Chapter Eleven

With a loud crackle of discharged essence, Hermes and Athena appeared midstride. The essence of the caduceus still sparked and hummed. The displacement of teleportation caused the air around them to swirl and slap the loose fabric of their clothing against their skin. Moments ago, they had been in the Republic of New Athens' capital city of Acropolis. They had accessed the military archives and found the documents the heretics were likely to replace. Instead, it seemed they simply wanted to replace the personnel files and flight plan history of the Advancer to better fit their fabricated narrative to make it appear that the Republic had attacked the Empire.

 The reason for this was simple. Athens' provoking a war by attacking civilians could be used by Ares to declare not just a war in retaliation but a holy war. The ramifications of a holy war meant the theocracy's resources could be utilized, and though it would still require Zeus to decide if the Faith were to officially back Sparta's cause, something he would likely not do, it would cause a political problem for Elysium and in Olympus.

 Deducing this matter, Athena agreed to accompany Hermes to the Underworld. There was a quick meeting with the president and military commanders of Athens, in which Athena explained that while the gods believed the hostilities were being caused by a third party, they still required further proof, and should the Spartan Empire attack, there should be no quarter given.

 Now, utilizing mundane disguises and glamour effects to assume the trappings of a merchant and a scholar, Hermes and Athena stepped out of a wooded glen and joined a small group of travelers on the road to one of the six Underworld entrances. This entrance was located near the Forest of the Moon. Like most, it was found inside the depths of a large cave. However, as Hermes' caduceus could only transport him between locations within the same dimensional realm, he and Athena would have to enter the entrance by foot.

 Hermes walked with confidence while Athena kept adjusting her hood to better conceal her face. "Trust in your trappings," Hermes advised. "You draw more attention to yourself by doing that than anything else."

 Evidently, she was not used to using the glamour effects known as trappings, which were casting specific disguises upon themselves to conceal their identity, making them appear as a stereotypical sort aligned to the essence of their purviews. While Athena had been quite capable with here trapping disguises once upon a time, she had allowed herself to become rusty from lack of application.

 "Why bother with these disguises?" asked Athena with a scowl. "What differences does it make if we simply strolled in as the gods we are?"

 Hermes shrugged. "First of all, this walk would take longer. These people," Hermes said, motioning his head to the travelers surrounding them, "are going to the entrance of the Underworld for three things, sister. One, they have lost a loved one and seek to speak with them to help ease that pain. Two, they are desperate for aid and have not yet found it by worshiping us and so they now reach out to the gods below. Three, they are at the end of their rope and seek the Deep Druids' brew."

 "You mean hemlock?" Athena said with a sigh, shaking her head.

 The practice of Faith-assisted suicide was sometimes considered controversial. No one enjoyed thinking that hope was ever truly lost, but the gods found that suicide rates actually dropped when they allowed the Deep Druids to perform this ritual. As the Deep Druids spoke with each worshiper seeking such an end before the ritual's start, many people would have a change of heart when counseled by the Deep Druid. While that was an unintended side-effect, the gods were pleased by that turn of events; and should the mortal still wish to go through with the ritual, the Deep Druids prepared their death as a sacrifice to the gods, much as they did for criminal executions, therefore committing the entirety of that person's life essence to the gods which meant a small spike in worship received for the coffers of Olympus.

 "You do not approve?"

 Athena simply sighed. "I simply had not heard it referred to as the Deep Druids' brew."

 "It is a euphemism."

 "I realize that," Athena said with a sneer.

 Hermes smiled. "I guess it is a more common expression in Thebes and Corinth."

 "That explains why I had not heard it," Athena said as the two neared the entrance to the Underworld.

 The road widened into a plaza of cobblestone to allow room for those with wagons, motorcarriages, steeds, and even airships to dismount. Surrounding the plaza was a small city of various businesses, hostels, and a modest church that would house the Deep Druids that serviced the entrance. At the far end of the plaza was a long descending staircase that fed into the mouth of a formidable cave somewhat depressed into the lightly wooded meadow surrounding it.

 Hermes smirked as he and the goddess continued on without the need to find a stable for their mount or park a vehicle, giving them space from the other travelers. "Do you perchance know the Athenian euphemism for hemlock or the Deep Druids' ritual of self-sacrifice?"

 Athena shot him a sideways glare and sneered. "No. I do not. Euphemisms are not really my specialty."

