There was once a time when Thanatos was tricked and imprisoned by King Sisyphus. As a result, no one on Earth could die, and the cunning king managed to escape death altogether. It took years for Thanatos to free himself from that trap, and ever since then, I doubt he's ever trusted anyone easily again.
"Watch my lips," I said, enunciating every word. "I—don't—know—Sisy—phus—and—I—have—no—idea—what's—going—on." I was sick of explaining.
Thanatos's crimson eyes glared at me as though he wanted to tear me limb from limb. The scythe in his hand trembled with rage.
"So… you're not going to admit it, huh?"
What the hell does he want from me now?
"Fine… I'll take your word for it," he growled. "But you're still coming to the Underworld with me…"
"Wait—what did you just say?" I cried, startled.
"Are you deaf? I said—you're coming with me to the Underworld. Now."
"No way! I'm still alive—you can't just drag me to the Underworld like that! Doesn't that go against Grim Reaper protocol or something?"
Thanatos rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I said you're coming, so you're coming. Don't argue. Say another word and I'll cut out your tongue with this scythe."
I shut up. He definitely seemed like the type to follow through on threats.
"You're wondering," he said coldly, "why I'm taking you to the Underworld even though you're still alive, aren't you?"
Too scared to speak, I nodded slowly.
Thanatos didn't answer directly. "You'll find out once we get there… heh."
I really wished he'd just tell me now, so I could mentally prepare myself. I had a sinking feeling that nothing good awaited me in the Underworld. I wanted to run, but I couldn't. His aura held me in place, compelling me to follow him. Even if I could run, I knew Thanatos would chase me to the ends of the world.
I was being dragged to the Underworld while still alive. Thanatos was convinced I was cheating death, even though I hadn't done anything wrong. My body was... weird. Even though I was in spirit form, I was still somehow alive. One moment I glowed with a faint blue light, the next I went dim again. The flickering made me dizzy.
But whatever. At least I wasn't dead yet. The bigger concern was how the hell I was going to escape Thanatos.
The god of death was watching me like a hawk. Every single step I took, he was right there, making sure I couldn't bolt. Along the way, he kept threatening me—saying if I tried to run, he'd throw me into Tartarus, or feed me to Cerberus, the three-headed dog. Every single threat he spat at me chilled me to the bone. I was pretty much ready to abandon any thoughts of escape.
For my own safety, I figured it was best to play along for now. I'd bide my time and think of a plan as we made our way to the Underworld. There had to be some way to escape Thanatos. I had to believe that—even if the chances were basically zero.
The path to the Underworld was shrouded in total darkness. I could barely see anything. Thankfully, Jason's and Tiphys's souls glowed just enough to light the way a little. But the world around us felt so bleak, it nearly crushed my spirit. Running away in this kind of lightless void would basically be suicide—I could get lost and wander forever.
Finally, we arrived at the entrance to the Underworld. The gate was huge and bone-white, constructed from millions of human skeletons piled together. The surrounding wall was made from the same material, stretching out beyond what the eye could see. Despite being made from the dead, both gate and wall were meticulously designed—hauntingly beautiful, yet terrifying at the same time.
Thankfully, beyond the bone gate, there were torches that lit the way. Spending too long in darkness messes with your mind. These torches were crafted from human skulls, lining the path to a massive lake. Moored at the shore was a lone ferry, and beside it stood an old man yelling at a spirit.
"Get lost, you broke ghost! No coin, no ride! My boat ain't charity!"
The cranky old man was Charon, ferryman of the River Acheron. Not every soul got a ride on his boat. If you didn't have an obol—the silver coin for passage—you weren't going anywhere. Despite his rude, abrasive attitude, every soul had to deal with him, since he was the only one who knew the way across the river. He had exclusive rights to ferry the dead.
The air was filled with pitiful wailing that shattered the eerie silence. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Souls without obols were condemned to sit and cry by the lakeside for hundreds of years, unable to move on. There were so many of them—way too many. The bank of the Acheron was packed with wailing spirits. Some even fell into the lake from the overcrowding. I couldn't help but wonder why there were so many souls stuck here. Something about this didn't feel right.
"Please, Lord Charon, I've waited a hundred years… you said if I lasted that long, you'd take me across," a desperate spirit pleaded.
Charon grinned cruelly. The smirk deepened the wrinkles on his already-ancient face. He grabbed his oar and smacked the spirit hard across the mouth, drawing a scream of agony.
"You idiot! Still don't get it? Wake up! You're nothing but a pathetic background character!"
He spat on the spirit. "You'll rot here for all eternity."
What?! What did that mean? What had happened to that background character's soul? Why couldn't he reincarnate, even after a hundred years?
"What's going on here?" I asked Thanatos.
He glanced at me and smirked. "You really want to know?"
I nodded.
"If you really want to know… I'll do you a favor and tell you," Thanatos said with a cruel chuckle. "Every background character that dies has no right to reincarnate. They're doomed to linger here on the shores of the Acheron, performing their eternal role as miserable spirits… forever and ever… HAHAHA!"