Returned to the nothingness, that realm of nothing, I feel a lingering sense of fulfilment. Yet a feeling of foreignness drifts with it, as if my will wasn't my own.

I look in at myself, to reflect on what had happened for me to encounter these events that had led me here in the first place. Earth, my death in my own home of which I had no control over. And now, death chases me back to this nothing yet again.

Why did I feel so content when I had killed? Why did I act the way I did to those around me? I had never been one to go out of their way to interact, but I had never been so openly hostile either…

Why was I able to see past falsehoods? Why do things seem more and more estranged as I look back at this second life?

A feeling of being pulled, being taken from this calming weight of void. A similar feeling as to when I had been called by a god, taken to yet another between.

I feel myself break out of the shell of nothing, brought back to a reality yet again. My surroundings, a cold fogged shore, seemingly vast, yet hiding itself in the mist. Water lapping at my feet, as if beckoning me into them. The sound of the waves being gently broken as a small boat drearily pulls itself towards me.

I look to the vessel, carrying only one person, seemingly haggard and cold, yet distant. The boat carves into the gravelly beach beside me silently, as if it didn’t want to disturb the quiet unease of the surroundings.

“You seem to be quite bemused, wanderer.” A voice calls me from the boat. The person ferrying it reaches out a hand, dried and cracked as if a body long past had been pulled back to carry out an unavoidable task.

Looking to the boat, I step onto it absentmindedly, as if it was ingrained into my being to do so. Sitting down, the ferryman pushes off the beach to cross the inky waters to wherever he may please.

“I may lie when I say I feel for you, but I do pity you nonetheless.” the figure says.

I find myself unable to talk, as if by coincidence, I remember my interaction with the goddess before and try to express my thoughts as words as I did then. ‘I can’t help but wonder where we are.’ I ask. A simple question, yet as I say it I feel a sense of heft, as if what I had asked carried a weight I couldn’t even comprehend.

“The river Styx, to say lightly. Though I doubt that is all that plagues your mind wanderer?” The figure says, his voice a blank slate as if every word had been repeated to the point of being obsolete, yet holding a profound wisdom.

“Allow me to answer all you have on your mind, if you will.” I wonder what it is the figure would say, hoping for an explanation.

“You were, quite unfortunately, swept into the game of balance. Very few who are see their lives to the end, as did you. Your soul was simply plucked from the cycle of the dead, bringing you into the palm of higher beings who used you as they saw fit.”

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Having one question answered, several more arose to take its place. ‘So it was simply luck that I was brought back?’ I ask.

“Yes, though your soul might have had something more to do with it.” The figure responds, yet again bringing more questions and confusion along with their words.

“Though we do not have the most time to converse, I will answer your most prominent questions on your mind as of now. You are already aware of how, but you don’t seem to know why.

When the gods see something that either upsets them, or the equilibrium of their world tips, they birth a champion to deal with what it was that inferred their dislike. Yet they themselves cannot interfere directly, forcing them to either bestow their blessings onto a being of the lower realm to be their champion, or they create one with the soul of a damned being. You are the latter.

Though, unlike you, the created being does not recall their past. Whether it was due to you yourself, or because they have grown complacent, their hand was forced to break the balance and influence your being, which led to the reason why you were so volatile and reactive.”

With so many of my questions answered, both directly and otherwise, I’m left with only three.

‘May I ask you as to what it is that is so unique about my soul?’

“Even I am unable to know that, though it will most certainly cost you much of what you unknowingly hold dear.” the figure responds before going quiet, leaving me time to wonder what it was that they meant.

Having organised my thoughts as best I could, I ask, ‘then why was I given such reactive emotions?’.

“You weren't, your mind was simply heightened. Every feeling and thought you had was your own, simply amplified and manipulated to suit the wants of the gods.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. I didn’t feel afraid that those were my emotions, or that I had subconsciously known I thought like that for my whole life. What scared me was that my own body was taken from me, and that even though it was me, I wasn’t in control.

Leaving me to sit in silence and unknowingly seeding a tree of doubt, fear, and solitary. Though even when fully grown, I would never notice until that cost would reach its due.

The gentle sound of the water caressing the side of the boat, and the ferryman guiding it being the only thing that broke the quiet of both my mind and sea. “Though I have seen many a being lost to fear, I can only say to you that death will be the only solace for many. And that you are a favoured one, as your time has arrived.”

The boat comes to a gliding stop before a shimmering wall of the same water that carried us, stretching on for the full expanse of the immeasurable space. Crawling up towards the top of wherever this place was, and enclosing the entire length.

I stare at it, and feel instinctively that I would have to cross it. Standing up I place my hand on the wall, expecting a cold and wet feeling, yet being surprised to feel nothing, as if the wall wasn’t even there.

I lean forward, and my hand passes through, then my wrist, and then my arm. Yet before I fall into what I could only call salvation, I turn to look at the ferryman to ask my last question.

‘May I know your name?’ I ask.

The figure looks at me, and I finally see their face.

Two flickering glazed eyes gaze at me with expectation and tiredness.

And they respond.

“...Kharon”

No longer left with anything to ask, I move myself forward and step into the wall, falling forward and hopefully to my final resting place.