 "Kissing the lips of Athena," Hermes said with a smirk and a not-so-innocent whistle.

 "You are making that up."

 He shrugged and continued on. "Anyway, to your original inquiry, if we had strolled out of that glen as two gods, what do you think would happen? We'd be swarmed by worshipers. They'd beg us to ease their suffering or resurrect their loved ones. Even if it is beyond our power to do so, desperate mortals will still ask. It could be a minor delay if we press on and ignore them, but then would that not affect worship in the long run? If we stop and counsel them, listen to their plights and comfort them, our delay would grow exponentially and overall do nothing for worship. So why bother?"

 "When did you become so cynical?" Athena asked as they entered the cave, and the fading daylight was replaced by the light of purple-flamed torches. The purple fire was an indication they had crossed the barrier and were now somewhere between Elysium and the Underworld. They were nearing a state of limbo.

 Hermes scoffed. "I have always been cynical, sister. It is what allows me to be so clever and wise."

 She scoffed. "I am the Goddess of Wisdom, though."

 He shrugged. "They call me the Thrice-Wise."

 "Still, I am the Goddess of Wisdom," she said with a smirk of her own.

 Inside the cave, which continued to descend gradually, was a narrow sloped corridor. There were stalactites and stalagmites and columns of both natural and hewn stone on the sides and occasionally in the center of the long and winding path. There would be a torch with a flickering purple flame every so often.

 Usually, not far from a torch was a priest dressed in hooded robes of purple and black, often with a red belt or sash. These were the Sworn Servants of Charon, the 'Deep Druids.' Many had a coin purse on their belt or hanging from their neck, carrying silver coins for them to place under the tongue of the dead to pay the ferryman.

 Spaced at regular intervals as they descended further were rooms or alcoves that simply housed a bench and an ornate panel of polished silver. These were known as the windows of the soul. When treated with a special oil by the priests, the panel would glow green, usually in exchange for a blood sacrifice made on the floor in front of the bench. The spirit would manifest in the reflection by speaking the name of a deceased person, and communication could be allowed between the living and the dead.

 But Hermes and Athena did not stop here. They had another means of communing with the dead.

 Toward the bottom, the cave opened into a large chamber. This was where most sacrifices were made as there were plenty of altars here for the letting of blood. Every altar had the half-bust of a god near the altar. Most were the gods of the Underworld; Hades and Persephone were chief among them, as were their children and other staples of the Stygian side of the Pantheon, such as Hecate and Charon. However, the Olympians were featured there, too. Though these statues reflected the gods' darker selves. For instance, Hermes' statue showed him reaching out his hand toward the altar as if he were offering to show the dead the way to the Underworld, referencing his role as a psychopomp; while Athena's statue showed her with tented fingers as if in dark contemplation, maybe as a reference to her role as the Goddess of Strategy.

 Though not considered among the great temples of Elysium, Underworld gates offered many of the same services as the temples. For rural communities far from a great temple, Underworld gates were their destination for significant sacrifices and acts of worship. People could be married here, and there were four chapels adjoining this large chamber with full body statues of Hades and Persephone holding hands dedicated to performing weddings here. Every Underworld gate even had an oracle.

 At the end of the chamber was a decidedly strange sight considering the cave's general aesthetic. A large alcove of white stone fitted inside an obsidian archway inscribed with arcane sigils and the words of a scripture denoting it as the Underworld Gate itself. Akin to an inverted Ascension Anchor, the Gate stood at the end of a raised dais and was guarded by four templars and a Deep Druid holding a crooked staff that looked like a warped Key of Ascension.

 As Hermes and Athena ascended the stairs of the dais, they not only caused the guardians to take notice, but several worshipers scattered in the chamber cut their prayers short to see what was about to transpire.

 "State your business," said the Deep Druid with the crooked staff as he stepped forward on the dais to confront the approaching merchant and scholar.

 Hermes produced his caduceus, holding it out in front of him, as he grinned and let released the essence binding his illusion. "I am Hermes, Herald of Zeus, one of the Twelve and master psychopomp to Lord Hades. I seek admission."

 The Deep Druid bowed in reverence as a hush fell over the chamber, interrupted by small exclamations of excitement. Then the druid's eyes met Athena's, and he parted his lips to question her.

 Before Athena could announce herself, Hermes stepped between them and glowered at the priest. "Stand aside."

