Lexi
With haste waters, the journey down the river was short.
Charon twisted the boat left. The mist split apart, revealing a new flat landscape that was coming fast. I tensed up, waiting for the inevitable crash of the boat against the stone bank.
Hecate giggled as the boat slowed dramatically.
“Doubting my abilities, young one?” Charon asked.
I turned guiltily to find him holding onto a stone post. His oar was on his lap, and a smile appeared under his beard, making it bulge out at the sides.
Hecate stood departing the boat.
I thanked him before leaving to follow my guide.
“’Tis my job,” he stated.
He pushed off from the stone, leaving the side of the river. The mist curled around him, and with a powerful row, he picked up speed away from us, disappearing into the darkness of the underworld.
I focused behind me, looking for the glow of Hecate’s torch. There was a little lighter here; several torches lined the walls, creating a trail leading to the tall, ancient iron gates. She stood in an open, expansive space, surveying the area, looking high and low. I took a few steps forward, also scanning over the area.
My footsteps echoed over the rushing waters as I approached her and the gates, but a rising growl made me pause.
I halted as I noticed large red eyes appear from nothing but black at the bottom of the gates. Three pairs of them shone and stared past Hecate to me.
As it rose from the darkness, it covered the tall gates, making me gulp.
A massive muscular body emerged with three snarling heads, each holding jagged teeth as the top lip curled up. It was covered in fur, black as night. Taking a colossal paw forward, chains rattled with every tiny movement it made. It sounded like the same chains as before at Pluto’s gate.
“Cerberus,” I whispered, astonished.
“Oh, there you are!” Hecate’s voice echoed around the open, flat land.
The colossal guardian of the underworld suddenly transformed. Recognising his friend, his eyes snapped to her, and the red eyes softened. All three heads turned towards her, all looking with eager anticipation.
The snarls quickly turned into soft whimpers as he laid back on the charred ground and crawled carefully towards her. A thumping could be felt as his long-spiked tail lashed back and forth, wagging. He turned into an overgrown puppy, asking for affection from the goddess of magic.
“Have you been good? Yes, yes,” she cooed in a baby voice, reaching for one of the giant heads.
Each head veiled for her attention, nuzzling into her hand. Her fingers barely scratched behind the ears of one, seeking the same attention. She kept babying him for a moment, and he lapped the attention.
“Yes, that’s right, little Cerberus, on duty!” she continued, giving each head equal attention.
‘Little?’
She looked at me over her shoulder and winked.
“Come, say hello.”
I stepped closer to the happily panting dog and cautiously reached a hand to one of its heads.
Its hot breath could be felt from miles away. The piercing red eyes, now relaxed, watched the hand and leaned forward.
Giving my hand a quick sniff, his large, rough tongue licked my palm and forearm, leaving a lovely slobber behind. Although I felt disgusted, it was adorable, making me giggle lightly.
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“Oh! What’s this I have for you?”
She magicked up a stick out of thin air. The thumping from its scaly tail increased tenfold as all three heads snapped to the prize, following it as she moved it from side to side.
“See it? Fetch!”
She threw it effortlessly as it reached the ceiling before coasting away into the darkness. Cerberus leapt up and, chasing it, cleared half the room in one bound.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, grasping my hand.
She watched the dog chase the stick as we hurried towards the gates.
She pulled me to the left, towards the wall instead of the large dooming gates.
Hecate patted her dress before her hand disappeared into a concealed pocket, all the while watching the large dog, now chasing the zooming stick left and right, being controlled by her magic.
She pulled out a long silver key and placed it in front of the wall. It shifted like quicksand, revealing a keyhole. As she inserted it, little gritty stone and mortar fell away, revealing the outline of a steel door.
It opened inwards as she pushed it, showing a new set of tunnels.
She smiled, holding an arm out, allowing me past her. The new door slowly closed just as Cerberus caught his stick.
“Don’t wipe that.”
She grasped to my arm, still glistening from the saliva.
“It will disguise your scent while we are down here.”
“My scent?” I asked.
“Welcome to the house of Hades, mortal.”
She continued down the new tunnel with the torch, ignoring my question.
“Now, we find the fates,” she sighed, putting the key back into her pocket.
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Maddie
“Shit,” she cursed, turning to hit the wall of her crumbling house.
