Page 66 of Aïdes the Unseen
That was the first time I had evidence. Data. Patterns. A true fragment to anchor the suspicion I’d carried for centuries.
I replayed it now—again, again. The rooftops wet with spring rain, her dress torn at the hem, her blood mingling with soot. Élise Rousseau died with grace in her eyes and something resolute on her lips. I’d watched from the shadows, hidden by the veil, waiting for the moment her soul would cross?—
But it didn’t.
Not to me.
And for the first time in thousands of years, I hadproof. Thanatek's earliest soul-mapping interface caught the anomaly.
Subject: Rousseau, Élise
Age: 31
Status: Deceased
Soul Transfer: FAILED
Expected Descent: Overdue
Underworld Tether: Severed
She had died, yes. But she hadrefused the paththat should have led her to me. Not instinctively. Not blindly.
Intentionally.
The fragment played back one more time. Her final breath, lips parting—two words, whispered not in fear, but in resolve.
“Not yet.”
That was what changed everything.
That was when I knew.
She was being blocked. Rerouted. Intercepted.
I stood,the simulation flickering behind me, and crossed to the far wall of the chamber. My hand brushed over the obsidian plaque, and the veil between worlds softened—just enough.
The shadows shifted. The room darkened.
And I stepped through.
The Underworld— Outer Vaults
The world beneath the world isn’t fire and brimstone. It’s silence and stone and stories etched into the walls. I emerged into the Vault of Names, where no light glowed unless summoned. My breath did not fog. My footsteps did not echo.
They were already waiting.
Two shapes moved near the central altar. One was tall and gold-eyed, draped in silver cloth, Mnemosyne, the titan of memory. The other was folded in red shadow, skeletal hands resting atop a black staff, Charon, the ferryman, who forgot nothing but volunteered little.
“Mara told you,” Mnemosyne said without turning.
“Not enough,” I replied. “I want the full account. Paris. Élise. Why didn’t she descend?”
Charon chuckled. A thin, rattling sound like bone wind through cavern teeth.
“She tried,” he said. “You weren’t listening.”
“I wasthere. I reached for her. And then—nothing.”