 At once, the priest and the templars behind him did just that. Hermes motioned Athena forward, clasping her wrist with his hand. Once inside the alcove, both gods could feel the distinct sensation of crossing into the ether, and as Hermes pressed forward, the alcove wall revealed itself to be incorporeal, permitting him to pass along with Athena.

 Hermes slowly pulled Athena through the wall with him, and their senses disappeared. Even though he maintained a grip on Athena's arm, the sensation felt distant. The same could be said of whatever they were walking on. There was no light or sound, only darkness. This was limbo, the dark mirror to the ether.

 No stranger to limbo, Hermes pushed through it and found himself stepping through what felt like a wall of ink. Athena had some hesitancy to cross through the other end, but Hermes kept a hold on her arm. Refusing to let her go, Hermes ushered his sister through. On the other side, they were still inside a cave, looking like a dark mirrored reflection of the chamber they had just been inside, but after descending the dais, the chamber was devoid of statues or altars, and the floor was uneven and rough. It was as if they had stepped backward in time to when the cave was untouched by mortal hands.

 Still dripping with the liquid essence that resembled shadowy ink, Athena's breaths were uneven. It had been too long since she had made such an entrance into the Underworld. She had forgotten how unsettling it could be.

 Hermes pressed on, and another difference came as they progressed beyond the chamber to find its adjoining tunnel descended downward instead of an incline that would return to the surface. As they continued further down, they began to find the souls of the recently deceased wandering the cave.

 These souls were scared or hesitant to proceed forward. Instead, they took shelter in this cave rather than face what awaited them further down. When Hermes passed by with his caduceus, most of them noticed and began to follow him as the caduceus held power over the dead, making them inclined to follow him.

 Athena's essence trapping melted away as they climbed out of the cave, no longer needing to maintain the disguise any further.

 Walking out of the cave, Hermes and Athena saw the landscape was nothing like that of the mortal world. Behind them, the cave they had departed was part of a massive rock formation. Jutting out from the top of this red and black rock cone was a massive chain that ascended into the lightning-filled black and gray clouds high above. Some souls were attempting to climb the chain, desperate to return to the mortal world, but most would fall long before they made that transition as the climb was deceptively high as the cover of clouds gave false hope, concealing the actual length of the chain that disappeared into the abyss beyond the storm.

 That was not the only chain. There were five others spread out over the perimeter of this area, all shooting from the rocks and ascending skyward. In the distance, other chains could be made out, but it was challenging to make them out with the haze of the distance obscuring the view.

 The horizon was a murky red, as was the ground their feet walked on now, kicking up what looked like obsidian stones every so often but were the remains of souls that became ravaged shades and had to be put down. As their remains were corporeal in the death-rich essence of the Underworld, the shades would wither into husks of soulstone before then shattering into hundreds of these soulshards of various sizes.

 The wind of the Underworld was a sharp and biting thing, filled with an unearthly howl that harrowed the minds of many and gave them even more reason to remain inside their caves of entry, seeking shelter. Another reason to hide was the souls themselves, often manifesting the method of their death or some marking of their true, ugly self that they had kept hidden in life. Many souls here were grotesque monstrosities that hardly resembled anything mortal. They were genuinely challenging for the recently deceased to look upon without fear. But Hermes and Athena had no such issues, and they marched forward, undaunted.

 The rocks surrounding them created this valley of red sand, wandering souls, and soulstone. This was the Valley of the Dead. Enclosed by peaks of red stone littered with soulstone, there was only one apparent exit, a gap in the massive barrier of spires. The Akheron Pass would lead to the shores of Akheron, the river that would lead to the rest of the Underworld. It is there where it seemed most of the dead had congregated. It was also where the ferryman himself, Charon, was likely to be found. Charon was the dead's gatekeeper to judgment and whatever afterlife awaited them.

 "How do you expect to find the souls of the Advancer's crew in this mess?" asked Athena as she gazed upon the dead. The valley had to be home to thousands of wandering souls, and as they drew closer to the gap, there was a congested mess of at least four times the density of the rest of the valley.

 Hermes reached into his satchel with a grin. He retrieved some documents he had helped himself to from the Fleet Command archives and began to shuffle through them as he shot the occasional glance to Athena.

 "You stole those?"

 "I borrowed them," Hermes countered with a soft chuckle, "without permission."

