#bdrphellrunner

Sally had many reasons to be where she currently was. She could tell you all of them, lay out the paths that would intertwine into what would become the journey she had ahead of her. She had seen all that would befall her, each puzzle piece before they all have even begun. 

Funny... she had always tried to stop her visions from occurring, but she has begun to learn that each puzzle piece shown to her was a string in the grand loom of fate. 

It all was going to happen. It was what was meant to be, she was only to help it move along, become the weaver that adjoined each string together. 

She was to weave together four different stories, one including her own and they all began at the bottom of the crumbling steps Sally was staring before her. The entrance to the Underworld.

The air around her was still, branches didn’t sway and life seemed to cease. The soft running of the Kahaku River was all that was heard echoing against the thickened bark of looming trees. All was lit in a soft aura of bright blue, even Daniel as he hovered beside her seem to glow in a gentle blue.

Are you sure you want to do this, Sals? 

Sally didn’t move her eyes away from the steps in front of her simply nodding her head in return. “I’m certain. It’s what I have to do.” 

Then... why aren’t you moving? You know that I will go with you every step of the way. 

A small smile softly touched her features, her gaze drifting over to her dearest friend. “I know, but this journey isn’t mine alone. It belongs to three others as well.” 

Daniel seemed confused, but Sally’s line of vision moved over to the forest that was stretched out behind her to see the figure of a woman approaching her, skin tanned, luscious dark brown hair that flowed down to a slightly swollen belly. 

Raksha hadn’t thought that she would be finding anyone near the entrance of the Underworld and seeing another person, well a woman with ginger hair merely standing there and smiling over at her... that made her weary. Why was she here just standing around, and at the entrance of the Underworld of all places? That, however, mattered little in the end. Raksha was determined to find her son and if this woman wanted to linger by the entrance of the Underworld then so be it. It wasn’t going to stop her. 

Sally smiled, feeling the strong beating of that determination filling her own chest. “Don’t worry, I’m not here to stop you from finding your son, but you might want to wait before heading down. There are still two others who are shortly behind and we’ll be needing them.”

Raksha eyes filled themselves with shock. This woman spoke about her son, but... how?! No one knew of Rahil save her pack, and husband. She was about to force the information out of her if need be when the sound of footsteps caused her to quickly turn around. In front of her stood a girl, whom Raksha recognized thoroughly from the memories that were placed in her from this world. 

“Violet?! What are you doing here?” 

Violet simply grinned those smart-ass smirks that she loved placing on her features. “The same as you I’m going to guess. ....You’re going down there... right? Because I’ll go down with you. I can be of... value. I... can’t stay up here. I’m not a fucking Priestess and my brothers... they’ll be okay... trust me... I can be of use.”

“She’s right.” Sally chimed in. “She will be of great value.” 

Raksha gave Sally a piercing glare from the depths of her dark brown eyes. Violet quirked a brow. “Who the fuck is she?”   

“You have a foul mouth for someone your age.” Raksha reprimanded in a low growl, but she’ll be damned if she had to become responsible for the life of such a young girl who still had so much to live. “You should not be here. There is no reason for you to be traveling to the Underworld. Return back to your house, or the Temple.”

“Curiosity is hers.” Again Sally chimed in, her eyes now falling over Violet. “Curiosity killed the cat you know.”  

Violet blinked lost of words in shock at how this redheaded woman knew the reason for her desire to travel down under. See, Violet had a love for Dante’s Inferno, was always fascinated in such things since a young age and this... this was her chance. The hell she was going to let it slip away to sit on her knees and pray some boring ass pointless prayers. Violet was about to retort, when Sally suddenly gave a little clap of her hands, her smile growing big and wide. 

“Oh good! Number four is here!” 

And right on cue appeared Minnie, a look of confusion decorating her features as her eyes fell over a group of three ladies all hovering by the entrance of the Underworld. She paused in her steps. “I-uhh.. number four..?  I’m sorry... but I don’t really think I know any of you....” There wasn’t a face Minnie recognized between the three ladies, but she wasn’t here to recognize faces was she? She was here to pull some bloody crazy stunt that she wasn’t exactly sure, nor confident could be pulled off, and travel the Underworld to find her loved ones. 

“Yes, number four. We were all waiting for you.” Sally answered as both Violet and Raksha looked at her with straight disbelief coating their eyes.

“We?” Raksha exclaimed in a bit of a bite as Violet simply looked at Sally with her head cocked to an angle. “Again.... who the fuck are you?” 

Sally simply smiled her eyes traveling over all three ladies, ladies in where she will be aiding in weaving their journeys. 

“I’m Sally. I’ve seen all of our journeys, each one’s path down in the Underworld. It’s my magic. I have visions, and each of you have your own cause for needing this journey, but without the other it will all fail. We each offer a piece that is needed to become successful. We all do: myself, Raksha, Violet, and Minnie.” Sally’s eyes were glittering now with a weird wonder and sense of fascination as she purposefully spoke each name to prove her point in seeing what has yet to come. “So, what do you say? Will you all fight me? Or—”

Sally began to walk towards the stairs taking the first initial steps into the dark gaping hole that lead to the Underworld. “Follow me? It all up to you, but as we are all heading to the same place.... what is there to lose?”

Trigger Warnings: Death, Suicide.

I went for a soundtrack for the journey through hell? Even though I have not...been around.....a lot....for this event and probably won’t be able to write anything for them for it because I’m how do you say...trash. But I would like to think or will probably head canon that James went down there for the reason that he has been all over the world and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be in Hell. He can add it to the list with all the countries he’s ventured to you know. 

