turned on Silas as he looked out across the City of the Dead. It was beautiful, in its own way. Though Silas suspected that there was more that he would not wish to see close up.

  Then again, he was a Dark Guardian, and because his existence was all he had, he would never step foot in it. There would be nothing to send to the Underworld should he cease to be. He would never learn what was beyond this point. He cleared his throat, pushing away the thought, and waited for a response.

  “Tell me what is so special about this particular soul,” Hades said at long last.

  “I must correct a mistake. And I need her to do so.” He squared his shoulders. “The Moirai have decreed it.”

  Silas was treading on dangerous ground, yet he could not come out and say it in the simplest way. The Moirai would torture him for eternity if he sought an easy path for every part of their command. He had risked enough denying Cerberus. He could not risk more.

  “If the Moirai decreed it, then it must come to pass.”

  Silas felt his breath whoosh out from him, releasing the fear of uncertainty. Of course Hades would do as the Moirai instructed, but that did not mean he would not punish Silas for his role.

  Hades turned back to face him. “It is agreed then, you will reap more of these Watchers in exchange for her soul?”

  Silas nodded.

  Hades pulled his cloak tightly around his body, the edges picking up a layer of dust that swirled around his feet, growing taller and thicker as it climbed the god’s body. “One more thing.” The dust climbed to his chin, nearly swallowing him. “Is she to be a Watcher or a Dark Guardian?”

  The question took Silas off guard, he hadn’t expected it to matter either way. “A Guardian. She was never meant to be a Watcher.”

  Hades’s mouth tilted up at the corners. “I see…” Hades said as the cloud covered all but his eyes. “Then I trust you have the body intact?”

  “I do,” Silas said. There was no time for more words as Hades vanished, leaving him alone.

  He waited and waited, watching the random pattern of volcanoes as they flung molten rock high into the air. It should have landed all over the city, burning it to the ground, but somehow the fiery magma stayed within its space.

  It seemed an hour or two had passed before Hades returned—or should have passed if time had existed in this realm. Then Hades appeared, in a storm of black cloud and ash, before Silas.

  When the air cleared, all Silas saw was Hades. He frowned, about to say something he was sure to regret. Then the god stepped to the side and revealed Nivian.

  Nivian looked as if he’d stolen her off the dais in the hidden room beneath G.R.I.M. Headquarters.

  Her skin so pale, it was nearly translucent, lips still tinted with a dark purple until they were almost blue. Such a change from her sun darkened skin. Nivian’s chest moved up and down as she took in short breaths. Those dark eyes remained unfocused.

  But her hair. That was different. A thin, white streak ran down one side.

  “Let us get this over with,” Silas said.

  Nivian raised a hand and took a shaky step forward. Hades caught her by the arm, holding her still at the same time as he kept her from toppling over. She mumbled to herself, or it could have been directed toward them.

  Silas couldn’t tell. Her words were unintelligible.

  Hades didn’t even attempt to understand her as he moved her around like she was nothing more than a model made to be positioned for a work of art.

  Nivian’s head drooped, and Silas suppressed the urge to go to her and help support her as she became accustomed to—not life, but perhaps her body. He had no idea what she had gone through, how many rivers she had already traversed. There was no telling what part of her remained. If anything remained at all.

  When she was steady enough to stand on her own, Hades released her.

  “The watch, if you don’t mind,” he said, holding out an open palm toward Silas, though his eyes never left the girl.

  Silas reached inside his pocket and pulled out the dark metal watch. His thumb brushed over the lid once, across the delicate lace pattern of leaves and whorls, before placing it into Hades’s waiting hand.

  Long fingers curled over the golden time piece, clutching it tightly. Of course he would have difficulty letting go of a soul that should have always belonged to him.

  “It was partially my mistake in letting her life force get past me. I was in a hurry to create new Guardians fast enough to keep up with the ever growing population.” He didn’t know why he’d said it. A pathetic justification for his error, for letting Yeva grab hold of her life force and give her a soul. For taking what should have belonged to a god.

  And for never realizing any of it to begin with. Now, he was paying the price for his carelessness. They all were—perhaps Nivian most of all.

  Hades pressed down on the crown and opened the lid. For a long moment, nothing happened.

  A groan passed Nivian’s lips as a single word fell, then silence. She swayed in place, her hand going to her head. Only her hand was no longer there. Her body seemed to fall apart, molecule by molecule, forming a blinding swirl of power.

  Then she was gone, and, in her place, a storm of particles, everything of who she was ripped apart. Silas couldn't help but cringe.

  Hades made a motion with his hand, elegant and practiced, a scowl etched across his features. His fingers curled and the essence that was Nivian shot toward the watch, joining the life force already held within.

  Hades snapped the lid closed when every last speck was captured.

  Then the realm around them went dark. Or, at least, it felt dark, as if the sun had set. Though in the Underworld, there was no sun. Silas blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the lower level of light. He’d not realized how powerful Nivian truly was, how much light and power burned within her.

  When he’d threatened her on that riverbank, he had known she possessed more power than the average Watcher, yet this far exceeded his expectations.

  The watch glowed like liquid gold, but when Hades handed it to him, it was as cool as a stone plucked from river water. Silas placed it within his pocket and turned, striding toward the gate, more than anxious to depart.

  “Silas,” Hades called over his shoulder. “Be sure to place the life force and her soul into her body within t
he realm she should belong to. We don’t want to repeat any mistakes.” His words were true. Cutting, but true.

  Silas ground his teeth together, clenching his fists tightly at his sides, and took another step forward.

  Hades chuckled, the sound echoed off the rock, seeming to surround him from all angles. Mocking. “And one more thing…”

  Silas turned to look over his shoulder, dreading what might come out of the god’s mouth.

  “The cost of letting her go will not simply be more Watchers to take her place, but you must destroy all records of how to get to this realm. I might not be so willing to make such a deal again.”

  Silas nodded once, then strode back through the tunnel entrance.

  SILAS

  SILAS WATCHED YET another page burn to ash in his palm, watched as the small flame consumed the edges, turning the parchment as black as the inky words written upon it. Secrets. The stack of books on his table dwindled page by page and one by one.

  Perhaps he was foolish to not burn them all at once, but he wanted to read them one last time. It was knowledge every Guardian had, though they were books of legend in their minds, he knew they were real. He had been the only one of his kind for so long, that by the time there were more than a handful of Dark Guardians, the world had settled from the wild living thing it had once been, to something slow and peaceful.

  Silas couldn’t bear the thought that all these books would be forever destroyed. So he scanned each page for the knowledge that would be forever lost. Leaving them mostly intact. His history, their history, was not something he could see completely destroyed. But he also couldn’t risk Hades’s wrath by outright disobeying his orders.

  He wanted to spare what pages he could and destroy only those with the knowledge that the Underworld existed and could be reached. What if he needed that knowledge again? So he destroyed only what he must, leaving behind small kernels of truth that could only be pieced together if one knew what to look for and which texts to search.