Page 24 of The Don's Eternal Vows

The shape of his mouth moves, forming the haunting words of the song, but there are no lips, no skin.

He’s as dead as a man can be, all skeletal.

His voice is a low, rasping whisper, the voice of something that has never known life.

Charon. The Ferryman.

I watch, rooted to the spot, as he draws closer. The boat stops just a few feet from the shore, drifting in the water as though waiting for me to take the next step. I can feel his gaze—or what remains of it—on me, weighing my worth, assessing my resolve.

The river stretches out behind him, as endless and black as ever. But I don’t look at it. I keep my focus on him, the silver coin gripped tightly in my hand.

Chapter 11

Gianni

The mist curls around my ankles and the black waters of the Acheron lap at my feet. I can’t see anything but darkness and the rickety boat, the skeletal Charon and the one singular golden lamp. But, I feel my loafers sinking into the damp sand.

I stand at the threshold of the underworld, my scarred hands clenching and unclenching as I face the hooded figure before me. Charon, the ferryman of the dead, regards me with hollow eyes, those unblinking, unyielding stars under the starless night. Even from a distance, he smells like the underground, of decay and stagnant water.

My heart promises to give out in this nightmare, and my brain grapples with how I can negotiate with one who has been here from before time itself.

With all the courage I can muster, I stand straighter. "I demand passage to Hades," I say, forcing each word to be even. The words hint at faltering from fear, but I tap the same calm authority I use to command my men.

I can almost feel Genoveva now, somewhere here, in the midst of this wretched place. I smile just a little at the thought of her.

Charon's gaze doesn't waver, and a small, raspy sound comes from his hollowed lungs. "The living have no place among the dead. Go back where you came from."

I open my fists, my fingers loosening against the cool metal. A smirk plays on my lips as I pull out the silver obol, holding it up to catch the dim light of the underworld. The coin gleams in the dim light, catching what little illumination filters through the mist.

"Perhaps this will change your mind.”

He turns his head towards the coin. "Impossible," he breathes.

"Nothing's impossible for a man who makes his destiny," I counter, rolling the obol between my scarred fingers. "Now, about that passage..."

The air crackles with tension.

“See? That’s the thing with laws,” I say. “You’re in a conundrum, aren’t you? The mortals mustn’t enter, yet the silver obolguarantees a ferry to whoever carries it. Whatever will you do now?” I tsk my tongue, enjoying his confusion.

Charon's jaw tightens, then relaxes.

I bow my head in respect. “I simply seek passage. From there, the rules will play out as they must.”

With a sigh that seems to echo across the misty shore, Charon bows his head. He reaches out, his gnarled fingers closing around the obol. As he takes it, I feel a shift in the air, as if some ancient contract has been sealed.

"Very well, mortal. You've earned your crossing."

My heart pounds as Charon gestures toward his weathered ferry. The wooden planks creak ominously under my feet as I step aboard, the vessel dipping slightly with my weight.

"Don't get too comfortable," Charon warns, pushing off from the shore with his long pole. "The Acheron is not kind to the living."

I settle myself, meeting his hollow orbs once more. "I understand what awaits more than you know. Now, take me to my wife."

The ferry cuts through the churning waters, each ripple a whisper of despair. Charon's eyes gleam with an otherworldly light as he turns to me, his voice a rasp that chills my bones.

The mist around us thickens, swirling into ghostly shapes. Suddenly, I see her - Genoveva, but not as I remember. Her once-vibrant eyes are hollow, her skin ashen and lifeless. She reaches for me, mouth agape in a silent scream. I try to hug her, but she claws at me and screams at me for bringing her into a different hell. Tears pour down her eyes, and I feel her rage in the smallest edges of my bones.

"This is her fate," Charon hisses. "Trapped between worlds, never truly alive, never at peace."

---