The Fire of the Fated (The Chosen Series Book 3) by K.C. Hamby

Author:K.C. Hamby [Hamby, K.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-19T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 42

Falen

Fool. You can’t run from Death.

I chase the man who got one look at me and bolted. Annoying, really.

He knows he’s a piece of shit. Serial rapist, thief…I could go on. The vision I received was very thorough about his…unfortunate sins.

I breathe in and Move in front of him, body evaporating into smoke before becoming whole again.

Pure fear floods his eyes as he slams on his brakes and attempts to turn back around, but I grab his fragile throat with an erratic pulse fluttering beneath my hand. He chokes as I lift him in front of my face.

My touch changes his skin, blackness spreading from my fingers as if Death is a rotting poison rapidly taking over the body of the man.

Interesting.

A dark laugh leaves my lips as a cracking line of stinking rot crawls over his chin. “You thought you could run from me?”

I shove him, letting him fall to the cement, wetting himself with fear. His piss is potent in the air, floating around us as waves of pungent heat. He opens his mouth to no doubt beg for mercy, but my scythe is moving for his throat before he can get a single word out.

Blood sputters from his new neck accessory as I slam my open hand into his chest. My fingers move past flesh and bone, plunging into the very core of his being. I grasp a solid yet wispy thing thrashing, wanting to run from my grip.

“O thánatos sas ischyrízetai,” I purr, the magic words needed to command his body to release his soul.

Death claims you.

Kindly, I give him a smile and a pat on the head before I yank his soul from his chest.

I’m Moving before his body hits the ground and disintegrates.

When I stop Moving, I am at the black-sanded riverbank of the River Styx snaking along the edge of the Underworld. It is deep and bright blue, almost reminiscent of the ocean around Olympia. Only, the night sky cannot be seen here. No, we are within the earth, all that hangs above are the sharp stalactites pointing dangerously toward the ground.

The river itself is full of sorrowful souls who could not pay the toll to crossover into their designated afterlife—the coins placed upon the eyes of the deceased or given upon arrival to the souls because of the goodness within—and they are constantly swimming and never finding peace. The souls were not exactly good and not terribly evil, so they are in a sort of purgatory for eternity. Their mouths are open in agony as they pass, and there is a faint sound of moaning in the thick air lingering above the water.

This is the river separating the world of the living and the dead.

It is named after the goddess of the river, Styx, and it contains magical properties because of her abilities to make anyone invulnerable. This is the same river Achilles was dipped in by his mother, Themis, making him impervious to harm and defeat. Of course, except for the ankle his mother held onto while he was submerged in the waters.

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