Anyways, let’s all laugh as I try to give an explanation to these choices in songs. I believe the only one that has words in it is the one from Breaking Bad, Goodbye, but I kept to all score/soundtracks because that’s usually what Jiminy listens to and it was fun to try and find stuff that would fit into his walk. BEWARE: This got out of hand because I know I won’t be able to partake in the challenges or anything so I just dump a lot of ideas into this to try and compensate. 

Another warning: I don’t know music. I don’t know anything. Whatever I say here is, lbh, ramblings. So, like I said, let’s all laugh as I try to figure out instruments and how to describe music with words. 

1. Your Father Would be Proud: Start with an ender aye. So this is the song that plays in Rogue One when (Spoiler Warning, kids it’s on Netflix pls watch Star Wars and love yourselves) Jynn and Cassian go out on the beach to hug it out and wait for death. But for me I thought it was a nice tune for James to go walking into the forest with and then venture down the stairs. Towards the end when the brass comes in it gets really full in sound with the trumpet (??) letting loose for a second, that’s him making it down to the bottom and looking around like, “Oh wow.” And like the very end is probably him looking around like, this is so dope, but the sadness and the impending doom at the endend when the Death Star finally ends everything is it being like, yeah, this is HELL, so good luck on your journey you idiot. It gets kinda big and I like that because even if Hell isn’t all that in CGI, I think he would still feel an overwhelming force from the scenery of it because his muse is a cricket and to him, everything is HUGE, so I put that into Jame by him knowing he’s just a spec in the vastness of the universe, so yeah, looking around Hell is kinda a big deal for him. 

2. On a Hymnsong of Philip Bliss: This song would be playing after he decided which path to take. And it’s kind of grand in the beginning and then it gets small again for a while, and then ooooooOOO it starts getting bigger. And then get them drums in there, and it slows down and seems to finish with that only to get quiet again, like a soft hum, until that melody starts again, and the lil triangle, until it ends. T h a t is what I imagine the first part to be like for him. Ebbing and flowing with his awe until he finally calms down enough to continue on his walk. The big parts are probably him seeing those who live in that area, seeing the kinds of scenes Hell puts forth, and then finally chilling out enough to continue on his walk. 

3. Locke’d Out Again: I was so sold on Lost when I saw the first season. I thought it was so good, and then I never watched any of the other seasons. So. Rip me. But this song still sticks out to me when I think about that show. And what’s even better, I could add it to this playlist. It’s so beautiful with all the instruments going back and forth and then the piano takes over everything and my god. This, my friends, is where James’s background comes out to play. This is when someone would come out onto the path he chose to greet him and it would be a reunion of the sad variety. I don’t want to go into detail because his past is still a secret! Stay tuned to find out! If any of you are even reading this far, lmao I doubt, but anyways. The song went with John Locke’s discovery that he could walk again, and it would fit into James seeing that person and reaching out tentatively towards them only to find them as a solid entity in front of him once more. Tears and hugs and all that mushy stuff would take place. But the thing that sold me on this song for this part of Hell was the ending. The last few seconds that make such a sweet/sad/moving song end on a sinister note. Because Hell pulled the carpet out from under James and lets him fall on his ass as he meets the first challenge. 

4. MacBeth: This song is slow and gives me such desolate vibes. There’s that pitched sound that comes and goes and idk the name of it, but I love it in this piece with the low string coming in later to give it a partner. The first challenge would be set to this because the first challenge would be Death. That person(s????) from the scene before would die in front of him. And that part would be silent from any music because it would probably have to happen several times over until Jiminy finally gave into Hell and realized that he can’t save them and therefore lets them die, but the part afterwards. When he’s probably just holding their body and just sitting trying to recover. That’s when this song would play. Putting more emphasis on the effect that had on him. Don’t wanna get spoilery, not that anyone is still reading, but. 

5. The Way: The Way kind of reminds me of the Inception soundtrack with the piano playing that one note, but it also has a darker thing going on which is what I wanted for the next part. The Judgement Door would come and go and James would be in the dark, walking along until he got to the muddy bit, but this would accompany the little montage of him walking in the dark, trying to light a light only for the wind to whisk it away, and then having to move forwards. He isn’t excited about this adventure anymore. After the first challenge he’s sad and regrets his choices in coming down the stairs, but knows he can’t go back. This song will probably get him to the Marshes. It starts doing that clapping bit indicating something is coming. And that would be wrong. Because something is waiting for him. His second Challenge. The second part of the song gets kinda fighty to me, so we would but the monster of Scylla here, as he tried to get into a boat and she just won’t let him and tries to drown him, too. I don’t?? Know if that’s viable, but I needed a monster who he was able to speak too because that’s all he has really. His voice. So in the midst of him trying to fight her at one point, when she’s probs got the upper hand on him, he would say something that would make her stop. Leading us to...

6.  Histoire Sans Nom: Gosh, what a song. It’s got so much to it, I really enjoyed it. I put it on the playlist because it would be a good background to the tail end of Jiminy and Scylla’s conversation. He would listen to her woes, give her advice, and she would hopefully allow him safe passage. Again, idk if that’s an option here, but for the sake of Jiminy’s lack of knowledge in fighting I’m going to hope it is. This song would be the end to her sad story she tells him and Jiminy’s advice to her, and then the departure. The tone is kinda sad to fit with the sad things going on, Scylla’s story and the continuation of James’s journey on the Marshes. The end dies off so that’s him waving to her and watching as she gets back into the water near the boats to continue her life as a monster in Hell because that’s all she’s got left to do. Which would be sad for him to see that he couldn’t change her mind at all. This, I think, would be his third challenge. Seeing someone he thought he had helped, that he had put effort into listening to their problems, only to find out that he hadn’t even helped them at all. This is his Sorrows. Because that’s the worst thing in the world to him. So the ending to this song would be him floating in the boat for a long ass time crying and crying until he fell asleep. Only to wake up in the middle of the water. Surround on all sides by it.The song would end on him falling asleep. When he wakes up he wouldn’t be fine, per say, but it would take him a while to get passed Scylla. 

