Page 29 of The Don's Eternal Vows

And so, I choose the light.

But still, a voice of caution murmurs in the back of my mind, a remnant of years surviving danger-filled streets.

This place, too perfect, calls to me in a way that sets every instinct on edge. Yet, some invisible thread pulls me closer, as if whispering my name, as if promising…something.

“What game are you playing now, Hades?” I mutter, studying every inch of the façade, seeking any sign of treachery. Yet here I am, taking a step forward, drawn by that silent, irresistible pull.

As I reach the top, the temple doors groan open, revealing three figures. My breath catches, my heart pounding as I take in theirimpossiblebeauty. They’re all tall, thin like wraiths, yet curved like works of art. Their skin is untouched, unmarked by life. Their hair falls to their waists, and their eyes are full of wonder, drawing me in. They stand motionless, their faces an ethereal contrast to the bleakness surrounding us.

The first, pale and with hair like spun gold, steps forward. Her eyes shimmer like the sea itself, and her skin glows faintly, her beauty almost painful to behold. “Welcome, weary traveler,” she murmurs, her voice caressing me to my core.

To her left, a raven-haired woman with skin as beautiful as the night sky regards me with forest-green eyes. Her tresses cascade like waves down her back, and her lips curve into a knowing smile. “We’ve been waiting for you,” she says softly, her voice a soft purr that sends a shiver through me.

The third, silver-haired and graceful as smoke, stands silently, her lavender eyes observing me quietly. Her voice is a melody, a haunting whisper. “Come inside,” she says, her words sinking into me like silk.

I hesitate, my instincts screaming warnings I cannot ignore. These women aren’t mortal, nor are they dead. What are they? Deities? Witches? Something more dangerous?

Their voices suddenly fill my mind, a honeyed whisper that slides through me. The golden-haired one is first, her thoughts brushing against mine with a strange warmth. “Fear not, Gianni Montagna. We are not here to harm you.”

I take a step forward, unable to fight the hypnotic pull of their voices. "How do you know me?"

The raven-haired woman's lips curve into a smile, but her mouth doesn't move. "We know many things, Gianni. Including the location of your beloved Genoveva."

My heart races. "Where is she?" I demand, my voice a low growl.

The silver-haired one raises a delicate hand. "Patience, mortal. We shall aid you in your quest, but first, you must come inside.”

“How can I trust you? I’ve seen enough deceit in one lifetime and beyond,” I ask, even though I take a step closer from curiosity.

The raven-haired woman’s voice follows, smooth as velvet. “We guard this sacred place, condemned unjustly in death. This place is our retribution from Hades himself. This temple is our sanctuary… and now, it may be yours.”

I study their faces, searching for any flicker of deceit. But they gaze back, open and serene. Against my better judgment, I feel my defenses falter.

After all, these women might be my ticket to Genoveva.

The silver-haired woman extends her hand, her fingers graceful and inviting as I reach the threshold of the temple. "Come," she whispers, the word caressing my mind. "All will be revealed inside."

Beneath the caution my mind is telling me to maintain, there's something else - a whisper in my soul urging me forward. It's the same feeling I had when I first met Genoveva, that inexplicable certainty that changed my life.

With that, I cross the threshold, feeling the weight of Asphodel’s horrors fall away. A strange peace settles over me, one I haven’t felt in years. This temple, strange as it is, feels like a heartbeat, thrumming with life. I breathe out, almost in relief.

“Follow me,” the raven-haired beauty whispers, her voice weaving into the silence.

The three women lead me through a corridor of marble, the only sound of my footsteps echoing off the walls. At the end of the hall, they vanish, leaving me in a vast chamber.

“The Hall of Reflections,” the silver-haired maiden’s voice drifts faintly, even though she’s no longer there. “It shows you what your heart desires most.”

My breath catches in my throat. Mirrors. Hundreds of them, stretching as far as the eye can see. And in each one—

“Genoveva?” I breathe, my heart thundering. Her face, her hazel eyes full of life, her dark hair falling like night over her shoulders—she stands in every mirror, watching me.

My trembling hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against the cool surface of a mirror. And there she is, her delicate features so close I can almost feel her breath.

"Amore mio," I whisper, my voice cracking. Relief floods through me, sweet and overwhelming. "I've found you."

My palm presses flat against the glass, and for a moment—one glorious, heart-stopping moment—I swear I feel the warmth of her skin. Her lips curve into that secret smile, the one reserved only for me, and I'm drowning in memories of stolen kisses and whispered promises.

"Genoveva," I breathe, "I'm here to take you home."

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