 "That is stealing."

 "I am the God of Thieves, I would know if it's stealing," he replied with a snickering grin.

 "I am the God of Judgment," she said unamusedly. "I would find you guilty of stealing."

 "Maybe if I were mortal," Hermes chuckled. "But alas, dear sister, I am Hermes. Mortal laws do not apply to me and I challenge you to find a law against stealing among the Olympian Manual's Code of Conduct."

 She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "There is no such thing."

 "You're making my point for me," he said as he stopped shuffling the papers. In his hands was a personnel file. He read a name from the document, then he held his herald's scepter high. "Bemus Alinda. Where art thou?"

 Athena tapped her foot, waiting for something to happen.

 Hermes blinked, raised an eyebrow, and tried again. "Bemus Alinda. Where art thou?"

 Nothing happened.

 Athena raised an eyebrow herself as she watched Hermes tap the caduceus on the toe of his boot. "Having problems, are we, little brother?"

 Hermes sneered. "Oh hush… Bemus must just not be here," he said, tucking the rod under his arm as he sifted through more papers. "Calix of Dodona. Where art thou?" he asked as he found a new name and raised the rod of the herald.

 Athena stifled a chuckle. "You look so foolish."

 Rolling his eyes, Hermes grabbed the next sheet and tried again. He tried that name and the following two names three times each. Then, with a groan, Hermes shot a glare at the now giggling Athena. "Stop it," he warned her.

 "God of Thieves is not the most impressive thief, after all," she said, trying to hold a straight face and failing. "It seems someone stole his dignity right from under him."

 Hermes rolled his eyes and gave her a flimsy grin. "Laugh it up," he said, taking the next sheet in hand and letting out a hopeful sigh. "For all we know, Athenian military officials keep shitty records," he said with a sneer before clearing his throat and holding the herald's rod overhead. "Flavia Eretria. Where art thou?" he said half-heartedly.

 The scepter let out a pulse of white essence that filled the valley in a flash. Then, the murky dim red haze returned in an instant, except for a beacon of white among the rocks at the edge of the gap. Athena had spotted it first and called Hermes' attention to it, and he pulled her in close and let his talaria fly them over there with godspeed.

 As they arrived, the beacon revealed itself to be the soul of Flavia Eretria herself, the navigator of the Advancer. Hermes had to do a double take, consulting with her paper file to confirm her identity, as she had deep gashes across her face and several other parts of her body, not to mention she had been stripped of her uniform and was only wearing the standard issue military undergarments.

 Hermes dismissed the glow that had illuminated her soul with a wave of his caduceus. Then, with another wave, Hermes used his powers as a psychopomp to reshape the essence of her soul. When he was done, Flavia had taken on the reflection of her idealized self. She was lovely, dressed in her formal uniform with her hair curled and beautiful. Then with that taken care of, Hermes had to bear an ecstatic squeal of joy and a hug from a jubilant ghost.

 "Easy there," said Athena, putting her hand on Flavia's shoulder and guiding her away from Hermes. "My brother doesn't care for public displays of affection," she said with a half-smirk.

 Hermes scoffed at his sister.

 "My apologies, your grace," said Flavia, bowing her head but smiling like a loon.

 "You're more… uh… chipper than most of the dead I've met," Hermes said with a moment of pause.

 She smiled and nodded. She looked now much like she would have in life, with curled black hair and smooth skin the color of cocoa. She had beautiful golden eyes and a heart-shaped face. "Well, it may be on account of me being a spirited person," she said with a silly grin, then pausing to tap her chin. "Though, I suppose now I am a spirited spirit."

 Hermes chuckled. Athena rolled her eyes.

 "But that is only part of it," Flavia explained. "I joined the Fleet because I needed to pay off my mother's debt and now that I died in the service of Athens, my mother will receive a handsome death dowry."

 Athena frowned. "Even still, you should not be excited by your death. You are still so young."

 Flavia shrugged. "I also had a heart condition," she said with a somber tone that seemed at odds with her perky mannerisms and countenance. "I was not likely to live long beyond thirty. So I made my peace with my sacrifice to join the service, your grace."

 Nodding, Athena seemed to accept that answer but did so with a sour look.

 Clearing his throat, Hermes interrupted. "You were the Navigator of the Advancer. Can you tell us what transpired there?"