7. The Threat of War: Starts of kinda slow, but it has that background tick to it, which I thought would be a good representation of him rowing the boat, over and over like the ticking sound across the water. Like The Way it would act for the boat montage across the water. Stopping every so often because he’s WEAK and doesn’t exercise, though he might start after this tbh, and looking down at the souls under the water. And when it gets kinda spooooky with a more...idk how to describe it but when the strings start making things feel rushed and like you gotta get outta there, probably at like 2:30, he would start running into the other boats with the Gluttonous souls. And when it gets kinda panicky that’s James trying to get out of the way of a war between two boats that are threatening to crash his. But manages to get out of there and moves on to land not soon after. It will also play into trying to get through the monsters at the end of the Mashes.

8. Goodbye: This has a heartbeat type thing going through it at the beginning. I figured after getting out of the marshes there would be no music for a while until he through The Wall (???somehow) and into the City of Dis. So the heart beat part is to his own, getting louder and louder. And then the I don’t even know what it is but like western-y guitar coming in every so often would be like in the Western movies when the hero comes into the town and looks around like. Where is everybody? And this would just be following him around as he walked throughout the city. There are words in this song because I also wanted to play on the fact that he isn’t alone here. He was never alone on his path really, but here he can’t seem to find anyone, but they’re there. And the words are there to show that. Even though he can’t find them right now, they’re there. The song ends when he sees someone, indicating he is no longer ‘alone’, on top of a building and watches them jump off. It scares the lights out of him, but when he closes his eyes against it, waiting for the impact sound to happen, it never comes. So he opens his eyes and walks up to the top of the roof where several other people are. There he inquires what the FUCK is going on as one of them jumps and he couldn’t run to the edge in time to pull them back and there isn’t a body down below. One of the people tells him that’s the way outta this place. To jump. One by one they all leave, and then, after a lot of pacing and a lot of talking himself up, he does too. 

9. It’s Not Forever: Mmm, the Suicide Forest. This song is just him walking through it. Just another James H. Cricket montage. 

10. Mr. Reese: I guess I must divulge some secrecy, /shift eyes/, not that I expect anyone to get this far, so lmao hi if you are, but THIS SONG. I love Person of Interest you guys, fml. This song is so beautiful. And I wanted to include it when James got here because the song would be when he heard the voice of an old friend there. Another therapist he went to school with. They were good mates, studied together, talked to one another all the time when they got out of uni. Then, one day he woke up to the news that he had committed suicide. AND LIKE THIS WOULD BE, I’m treating this like a movie and don’t care, WHEN IT WENT INTO FLASH BACK MODE OF THEIR LIVES TOGETHER. And him just kinda breaking a bit as he hears him talking again. But then peacing out real quick when other voices reach out and try to get him to join them.

10. My Mother’s Funeral: The End. This is a lil bit of music for his last little walk through the forest, and makes eyes with gift shop where I think the sudden drop off fits. James is like really weirded out by it but super charmed, too. I laughed so much when I read the post and Calcifer’s Family runs the joint. That is ADORABLE. So Jiminy would hang out here. Buy himself a regular shirt and other stuff because?? Fuck it dude this is HELL’S GIFT SHOP he’ll never get a chance like this again. And he has plenty of memories of his adventures around the world, so he’s literally set. He’s walking outta there with two bags on each hand. 

The steps were crumbling beneath Raksha’s feet, thin in width and almost appearing endless in route. It was as if all four women were going down, and down, and down with no final destination to be reached. They were all becoming unsteadier the further they went down, the steps themselves appearing smaller and smaller in size. 

Raksha feared that soon there will be no steps left to take and if they were to take an unprecedented fall.... Raksha knew that could severely harm her unborn child. She was aware that this entire trip down to the Underworld was a severe risk to the child growing inside of her, but Raksha had no alternative.

Rahil had been taken away from her, and it was a lost she has not been able to heal from. This was her chance at a closure she knew was needed. Without it, how will she be a good mother to her child? It wasn’t fair... this child deserved a chance at a loving mother and Raksha had to fight to offer him or her just that. 

At last, all four women reached the bottom, their feet landing on forest soil. Surrounding Raksha were lines of trees all barren, all silent, and motionless. Their branches casted shadows on the ground snaking one within the other ending in pointed jagged edges. It was in that moment that Raksha felt a frigid layer of cold sweep over her skin and that was an unlikely feeling for her as her wolf was a warm creature always isolating her in heat. This cold, however, penetrated deeper crawled itself inside of her setting her wolf on edge.

Raksha rolled her neck, soothing the beast so that she’d be able to set her focus on what mattered: the road ahead of her. They all continued walking settling in deeper within the forest. The deeper they got the lesser light became available as now only glimpses of such a thing spilled through the thick twining of branches all in hues of blue. 

They all came to a sudden stop as before them the forest had split into a series of different paths. One path was of sand, another of charred ash, fragmented glass, forest soil, wooden paneled tiles, cobbled stone and the last one covered in a pure white snow. 

“We’ve reached the paths.” It was the redheaded woman that broke the silence. “We choose the wrong one and we will all be lost forever.”

Violet looked at the ginger with a slight confusion in her eyes. “How... how do you know this?” 

“I have a dead friend who just told me.” All the other ladies looked at Sally with shock and a mixture of disbelief coating their eyes. “I can see dead people.” Was all she replied to their looks. It was Raksha’s turn to speak now.

“Well, will this dead friend of yours be telling us which path is the correct one to take?” 

