Lights swam, before the woman's eyes, morphing into images, one caught her eye.

No, no, not that, anything but that.

Despite her pleading it seemed like she was to be shown it anyway.

It was September of 2015, in Aleppo, Syria.

It had been an extremely hot day, or so the small girl thought, sitting on the steps of her familial home. It was a day, lacking the bombing that had inflicted the city lately. She was happy to be out of the bunker in the basement of their home.

That was until the shelling started, on her neighborhood.

She didn't hear the alarms, her parents yelling for her, her own heartbeat and pulse thundered in her ears. Watching a missile driving towards her, in a direct path.

Her parents ran for her, but it would be too late, if only she could tell them to stop, to save themselves. But she was frozen in a momentary state of paralysis.

What would you do to stay alive? A raspy voice said in her head.

Anything.

So its been done, I'll contact you in the future.

The bomb hit, shredding every thing for meters, it was only the first one, they kept coming. Turning her neighborhood into a smoking crater. Everything she knew burned in flames and violence and explosions. Except her, she was cursed to survive.

It was that day she became an orphan, a migrant, a survivor.

Iris, awoke. Still shaking, shaking with the bombs, the bodies, it all came back, like it did every night. She pushed it from her mind, begging it to leave her alone. All things faded in time, but it seemed like this memory was here to stay, no matter how much time passed.

How close had she been to catching Ivanov that time?

I swear, fate has chosen his side in this matter.

Realizing she had let her guard down she quickly leapt up in a swift motion, gymnastics had always come in handy. Looking down she was wearing white robes, and curiously the only item she still had in her hand was the combat knife, still slick with blood.

Maybe fate could afford her some leeway, she never liked being without a weapon. It left her vulnerable. She ran her thumb over the blade, just hard enough to draw blood. Watching the crimson red of her blood, and Yutir's mixing together.

Some people relied on their cunning to get them out of trouble, some relied on their charisma, Iris relied only on her physical strength and stamina, training it to do as she wanted.

She peered around, assessing all possible enemy positions. Not seeing anyone, she returned to the knife. It was the only thing she had left. A tether to the world of the living.

"So this is the Underworld, eh?"

She had hated her accent, hated her skin tone, hated the looks she got from everyone in the countries after Aleppo. Germany, Russia, South Africa, Brazil, the United States. She had lived in more country's than she could count. Each one morphing to the next, as she and the other orphans, followed the one ray of hope, the "Professor."

She no longer disliked her appearance it had become a thing of pride, her red eyes constantly glinting, giving her the look. A look that made it seem like she was about to kill.

It was dark in the Underworld. Not much else to say. Except for a light that shone like a small pinprick in the night, just in the distance.

She remember from her briefing she had been told to follow that pinprick of light. It led to the Admissions Office, the entrance to the Underworld.

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She appeared to be situated on a cliff however. Troublesome, as she had to climb down to get to the floor, but not impossible.

Where are you Ivanov?

She began descending. Scaling a cliff is hard work and her hands had little to no grip on them, especially as her hands grew sweaty. But there weren't many people as experienced as she was. She must have jinxed herself because she immediately lost her handhold and began tumbling down into the void.

Her heart started beating, fast.

Badump.

Badump.

She caught hold of a ledge its rough texture tearing her hand. She could feel her blood, warm beneath her outstretched fingers, her breath coming in gasps.

Too close for comfort, I must still be drowsy.

She was too far down to go back up, might as well continue to the floor, if a little slower this time.

Iris had never been as clever as Yutir. She was more of a stab your enemies, think later. This had earned her the name "Knife-happy" amongst her peers. In the Institute under the Professor, she considered her skillset more finesse but she had enjoyed the awed look from the other students she received after doing something incredible.

She landed on the floor, her feet barely making a sound.

Wait, movement?

She stared down, a procession of people were all going towards the light, stumbling, almost intoxicated-like. They all wore the same robes she had on.

The dead.

She truly was in the Underworld. She began running, she had to head off Yutir, get to the Admissions Office before him and kill him. Otherwise it would be too late. She fingered the knife one more time. It's cool blade giving her the calm she needed.

Mortals never seemed to understand how little they had, in comparison to a god [https://img.wattpad.com/a31056d931c36ade84109896f1c4d7c0988d21e4/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f7a59456f493955583944515435513d3d2d313232373137303834332e3136663163396232336436633366386138363031323635333033352e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Mortals never seemed to understand how little they had, in comparison to a god. Time smothered them slowly, if they didn't die early of course.

The Office, a large black building that stayed dark quite frequently, hosted a multitude of creatures, furies, serpents, oh and ghosts. Meaning he had to stare at those pale unattractive mortal faces even after death.

He sat in his office, illuminated on one end by a large window letting the only light into the room. His desk and chair were set up right in front of the light casting a long shadow across the otherwise pitch black room. It was hard to tell how far the room went on, it could have been infinity. The swing of Newton's pendulum balls broke the silence with its rhythmic cracking noise.

"Nothing, again." He smiled, their was joy in a job well done and under his administration they had had no setbacks.

The door at the other end of the room opened and entered Hecate, the only remainder of the former administration. She was demoted now of course, no longer the right hand man of the god of death she brought him paperwork and ultimately worked as his assistant, a form of punishment, he had to rule with an iron fist.

"Ah, Hecate, any news?"

"No, sir, running smoothly as always. You have a board meeting in ten minutes though, with the other hells."

He stared down at his schedule. Of course she was right. Hecate was always right. "Thanks for the reminder, I'll be on my way."

So continued another day with the sound machine that was the Underworld, nothing ever went wrong, and if it did, he wasn't sure how we could keep control. Thankfully nothing ever happened under his watchful eyes.

Iris stared up, a spotlight creature watched from abroad, sitting on a pedestal its spindly legs dangling off the side [https://img.wattpad.com/312cab7d02f99ea38d2a764bb023861265719620/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f444c47775864596445695a704c773d3d2d313232373137303834332e313666316339626563343162653561643633333532353836383539332e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Iris stared up, a spotlight creature watched from abroad, sitting on a pedestal its spindly legs dangling off the side.

What if it see's me?

She'd rather not find out. But maybe of the god of death found her they could work together to kill Yutir. She brushed the thought from her mind, it was never good to meddle with gods.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her ankle, she almost screamed. Staring down to her horror she saw one of the souls had grabbed her it's cold clammy clutches sending shivers up her leg and straight to her spine.

Is it attracted to life?

She tried kicking it off.

To no avail its hand was razor tight.

She did the only thing she thought to do in that situation. She cut with the knife, slicing off the person's hand. With a sickening crunch she knew all to well.

The hair on the back of her neck began to tingle, she had the feeling she was being watched. She looked up just as the spotlight, turned red, aimed directly at her.

Dammit.

It seemed like she was going to make a larger splash than necessary. Hopefully this wouldn't have consequences.

The procession was heading towards a cave. She dove forward as the thing dived at her with unnatural speed.

Oh god, please.

She made it in, as the things hand closed around the empty space she'd been before.

To close for comfort. Far to close. But she had a job to do, and so, she continued on, farther and farther into the dark.