Page 334 of Flirting with Darkness

As I was told, only a kiss of love by one bound by blood to Melchior will free him from his imprisonment. I waited as long as I could after she became of age to make my move, but I’ve been fearful to try.

For a while, I suspected the affection I felt for Rae was shared. Her response to me today confirmed my suspicions.

Now, if only she canlovea wretch like me.

Only Rae’s love can free her cousin from bondage and bring a finality to this cursed life of mine.

I only want to be free. Not a bound ferryman destined for the darkness of the fires of Sheol.

Once Rae and I made it back to the carriage station, I flung my coat off of her, quickly got out of the ski lift, and rushed past her brother and the mob of folks waiting to see if we were okay. Only taking one last look at us on the camera replay monitor, the sight of us together warms my dark soul.

But I don’t linger.

While most of my abruptness was because I needed to hide the enormous effect Rae had on my manhood. Although I’m sure she felt the strength of me beneath her leg, there was no need to bring undue attention to us. The last thing I’d want is for others to think less of her. Town folks are more likely to judge Rae than me, if anyone were to see the effect she had on me. So if I had to look like the businessman who had more important things to do in the eyes of everyone, so be it.

While I wish I could tell Rae how I feel, I only hope my sudden departure doesn’t sully the brief moment we shared today. Once I know for sure whether she can bring Melchior out of his doomed state, my next and only goal is to make Rae mine.

Flinging my coat to the floor the moment I arrive in my cave, I rush to Melchior’s prism, holding Rae’s hair and brandishing the obol from my neck across the frozen stone, hopeful to beckon the Changelings to my hovel. It brings me no joy to be caught in their dark web of witchery, but alas, here I stand.

Slowly their dark hazy mist clouds my view, funneling like a flume around me. “Whilst you call and now awake, bound to Sheol, seal thy fate. Longing heart, with lust you fill, the mate you wish, denies you still. No ray of light, summer nor spring, only in winter will fortune ring.”

Dark figures with callous grins, blare shrieking echoes throughout the cave. As I stare at their ominous faces, the merriment once raging my heart thumps to the ground.

While their haunting sonnet is muddled in the language of men, being of the Netherworld, I know too well the meaning of their gloom-filled silique.

Rae is not the one.

Winter is.

But I don’t want Winter. I want Rae.

She is the only one I want.The only one I need.

The power of the obol still retains the Young Lord Elysian under the enchantment of the Changelings. Although his eyes can barely be seen through a mortal lens, I can yet spy his saddened eyes watching me through the Changeling’s ice-like prison. For years, I promised Melchior I’d save him from his doom. I know not whether he understands anything I’m saying through the thick chasm holding him hostage, I can only hope he knows I wish him no ill.

The thickening mist of the Changelings subsides and anger plows through me. I refuse for them to leave me like this!

“There has to be another way!” I shout.

Letting out a loud shrieking howl, their flume hurls once more around me. “This, Son of Erebus, is the only way. Only the blood of an Elysian can unbind the young lord’s tether to your fate. The one to whom this strand belongs is not of Elysian blood!”

Damn!Rae must only be Elysian’s niece by marriage not blood. I’m such an idiot! Why didn’t I know this?

The Changelings leave me little time to ponder the weight of their words before striking me with a gale force, pinning me tight against the cold slab that is Melchior’s prison.

With hissing sounds whirling around the darkened cave, a small shrilling chortle rivets through the phantom’s mist.“To the obol remain bound, lest to love thine heart be found. Only the truest kiss will set him free or in time to come in Sheol he shall be!”

No sooner than their riddled musings ring through my ears, I am released from their tight grip, straining for air along the cold floor.

My body contorts as a shooting ache rips through me and I cry out in pain. “Fu—argh!!”

“Brother!” I hear my sister Moirai call to me from the onyx stone in the cave wall. “Kharon, please!” She pleads louder as a white light beams from the darkened corner.

“Go away, Moirai!” I shout back, writhing in pain on the floor.

“Is it happening again?” Moirai asks, her voice consoles me from afar.

This isn’t the first time my sister has seen this happening to me. Every time the Changelings want toteach me a lesson, they speed my aging. In mortal time, I shouldn’t look any older than Melchior. Like someone in my mid-twenties. Instead, I look like someone who’s made more than forty rotations around the sun. Sure, the Sons of Erebus, the ferrymen, are known as aged men charting the River Styx of the Netherworld, but in the lifespan of the Netherworld I have a little less than a millennium to go before I even begin to age. I suppose if there was any benefit to being a child of the Netherworld is that without the sun’s influence, we age far slower than mortals.

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