 Flavia nodded. "I can. It seemed like most patrol flights, other than we had a bit of a storm to deal with. We had just navigated the storm and sent a progress report via pulse-click. The moment I finished the report, I saw a flash of red and was thrown to the ground. Someone had come from behind me and slashed my face with a clawed glove. I let out a scream of pain; blind from the blood; but it was a drowned in the cacophony of other screams. So many screams," she said, shaking her head. "I was the first of the crew to be attacked, but the last one to die."

 "You did not see your attacker?" asked Athena.

 Flavia shook her head. "No. They came from behind me."

 Hermes reached for his satchel and grabbed the schematic for the airship design, which shared the same class as the Advancer. After a brief study, he showed the design to Athena. "The pulse-click station is in the rear of the bridge. Anyone could have attacked her."

 Flavia stepped forward and put her hand over the schematic. "Not anyone," she protested, shaking her head. She pointed to the pilot's station. "The pilot could not have done it. Leaving his seat would have caused the ship to rock, but that did not happen. I know that because I have awful balance and would have been on my ass if that were the case."

 Athena nodded. "That still leaves five possible attackers, and does not even consider the secret stowaway hatch theory."

 "Stowaway hatch?" asked Flavia with a pensive look. "Oh, you mean the supply hatch."

 Hermes raised an eyebrow. "Supply hatch?"

 She nodded. "Yes. For emergency supplies," she explained.

 Hermes glanced at the schematic. "Where would that be?"

 Stepping next to the god, the ghost studied the document with him and shook her head after a long search. "This is outdated. It's not here," she explained and then pressed her finger to the center of the schematic, right in front of the captain's chair. "It should be there but it's not."

 "What sort of emergency supplies were in there?" Athena asked, folding her arms.

 Flavia shrugged. "I do not know that. Sorry. I wish I did. I never got a chance to look inside. It was added just prior to this mission and was kept locked."

 "Who had the key?" asked Hermes.

 "The captain," replied Flavia.

 Hermes shuffled through the paperwork and produced the file on Captain Coulmier of Aphidnae. "Is this the captain?"

 She shook her head. "That's our regular captain," she explained.

 Hermes nodded and began to put his papers in his satchel. Then, abruptly, he paused and shot a look at the ghost. "What do you mean by 'regular'?"

 "He wasn't on the ship that night," she said. "He was sick so we had a reserve officer as captain."

 "And her name?" asked Athena, taking a step toward the ghost.

 Flavia stroked her chin. "Pangiota of Lindos."

 "A foreigner?" asked Hermes, recognizing the township of Lindos as belonging to Rhodes. "Interesting. Did she seem odd to you?"

 "In what way?"

 Athena shrugged. "Was she doing anything suspicious that you noticed?"

 Tapping her chin, Flavia deliberated for a moment. "Now that you mention it, she grabbed an aerochute from the rack by the door when we first boarded the ship and kept it on the arm of her chair."

 Hermes looked over at Athena with a scowl. "The captain of the ship survived the crash. An aerochute would explain how that happened."

 Flavia scoffed. "I don't know about that. I survived the crash."

 Athena frowned. "Oh, dear… No, you didn't. It's okay if you forgot that, it happens to ghosts-"

 Hermes butted in, shaking his head. "She's not suffering from death denial. Go on, Flavia. How did you survive?"

 "I was blind but I was not strapped in to my station since I was using the pulse-click," she explained. "I think they thought I was dead or the crash would kill me after they killed the rest of the crew. However, I heard three people jump out of the side hatch shortly after we were struck by a mortar and began to lose altitude. So I decided to take my chances and jump too."

 "You leaped out of the ship?" asked Athena.

 "I took an aerochute with me," she said with a silly giggle.

 "How did you end up naked?" Hermes asked, raising an eyebrow.

 She tapped her chin and then giggled. "Oh yeah. When I landed, I stripped out of my uniform as I heard voices in the distances shouting with Spartan dialect. I figured that if I could stumble my way a good distance from the crash, I could find a road and pretend to be a robbery victim; but if I was dressed as in my Fleet uniform I'd been killed on the spot."

 Hermes smiled. "Smart girl."

 Flavia nodded. "Thank you."

 "How did you die then?" asked Athena.