In return Sally placed a smile on her lips turning to face the older woman. “Funny how it’s you who’s asking because you’ll be the one choosing the path for us.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes.” Sally spoke simply with knowing eyes staring back at Raksha. “You’ll be the one to choose our path. Your destination is our next step, where you are meant to go is where we all must past through first. This is your piece, Raksha. You’re the start of our journey, therefore you have to choose.”

Your piece? Your destination....? You are the start of the journey? This woman was speaking in riddles and that irritated Raksha, nevertheless she took a step forward. How.... how was she suppose to choose?! There were seven paths splayed out before her. How was she suppose to know which one wasn’t the one that would doom them all into an eternity they couldn’t come back from? She turned back around to face this allusive redhead of a woman. She wanted to growl deadly at her, threaten her even if she must to get her to speak what she knew, but to her surprise all three women were no longer there. 

Instead, the barren forest that was once lifeless around Raksha was now lit up in stark vivid flames of fiery red. The fire was viciously devouring the foliage, branches falling like rain dried in black shriveled ash. Smoke began to cover the skies in thick heavy fumes and Raksha could hear a noise that made her heart sink, and her body lose all ability in moving. 

It was the howls of those she loved, the shrieking cries of brutal slaughter befalling her pack. Each howl pierced sharper and deadlier than the one before, each one causing her wolf to mourn in deep despair. The beast clawed desperately inside of her crying and begging for release. The howls were becoming louder now mixing with the sound of haunting screams. Raksha....Raksha didn’t know what to do! 

The howls and the screams were filling her ear dreams each separate one a stab to her heart. The fire grew brighter, bigger, hungrier. It was spreading like a wild monster moving closer and closer to Raksha the thickness of the smoke blurring her vision and clotting her lungs.  She took a step back to try and move away from it all. Her mind felt heavily scattered and broken from the despair of the deathly howls and screams, her feet stepping into something wet.

....wet? It was thick as the liquid soaked up her feet within the sandals. Raksha looked down her eyes growing wide in fear. She was in the midst of a large pool of blood. The thick crimson red liquid had now covered the entire forest ground the smell pungent against the sensitivity of her nostrils. Even in the midst of the raging fire and the thickened blur of the smoke Raksha could start seeing the formation of bodies appearing on the blood covered ground. 

Raksha immediately stepped back again, tripping over a body that had formed behind her. She fell to the ground her robe covered in the heavy crimson substance, knees scrapping against the dirt and her body now over the lifeless corpse of Kavya, Akela’s mate. A piercing screamed escaped Raksha’s throat, tears now steadily streaming from her eyes. She desperately moved away crawling right into another body, the corpse of her dearest best friend, the one in whom Rahil had slept over their house the very night of the massacre. She was covered in burning scars, bullet holes decorating her body. Raksha covered her mouth with shaky hands. She couldn’t breath—she couldn’t breathe. 

But... another body began to form against the mass hysteria of the fire and the smoke and Raksha she-she knew who’s it was. It was a smaller body, one of a boy with unruly dark hair mixed in thick blood. His body was mangled and pale, legs and arms dislocated. The corpse was filled with merciless stabbed wounds and penetrating bullet holes. Raksha slowly crawled over to the body uncaring of the pool of blood she needed to move through, the fire, the smoke....

It was Rahil, and suddenly Raksha couldn’t take the unrelenting grief that raked and shook her entire body. She cried tears and tears and unending tears that were wrenched straight from out of her heart. She pulled the dead corpse to her chest holding it in a desperate embrace as her head buried itself in her son’s body.

“I—I c-can’t do this! T-this-this s-should have never been you Rahil. I-it should’ve been me! I-I’m sorry. I-I am so, so sorry.” She wept agony filled tears. Raksha didn’t want to move on, she couldn’t do this... she-she couldn’t do this. Not-not this. A voice suddenly penetrated the air, soft and young in a whisper that only breathed against Raksha’s ears.

That’s not me maan. I’m okay now, maan. It’s okay. I’m at peace now, I promise. It’s okay. 

“R-Rah-hil?” Raksha’s head shifted away from the corpse within her arms her eyes trying to find a figure within the thickened blur in front of her, but she couldn’t see anyone. All she could hear was the clear sound of her son’s voice.

You can do this, maan. You’re so close. That isn’t me. Let him go. Let him go for me and my baby sister. You know which way to go, maan. You can do this. 

“B-but I-I don’t know... Rahil I-I don’t know.”

You do know, maan. You already know. Let him go. You know maan.

Reluctantly, with a heavy heart, Raksha listened to the voice of her son allowing the corpse to drop from her arms. In that instant, the corpses had disappeared, the blood sucked into the ground and the fire had but all ceased. The smoke dissipated in the air and on the ground Raksha could now see the three ladies that had originally been with her. One of them, the young brunette, was perched down by her side, her arms around her and eyes filled with a frightened concern. 

“Raksha? Raksha are you alright?! We’ve been calling your name you wouldn’t respond a-and you started crying and s-screaming. W-what happened?” 

Raksha looked at Minnie with a lost gaze in her eyes, she shifted her blurry vision over to the redheaded woman standing up now as she wiped the tear stains from her cheeks. Rahil was right, she did know.

“It is the snow covered path. That is the one we have to go through.” 

“Are you sure?” Sally asked her eyes steady over the woman, eyes that knew what Raksha had currently gone through even if the other two had no idea.

“You said that my destination is where we all have to go next. My destination is my son. When he was young he loved the mountains of our home because of the pure white snow that covered the ground. It was his favorite pass time, to simply create snow angels in the piles of snow... That is the path we have to take.” 

Sally simply nodded her head stepping aside as she did so. “Then lead the way, Raksha.” 