The loud thump startled a few of her crows, making them take flight.
One stayed perched before her, watching its master.
It was a rooky mistake, leaving behind her athame at the scene. She let her anger towards herself cloud her judgement; now, she left a clue behind. It was a direct lead to her.
Her crow was sent to retrieve it, but the detective was inspecting the scene and carrying it away when it arrived.
Maddie paced, thinking.
She scratched the marker mark out; tracing it would take him a while. She made sure to pay in cash but did not disguise herself. It was not a common mass-produced item but the only one of its kind.
The only people who saw her with the knife were her tight-knit coven and Cornelius. All of whom were spelled not to reveal her identity at any cost.
She took a deep breath, reassuring herself.
The only loose end was the maker...
Time for a visit.
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Isobelle
As the sun rose, Isobelle gently rubbed the back of Lexi’s hand with her thumb. The grief within her only strengthened as the coven awoke to the news and learned all that had happened while they slept peacefully.
The little coven was sleeping all over the house: Lathen on the sofa, Devan in her armchair, and the girls in her daughter's bed.
She didn’t mind. It kept her house a little bit more lively. It reminded her she was not alone.
After the hard night they all endured, they deserved sleep.
Her front door gently opened, and the smell of baked goods and coffee travelled into the small room.
Isobelle silently got up and greeted Cynthia, placing waffles, pancakes and coffee on the table.
No words were exchanged as they hugged, leaning onto one another for support. Cynthia cried for the both of them as Isobelle’s eyes had no more tears to cry.
“M-may I see h-her?” Cynthia hiccupped, wiping her eyes as she pulled away.
Isobelle nodded, not trusting her own voice, and leaned on a nearby chair as Cynthia stepped to the side with a lingering touch on her shoulder.
While the smell of warm baked goods was pleasing, her hunger was missing. She stared at the steam escaping the coffee cup, listening to Cynthia's hushed words whispering to Lexi in the small room.
A knock at the door interrupted Isobelle’s musings. Rocking back on her heels, she absentmindedly answered the door, staring passed her visitor.
“Oh Isobelle…”
She tried to prepare herself for the pitiful voices. She had heard it before: ‘Sorry for your loss’, but she didn’t prepare herself for this moment. Isobelle felt her anger boiling as she stared at the former coven leader. His eyes sad, sorrowful and guilty.
She took the hug from Winnie with no emotion and continued staring at her husband.
Isobelle recalled the countless times she tried to reconcile with her late husband and Nixon. She wanted her daughters lock lifted years ago. She wanted the whole coven to learn defensive spells. Her suggestion was quickly shot down.
“We are safe, there is no need for them to protect themselves.”
Nixon would state.
“You,” Isobelle shook.
Not once did he listen to her, she stupidly followed his lead.
Her breaths became uneven pants as rage filled her. Winnie tensed and left the half-hearted hug, stepping to the side in concern.
She held up a shaky finger, pointing directly to him, “This is your fault.”
Nixon’s eyes widened at the woman before him in disbelief, gawping like a fish thinking of a reply.
“I asked you. REPEATEDLY. To teach them to defend themselves after the vision came.”
Words tumbled from Isobelle’s mouth, her quiet whisper turning louder with each breath.
“Not once did you listen to me.”
She took a step forward, forcing him to cower backwards. She continued moving forward, now close enough to prod and poke him. She scolded him like he were a child.
“Instead, you locked her magic away. Scared them all to death of the dark, as you called it. Left them defenceless. Blamed my daughter for what happened in Whitby.”
Nixon did nothing, he stood taking the woman’s rage, as she poked and shoved and smacked.
She grabbed his shirt forcing him to look into her eyes, “Now, she is dead.”
She choked on her last word, ears filling her sore eyes.
“She is gone. My little girl,” she uttered dropping to the floor sobbing.
Cynthia emerged from the house, after hearing the shouting. She fled to Isobelle, giving glares to Winnie and Nixon.
Winnie stood just to the left of the front door, with a hand over her mouth in shock, unsure of what to do. She looked to her husband as he stared down to the ground in guilt.
“You need to leave,” she whispered.
He glanced to her and with a nod, turned and left the premises.
Leaving the women to pick up the pieces.