 The ghost looked clueless and offered only a shrug. "I do not know exactly. I was not expecting the ground to be so uneven where I landed and I kept stumbling. I did not get far and soldiers caught me. Even without my uniform, they knew I had to be part of the ship and they dragged me away. I thought they were going to rape me, I mean I have heard the horror stories of Imperials, and so I kicked and screamed and fought. I think I bit one of them. Anyway, he smacked me with the butt of his carbine and I think that broke my neck."

 "How awful," said Athena. "Spartan savages…"

 Flavia had a brief frown, but then she giggled a bit more. "Yeah, but as I lay there, I could still hear them… well, fragments of what they said. Imperial accents can be so thick and guttural. They ruin the beauty of the Glossa language."

 Hermes shook his head. "It wasn't their accent. Your body was dead, but your spirit lingered. It happens. It is part of the transitioning process. Sounds become distorted, and voices of the living begin to sound distorted."

 She went on. "I felt them prodding my body then. At first, I thought they were doing foul things to me, but then I realized they were not trying to rape me. They had assumed I was the ship's captain and had ditched my uniform so I would not be interrogated for information. They wanted to get me medical treatment, and the soldier that had killed me only wanted to get me to stop biting his friend. That's all... He felt so sorry. I reminded him of his younger sister. I don't know how I deduced all that, but-"

 "Spiritual insight is another part of the transitioning process. Acute awareness. You became hyperaware of your surroundings," Hermes explained before looking over at Athena. "Imperials and Republicans are more alike than different."

 "I see that now," Flavia said, hanging her head in shame. "I feel sorry for biting him."

 Hermes put a hand on her shoulder. "I am certain he feels sorry that you died, too. I know I am."

 "Well then perhaps we should be going," said Athena to her younger brother. "Flavia has given us many leads to pursue on this matter."

 Hermes nodded. "Yes, I suppose so," he kept his hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. "Remain honest and know that when the judges learn of what aid you have given us today, you will be awarded a thousand years in paradise."

 Flavia smiled. "Thank you, but… might I ask for a silver coin?" she said with a soft chuckle. "I, uh, lost mine with my uniform."

 Athena was digging into her pockets as Hermes slapped his forehead. "Flavia, you brilliant genius! I almost forgot! Your crewmates had the coins removed from their uniforms. Do you know how that happened?"

 Reflexively, Flavia touched her breast and winced.

 Stepping forward, Athena looked startled. "What is it? What is the matter?"

 "My heart," said Flavia, her tone distressed.

 Hermes' eyes went wide open. "No, no, no!"

 Athena grabbed Hermes and pulled him away from the ghost as her chest burst open with a bright red shower of necrotic essence. Flavia's form then twisted and snarled. Becoming more bestial and savage with each second. Finally, Flavia lunged toward Hermes with monstrous features and elongated fingers tainted with red essence. Only by Athena's quick intervention, shoving the creature off-course, was Hermes not touched by the charging shade.

 "What madness is this?" asked Athena as she took a step back and struck a defensive stance, pulling Hermes back with her. "A shade? How did she become a shade already? Does this not require years of wandering and suffering as a ghost?"

 Hermes shook his head. "It only requires the heart to be defiled," he said as he put his feet back underneath him and twirled his caduceus in his hand. "Here," he said, stepping in front of Athena, "let me handle this."

 Flavia's shade had been on the ground completing its transformation as it screamed and writhed. Her joints bent at wrong angles, and her skin became black as tar as the flesh itself appeared to bubble beneath. Her breath was replaced by a yellow sulfuric smoke, and her eyes became like pools of yellow lava, dripping streaming tears.

 As she returned to her feet and snarled, readying for a second lunge, Hermes' rod turned white hot, burning with essence, ready to use its power of the dead to smite this shade. But he did not get that chance. Instead, the shade lunged skyward, and as it came back down, it was blown asunder, raining black shards of rock and red essence down upon the gods.

 "Well, howdy," said the barefoot ferryman himself. Charon was dressed in ragged attire, the vapors of the Underworld rivers having dissolved his clothing's integrity but not affecting him in the slightest. Strolling out from among the throngs of souls fleeing the sight of the shade, a large oar resting on his shoulder as his free hand let off a smoky vapor from the essence blast he had just unleashed, Charon tipped his hat to acknowledge Athena's presence. "What brings y'two to my neck of the woods? Come to pay your uncle a visit, have you?"

## Characters

### Gods

* Hermes
* Athena
* Charon