Alice was, simply put, a mess in this world, and any other she found herself in. She’d been a mess back in the world she’d grown up in, she was a mess in Swynlake, and she was a mess in Ancient Greece. The only difference between Alice in all these worlds were the types of messes she became.

Back in the world she once called home, she’d been a rebellious mess. She’d always been too stubborn and prideful to let go of what she knew to be the truth, and it had caused her nothing but trouble. She’d run around, creating more messes than she had already, what with her magic and her fighting with peers who found her to be too odd. She’d made a mess of her life so badly that she’d had to be committed - unfairly so, but still - and then she’d had to find a way out of all the messes she had made.

In Swynlake, Alice was a quiet mess, slowly spinning out of control with no one to see but herself. She was a bundle of secrets carefully strewn together with lies. The problem was that she had convinced herself that her life was not a mess. Her life here was almost normal, even if she did constantly battle the instinctual need to rely on her magic, and lose. Even if she did feel the urge to peek back in on her childhood home every so often just to make sure nothing had changed there. She was a mess of conflicting impulses, wanting to be normal while at the same time feeling like she should embrace all of the things that made her different; wanting to be true to herself and yet, feeling the need to hide so much of who she was.

Here, in Ancient Greece, Alice was a mess of decisions. Never mind the fact that her family had messed up their own lives in this tale, Alice had continually made decisions that led to… well, a mess. After all, she’d been the one to decide running away was the best option for herself and Kiara, and look what had happened: They’d been caught and sold into slavery, separated for good.

And now, Alice was afraid she was landing herself in yet another mess she did not know how to handle as she found herself descending the staircase of a random, pitch black pit in the middle of the forest.

She had told herself she was doing it for Kiara. She had told herself she was doing it to help others. She had told herself that she had nothing to lose anyhow, because even if she died trying, Kiara still had other people to love and come to her aid, and Eva could always hire a replacement for her.

She had told herself death wasn’t all that scary, just the things leading up to it, usually.

And so, as she came to the bottom of a stairwell, she steeled herself with a deep breath meant to center her and give her strength. It didn’t really do much of either. Instead, uneasiness sat in Alice’s stomach as she looked around at the woods and found different paths stemming from the spot in which she stood.

It reminded her of a dream she’d had when she was little. She was in a very dark place with trees all around her, and talking animals that kept trying to get her more and more lost. It should have been scary, but to a girl like Alice who’d been forced to stay inside most of her life, the idea of getting lost felt quite enticing.

At the moment, however, Alice did not feel like getting lost. She knew she was standing in the Underworld - or, at least, close to it - and that did not seem like the sort of place one would do well to get lost in.

She looked around at the paths, and was also reminded of a poem. I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do. The quote echoed in her head. Alice, most certainly did not know what to do.

And so, she did the only thing she could think of: She stood at the beginning of each path, staring off into the distance of every single one, until she finally stood on a brick path that felt… right. There was a pull, somehow, as if someone had reached into Alice’s chest, grabbed a hold of her stomach, and was gently pulling her forward. She allowed herself to follow the tug, and eventually, came face to face with a mountain.

She blew air up towards her blonde locks in frustration. No one had said anything about climbing a literal mountain. But, she was here, and there was no stopping it now. And so she followed that tug, occasionally tripping over twigs and getting her robes caught in branches that reached out to her as if trying to stop her.

Aice would not stop. Alice climbed and climbed until she reached the very top, at which point she took a moment to breathe as she looked out among the fields below.

It was a sight to behold. There was… well, just about anything you could think of, from towering mansions to fields of flowers. The descent into the valleys came with an ease that climbing the mountain did not posses, and soon Alice was among spirits with a certain glow of happiness and peace to their expressions. It made Alice smile herself as she walked among them, and noted a small boy who’s empty hands suddenly now held a large ice cream cone that had not been there a moment before.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Alice whispered, and she moved among them all, watching as things appeared in dead spaces, hearing laughter and feeling like this was some strange sort of home to those long passed, one where they were happy and could have whatever they needed or desired.

How lovely it would be to live in such a place, even after death, she thought, but kept journeying onward. She could not stay here. She was not dead yet. She did not belong.

But then, did Alice ever really belong anywhere?

Eventually, she found herself descending a small hill and stumbling upon a rather large door. There was nothing on either side but darkness, though at the very top rested a scale, and Alice tilted her head, finding this rather peculiar. “What on earth could this be?” she wondered aloud, and suddenly, she saw the glimmer of a coin dropping from thin air onto one side of the large brass scale, weighing it down.

“Curious,” she breathed, and this time, she almost missed the dark, jagged form of a rock as it fell onto the other side of the scale, balancing things out. It fell with a harder thud, and Alice’s brows furrowed. “What could it possibly be weighing coins and rocks for?”

“Your life, of course.”

Alice nearly jumped at the voice, and turned to face a strange spirit she’d never seen before. It looked at her, head tilted and a furrow to it’s own brows. He was an old man, with wild hair and a pocket watch. He reminded Alice of someone her father might have grown old to look like, though he was never given the chance.

“I’m sorry- What did you say?” she asked, and she heard the clang of two gold coins falling onto the scale behind her. “It’s measuring my life? How do you figure that?”

The ghostly man gave a shrug, and smiled slightly. “It’s what the door does. It weighs out your life, the tips of each side of the scale. All the good versus all the bad.”

This made no sense to Alice. What right did a door have to weigh out her life? She turned back to it and shook her head as three stones fell onto the other side, tipping the scale in favor of what she could only assume to be the bad. “That’s bloody unfair! I shouldn’t have to stand here and watch as it judges me for the things I’ve done.” Red colored the blonde’s freckled cheeks, and she stormed up to the door, pulling and pushing on the large iron handles. It barely moved under her weight, and above her she heard more sounds of clanging and thudding on either side of the scale.

