Rona.
My heart caught in my chest as I stared at him.
The Progenitor.
He leaned forward slightly, his dark hair cascaded carelessly over his sharp features carved by time itself.
But, his most striking feature was his eyes. They glowed a bright, captivating red.
He stared down at me, and at that moment I felt what it was like to be hunted.
A thousand ghouly eyes bore into my skin and I felt a prickly sensation trail my arms.
'And he hasn't even said a single word yet.'
Charon forcefully grabbed my arm, yanking me down onto my knees. "She is a mortal, My Lord. Barely worth your wrath."
"And who made that decision," His lips curled as he placed a hand underneath his chin. "Charon."
Charon went completely stiff.
'Just what is he capable of?"
"You're a loud one, aren't you?" The progenitor beckoned to me.
Charon's voice was barely above a whisper. "Speak now, Child."
I opened my mouth, but the words were caught in my throat, everything about this man made my voice shrivel.
"You weren't this quiet when you bossed my subordinate." He drawled, leaning back.
'Do it, Speak.' The voice in my head echoed. 'This is your only chance.'
"Progenitor." I met his gaze. "I need to go back."
"Need?" The Progenitor's languid smile widened. "That's a strong word, Reid."
"Now, wat makes you think I can grant your request?" His voice cut through the silence.
"You're the one who makes the rules. You can—"
"I can grant your request," He lifted a goblet, tenderly tracing its rim. "But, why should I grant yours?"
The question lodged itself in my head.
Why should he, an all-powerful being, choose to help a mortal clinging desperately to a life she had already lost?
I clenched my fists, What makes me different?
"…I don't know." I choked out. "I just need to go back... I'll do anything... Absolutely anything for another chance."
My voice cracked, tears burning my eyes. "All I ever wanted was to be happy. But I can't even have something as simple as that."
My knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the cold floor, as salty tears blurred my vision.
"You're very convincing, Reid"
'Did I hear him right... Does this mean he'll grant my req-:
"Request denied."
"No… please. No." My voice broke completely. "Please, I'll do anything. Just give me a chance. Just one chance."
"Thousands of souls, just like you, beg for another chance. Every. Single. Day." He stood up, appearing inched beside me. "But. I believe this calls for a little sightseeing, it's been quite a while since I went out."
His fingers reached out, barely grazing my cheek and that was all it took.
The world folded under his touch.
My stomach lurched, bile rising up my throat as I gagged.
"You'll get used to it soon,"
I lifted my head, and chaos erupted before me.
We were in a hospital. Lights flashed harshly as doctors barked orders and nurses ran down the hall.
A stretcher rolled past, passing right through me.
I caught a fleeting glimpse of a woman gasping desperately for breath, an oxygen mask strapped tight to her face.
Doctors rushed from bed to bed, gloves stained with blood. Patients gasped for breath, some unconscious, teethering on the edge of death.
Grim reapers, just like Charon, stood off to the side with their heads lowered.
"So you see? Every single one of them is just like you."
The world twisted again.
We were in a surgery room. Doctors shouted instructions, hands moving frantically.
Too late.
The heart monitor flat-lined.
"They had families. Accomplishments. Goals. It was all cut short."
My gaze remained fixed on the girl lying lifeless on the operating table. I could feel the Progenitor watching me.
A young child. Cancer. Surgery.
The heart monitor flat-lined.
"But, death is not the end," he said calmly. "It never was." He paused, nudging me forward. It has always been a new beginning, perhaps a better one."
"No. I don't want a new beginning. The old one worked just fine."
"That was never your choice to make, Rona." His fingers brushed against mine.
This time, we stood on a cliff overlooking a vast river.
Dark waters churned below, sending a chill through my spine.
This was... Styx.
The mythical rivers that carried souls to their destination after death.
The Progenitor lifted a finger, pointing toward a barren land beyond the horizon.
I could see them clearly. Souls darkened almost to pitch black.
"Those are souls like you," he said softly. "The ones who refuse to accept the new."
My words came out garbled. "What happened to them?"
"Their essence rots," he replied. "And in that decay, they birth something new."
I wanted to ask more, but the deathly calm in his tone told me he had said enough.
I closed my eyes and drew in a slow breath.
What do I do now?
When I opened my eyes, we were back in the throne room. The atmosphere crawled with something divine and suffocating.
A mischievous smile curved the Progenitor's lips as he sat on his throne.
Something twisted in my chest. Every instinct I had screamed that gaining his attention was the greatest curse of all.
"I'd like to offer you a deal, Rona Reid."
He raised the goblet to his lips, rivulets of red wine trailing down his chin as he drank.