Page 8 of The Prince of Hidden Shadows
A low shroud coils around our feet, veiling the black, glassy surface of the river. Moored in silence, Charon’s boat rocks—tethered and expectant. The dead don’t jostle. Bound by fate, they hover on the edge, poised to embark on their final passage.
I stifle a sigh and fix my attention on the party crasher. I finally say, “I’m Zagreus, and you’re standing on the banks of the Styx—the arrivals lounge. You shouldn’t be here. Fair warning: My father doesn’t tolerate strangers showing up uninvited?—”
He narrows his dark eyes at me. “Uninvited?” he snaps, shrugging. “Might as well get sorted, then.”
“That’s the problem,Nathan,” I insist, incapable of resisting.
He squints.
Yes, I know your name, young man.
But he doesn’t interrupt.
“You can’t because you’re not on the list.”
Frowning, he takes a step back. “What are you talking about? What?—”
“The names we track show who’s allowed through,” I clarify. “Couldn’t find yours. Meaning, it isn’t your time.”
“Too bad…” An audible sigh escapes from his lips. “I really felt it was the right place. If I remember correctly, I think I was trying to join the 27 Club.”
I chuckle at that. “You a famous musician?”
“Nah, famous calligrapher and painter. Thought that’d count, since I’m an artist. Who was I kidding? I’m past twenty-seven—missed my shot at the club. And you’re rejecting me, too… What a shitty day!”
At once, his eyes widen, and he chuckles. “Wait a minute! If you’re Zagreus, then your dad’s Hades. That means I’m in Hell, aren’t I?” Before I can object, he carries on. “It’s the right place for me. Hell… I deserve it.” He swallows. “Not sure I get why I’ve been sent here, if that’s part of Greek mythology. I don’t really care. I’m tired of my life, and I miss my girlfriend. She’s around here somewhere…” He trails off. “Probably in Paradise, though…” He shakes his head.
“This is the Underworld. Hell is a simplified human concept. Here’s your crash course: The dead come to be sorted and judged. Then, they are sent to their ultimate resting place. Elysium for the virtuous. Asphodel for the ordinary. Tartarus for the truly damned. This is real. You can’t stay.” I growl the last part, but something he said earlier clicks. “Did you follow your girlfriend here?” I rub my chin, studying him.
Is he having an Orpheus and Eurydice crisis?
His brow furrows. “Nah, she died a few months ago, but I’m sure I belong here. I saw the light. I felt the pull. I was ready.”
“And now you’re stuck.” I slide my hands into my pockets, mimicking his stance. “Like Schrödinger’s cat, sealed in a box. No one’s opened it yet to check if you're dead or alive.”
Time moves on its own terms in this realm. If he wasn’t alone when he crossed, his absence won’t raise alarms. A breathy laugh escapes him. “Fantastic. I’m a science experiment in a mythological nightmare.”
“Actually, like I said, this is no myth.” I grin.
“You know, before I ended up here, I didn’t think. I just… wanted it to stop. Life, I mean.” His eyes fall to the ground, then flick up—burning, unfiltered. “I mean, come on—one minute I’m in my New York bathroom, snorting a shit-ton of coke. Next thing I know? I’m here, arguing with your weird friend about whether I even belong.” His voice stays low, but tension coils under it—twitchy, ready to detonate.Mister Trouble, no question.“So trippy… Tell me I’m wrong. That guy—” he jerks his chin toward the ferryman, “—he’s Charon, isn’t he?” I heave out a dry chuckle. That’s all he needs. “Fuck! And here I was, thinking I had the whole afterlife thing down! Reincarnation, soulmates and some big cosmic plan…” He drags both hands through his dark hair and lets out a jagged, bitter laugh. “God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
He growls—rage, regret, tangled into one raw sound. But that’s not what bothers me. It’s the crack in his voice. Deep down, a part of him is still hoping that this might all just be a bad trip.
“You tried to kill yourself?” A pang of unease rushes through me; these cases always punch straight to the heart. Not that I’m judging, but human life’s so short. Why end it before your time’s up?
He shakes his head again. “I must have OD’d. On purpose, I mean.” He runs his feet across the black sand, then cages my eyes. “It felt peaceful at first. Like drifting off. Then somethingyanked me back. Pain, tearing through—like my heart got ripped out.”
Charon’s right: something magical was involved. But he’s not the source. And yet, he’s oddly unfazed by Hades, the Underworld—everything.
None of it adds up.
“And the pressure in your chest—the push and pull—it built until you couldn’t breathe, didn’t it?”
“How do you know?”
“I’m Zagreus, remember?” That earns me a belly laugh. Nathan’s awfully relaxed for a guy who’s literally two feet away from the Styx. Maybe the coke is still affecting him. “Why don’t we concentrate on the current situation for now, okay?” He nods in agreement. “Your name keeps appearing and disappearing from the list. That doesn’t happen. Ever.”
“Glitch?”