She whipped around to face the man again. “Why won’t it open?” she inquired of him with a stomp to her foot. It wasn’t his fault, but Alice felt an extreme frustration as the possibilities of what each stone represented flooded through her mind.

“It will open when it has finished, my dear,” the old man said. “You mustn’t be in such a hurry.”

“But I’m wasting time!” She had come here with a purpose: To free everyone from the trap of hell they’d found themselves in somewhere deep within the Underworld, in a prison Alice still had yet to find. She didn’t have time to wait for this door to go through her entire life, judging every action she’d ever made.

“There is no time wasted here,” the man said calmly, and chuckled a bit. “I do have to say - I knew when I saw yet another living soul enter this place, you all must be very determined to reach somewhere in particular. We don’t get many visitors that are here to sightsee. I’m glad I followed you.” He stepped - or rather, smoothly glided over - closer to Alice, then. “Tell me, where is it you’re in a hurry to get to?”

More clangs and thuds as stones and coins dropped above her head. Alice could hardly stand the sound, and all this man’s talking wasn’t helping. She tucked her hair behind her ears, which also felt heated and red at the tips, and then crossed her arms. “There’s a prison somewhere down here. I know it. I saw someone being dragged into the forest and then down into a pit after talking ill of our Queen,” she spat, and looked back up at the door when there was a momentary silence, slightly hopeful - only to watch as another stone came down hard on the ever growing pile of rocks. She tried not to count each one, and instead turned back to the man. “They’re trapped, and it’s not right. Someone’s got to try and help them, and that someone ought to be me.”

Another clang. “Why ought it be you?” the man asked quizzically.

“Because it just ought,” Alice replied. Another stone thudded into place.

“Yes, but why?” he pressed further, quirking a bushy white brow.

“Because it ought to be someone who doesn’t belong here in the first place!” she yelled, uncrossing her arms. Another stone fell, shifting the pile of rocks a bit, and Alice turned on her heel and ran up to the door, pounding on it. “Open up! Let me through already! There are people who need help! People with loved ones who care about them and miss them terribly! People who need them! Open! The! Door!”

Alice pounded once more with her fists, stones and coins rapidly falling... and then there was silence. She took in ragged breaths, and quickly felt overcome with regret for her outburst, eyes filling with tears that she blinked back. Sniffling, she turned her blonde head up to look at the scale, and after a few moments of staring at the side of rocks that weighed heavy, five more golden coins fell to join the other side, and outweighed the balance in favor of good.

A breath of disbelief escaped Alice as a strange clanking sound was heard, and she stood back as the door begun to open, slowly creaking out into someplace new.

She turned around to face the strange man, who wore nothing but a smile, and gave her a nod. “It is finished,” he chuckled, and held up a finger. “The prison you seek is far from here. The journey will not be easy. I don’t think you will be as successful as you may hope, however, I do wish to be proven wrong. Good luck, dear.”

And with that, he turned to drift away, and Alice blinked as she watched him go.

Terrified, however, that the door may close on her and she’d have to wait again, Alice turned and ran through the two towering wooden planks, and breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself safe on the other side.

Jane looked up as they flew, the wind blowing through her hair. She wondered what was above them now—rocks? Molten lava? A stormy sky?

All she saw was blackness, though, a dark void.

She wondered how it was all set up. The area of the Lustful had been pitch black as well, but the Swamp had been an eerie greenish-yellow and the paths had been light enough for her to see where she was going. Was there a moon? A sun? Or just a vast void of emptiness above them?

She gripped tighter on the harpy’s back, feeling the powerful wings beat against the dark, endless sky.

The wall was higher than she could have imagined, but eventually, the harpy soared above it and Jane looked down at the city that unfolded beneath them.

The harpy began to dive and Jane held on tight, her hair whipped behind her, the wind stinging at the open wound on her arm.

They landed on a rooftop, the outstretched talons of the harpy scraping against the cement. Jane took a moment to catch her breath, then slid off of the harpy’s back. She took a step, facing the harpy, then bowed her head towards her.

“Thank you,” she said.

The harpy looked her straight in the eye.

“One more challenge, you face,” she said. “Hardest.” Then she dipped her head low. “Farewell, human.”

And beating her great wings, she took off into the sky.

Jane craned her head back watching the harpy and then scanned the horizon.

In front of her was a city, towers and buildings, all crooked and ramshackle, buildings that looked sleek and modern, buildings that looked like they were built out of clay and straw, crumbling buildings that looked like they could have housed emperors once, buildings that looked like black, burned husks.

It was night, it seemed, the only light a flat grey from an unseen moon.

The rooftop Jane was standing on was flat, grey concrete, nondescript. There was a doorway and Jane reached for the handle, revealing a staircase that descended into the dark. She took a deep breath. She could hear the city around her, a loud cacophony of sirens and screaming and laughter that sent chills down her spine.

She stepped down.

It was quieter here, she heard only her footsteps, which echoed with each step. She kept a hand on the railing, feeling the rust break off beneath her fingers and dropping into the darkness. She counted the steps. 1…15…45…89…

The stairway ended in a barren room, the only light from the window, from the lights of the city, neon and white and flashing. The walls were a dull grey, the floor the same colour, everything in concrete, hard.

“Jane?”

She turned her head and standing across the room to her left was—Paul.

She could not see much of him, he was in the shadows, but she could see his smile. He started to walk towards her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, voice breathless.

“I ran after you,” he said. “You asked me if I would run, yeah?”

“No—I—I asked if you’d run after Perdita,” she said, but she walked towards him. Now that he was in the light of the window, she could see he was disheveled, shirt torn, blood streaked across his face, a heavy gash on his arm. Her heart lurched and she darted towards him, reaching down to rip another piece of fabric from her skirt. She pressed it against his wound, the blood warm beneath her fingers.

Tears crept into her eyes and her fingers fumbled as she tried to wrap the fabric.

“You shouldn’t have come,” she said, not looking at him. “Who’s going to take care of Patch?”

Paul didn’t say anything; he cupped a hand on her cheek, tilting her head up towards him. She felt her heartbeat in her throat.

She had memories of this—of Paul looking at her the way he was looking at her now, his lips slightly parted. It made her head a little spinny, her fingers fumbled again.

“Come back, Jane,” he said, softly. “Come back—be with us. Me and Patch. We need you. I need you. We can be a family, yeah?”

Jane opened her mouth slightly as Paul dipped his head closer.

No-no-no-no---

Suddenly, they weren’t in that grey room anymore, but in front of a fireplace. And Jane’s clothes were clean and there was not a gash on Paul’s arm, but he still held her face tenderly. The fire crackled. Jane smelled fresh bread, she smelled broth, she heard—

She heard footsteps and laughter and she turned her head and there was Patch, only Patch looked about five now and he ran towards them, arms outstretched, grabbing them both around the legs.

“Mummy!” he said. “Daddy!”

Paul laughed, leaning down to ruffle his hair, then scooped him up.

“Let’s get some dinner now,” he said, then leaned quickly to press his lips to Jane’s cheek.

He pulled away and Jane saw that he wasn’t wearing a tunic and sandals, but a jumper and jeans. Normal clothes. She blinked, looking at the surroundings. There were family pictures over the mantelpiece—Jane, Paul, and Patch, all smiling.

Jane wrapped an arm around herself and—

She looked down, gasping slight, at her bulging stomach, which curved in the way only pregnancy could.

She was due in two months. It was going to be a girl. They were going to name her Ellie.

In a daze, she walked towards the dining table, where dinner was set out, fresh bread and soup.

“Mummy, you look funny,” said Patch, with a giggle.

“Mummy had a long day at work. Her gallery’s having a big show next week. Remember, we’ve got you that nice little suit?”

Jane sat, staring straight ahead, her head spinning still.

She worked at a gallery—she was the head curator. They were having a show, they were having a show, and she had a gorgeous green dress which hung loosely over her pregnant stomach. She was going to have a little girl. They had painted the nursery already, her and Paul, they’d picked out the first books for her library.

(She dipped a spoon in the broth).

They had bought lots of plush animals. The walls were yellow. Patch was excited about having a sister—

The spoon clattered to the bowl.

No. Patch already had a sister. He had a sister and he had a mother and she was not that mother and—

Jane stood up.

“This is a lie,” she shouted.

Paul looked at her, only she knew it wasn’t Paul, his eyes were too dark and there was a twist in his lips that she knew would never be there.

“Isn’t this what you want, Jane?” he asked, and his voice was velvet, did not sound like Paul. “You’re a mother. You’re loved. You have an art gallery.”

“No—this isn’t what I want—“

The minute she said that, she was no longer standing at a dining table.

She was standing, back pressed against a brick wall, wearing a short skirt, a top that plunged low. There was loud music coming from somewhere.Everything was bathed in a reddish-pink light, bright neno. She smelled smoke. She smelled sweat and sex.

“Is this what you want?” and it was Paul again, leaning against the wall as well, facing towards her, a hand on her hip, his thumb stroking the bare bit of skin on her waist.

“Don’t you miss it?”

It was another voice this time, from behind her, and she knew who it was without looking, was familiar with the warmth pressed against her back, the lips that kissed the corner of her neck.

“Don’t you miss me?” Tom said, whispering in her ear, his breath tickling the one little spot that sent shivers down her spine.

“’course she does,” said another voice and it was Hades walking towards her.

As soon as he reached her, he curved a hand around her throat, closing his fingers ‘round it and let out a dry laugh.

“She misses it rough,” he said, tightening his grip, and Jane gasped a little for air, and the three men around her laughed. She pressed her legs together, heartbeat quickening.

“Y’know, she used to have me tie her up,” said Tom, whose hand had slid down to her ass. “Had all these silk ties, ropes sometimes.” He slapped her. “Had me spank her sometimes.” With his other hand, he yanked Jane’s hair back so that she could look at him.

She felt her breathing get faster.

She hadn’t seen Tom face-to-face in years.

She could kiss him now—let him fuck her against this wall, she wanted to feel him inside her again, wanted Hades’s hand around her throat, looking Paul right in the eye--

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Tom said, lip curling up. “Liked taking it from behind and liked it when I pulled on your hair?”

“She wants it again,” said Paul and his hand slipped from her waist to her thigh, creeping between her legs.  “Misses that.”

“I told her,” said Hades, crocking up an eyebrow. “That professor of hers doesn’t fuck her like she deserves, the slut.”

Professor—

Jane’s breaths were ragged. She looked Hades right in the eye (it was not Hades, it was this place, this place playing tricks on her) and she spat on him.

“I don’t WANT this!” she yelled, kicking back, hitting Tom (not Tom, Tom was in San Francisco, Tom wasn’t here, could not be here) in the groin.

She flailed her arms and then she ran.

Everything was blurry—all lights, fleeting, fast, she didn’t know where she was going, just kept running, until she tripped, falling forward, hands scraping against a cold, hard floor. Jane blinked. The floor was grey concrete, the only light from a window. She was wearing sandals again, a long Grecian tunic.

She was back in the room.

The other side of the door was pitch black, and winds wailed so loudly. Jane held onto her mother’s hand. She had read the Inferno in uni (one of Tom’s favourites, incidentally) and she tried to remember what was next—if anything was next.

She took a moment, in this darkness, to reflect. Her mother spoke of the fields and there had been a river. She had also spoken of a place of treasures. That all sounded very Greco-Roman. Which meant that beyond these doors, would be a place of punishment.

There was no purgatory, it seemed, no limbo for non-believers—there was peace and waiting, riches and celebration, ghosts that still wandered (which Jane supposed was as purgatory as it got)—and then beyond would be—

Well, she had nothing to go off of except the Inferno, which she knew was more Judeo-Christian, but would have to suffice right now.

After Limbo came Lust.

Lust was a storm.

Those winds were the wailing of the damned.

(She wondered, perhaps, if she’d end up in here—but no, no, she told herself. Sex wasn’t bad. It was sex that hurt others—that was bad).

“Just keep on,” Eleanor yelled to Jane, squeezing her hand.

They walked forward, blindly, the wailing overwhelming in Jane’s ears. Sometimes, she could pick apart a single voice, but she tried to let it go as soon as possible, because it made her chest feel all tight and she did not want to think about people who were trapped down here for all eternity.

“Let’s sing a song,” said Eleanor.

“Yes, let’s,” said Jane. She needed to concentrate on something that wasn’t the wailing voices of the damned.

Eleanor started.

“Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, Lavender’s green,” she sang, squeezing Jane’s hand harder.

“When I am King, dilly dilly, you shall be queen,” continued Jane.

She focused on her own voice, her mum’s voice, and she thought of childhood, running through their little Bloomsbury flat with a cape round her shoulders, a plastic crown on her head, chasing her mum, who would sweep her long skirts into a curtsy and sing. She thought of how she would stub her toe on the coffee table and her mum would scoop her up and sing to her and stroke her hair. She longed for childhood now, where any trouble was nothing compared to her mother’s embrace.

“Call up your me—oh!” Jane’s foot stuck into something wet. Ugh, the Grecian sandals were massively impractical and she felt the mud squish between her toes.

“There’s a light,” said Eleanor. “There’s boats.”

Jane could see now. Her vision adjusted and sure enough, just as her mother had said, there were boats. Jane furrowed her brow, but trod over to one of them, her feet sinking into the mud with each step. She pulled her feet up, the ground making a sucking sound as she did so, and finally reached the boat. Glancing up, she saw an eerie swamp in front of them.

“The only way out is through,” said Eleanor, stepping into the boat, the tip of her sword hitting the side of it.

Jane pushed off the boat and got in, reaching for an oar.

“Don’t look down,” said Eleanor and she looked right at Jane. “Straight forward, Lady Jane. We will make it through.”

In the distance, Jane saw another boat drift past, a tall man with messy reddish-brown hair and a face that needed shaving stood on it, staring intently into the water. It drifted past. Jane blinked and it was gone.

“We mustn’t hit the other boats, yeah?” whispered Jane. Eleanor nodded solemnly.

For some reason, there were crickets. Jane did not know where the light was coming from but everything was an eerie greenish-yellow glow, like a night lit by a full moon. She heard the crickets from the trees, the slosh of her paddle in the water, and occasionally, some splashes from a nearby boat.

“Your grandfather’s here,” said Eleanor softly. “On one of the boats.”

Jane had never met her mum’s dad; he walked out on the family when Eleanor was only nine.

“How do you know?” asked Jane.

“I feel it in me,” Eleanor said, and sighed. “It’s alright. I never really knew him. He dropped all contact with us, you know.”

“I know,” said Jane.

The boat hit a shore and Eleanor leapt out, reaching a hand towards Jane.

They walked along the path, the trees fading out, till the only thing beneath their feet were the gravel of the path.

Up ahead in the distance, there was a long wall, stretching across. Jane craned her head to the left and then to the right. The wall did not seem to have any end, or any opening in fact. She craned her head backwards, as well, trying to see if she could see the tippy-top of it, but to no avail.

“How do I—“

Her words were cut off by a piercing screech and from the corner of her eye, she saw some winged creature swoop down at her.

“Mum!” cried Jane.

There was a loud clang, and Jane saw Eleanor’s sword in front of her, clashing with the outstretched talons of the great beast that had swooped down at them. Jane looked up—it had the upper torso of a human woman, massive wings—a harpy.

Harpy, harpy, harpy, Jane tried to remembered her magizoology textbooks as the harpy pushed off the sword and flew back up, beating its wings and screeching to the wall.

“Harpies fly in flocks,” said Jane.

Sure enough, two more joined the middle harpy, who had fair blonde hair and pale skin, with brilliant creamy feathers to match. The one on the right had dark hair and skin the colour of the earth, with brilliant brown feathers. The one on the left had fiery red hair and copper-coloured skin, her wings just as coppery.

The middle one let out a screech and dove.

“Run, mum!”

The only choice was go back to the woods, back to the swamp. The harpies would be on their tail, but they would have the cover of the trees, at least.

Jane ran. Eleanor ran at her side.

Jane felt her heart pumping hard, lungs filling with air. She tried to remember what she had read about harpies.

Harpies were contested in classification, she remembered. Some argued that they should be classified as beings instead of creatures, since they were capable of speech, but then others argued that their speech patterns were very rudimentary and seemed to be more mimicry than anything. Those who argued against their being classification also tended to be the sorts of people who called mermaids animals, so Jane did not know what she agreed with, only she’d never seen a harpy up close and wow they had beautiful wings and—

Harpies were a matriarchal creature, female dominated flocks. Males were rare, bullied into submission, used only for breeding, for child-rearing.

Harpies laid one egg at a time, usually, though sometimes there would be two. They were social creatures, with a hierarchy with an alpha female.

Harpies lived on rocky cliffs, there were colonies in Northern Scotland.

Harpies fed on fish and small mammals.

They would not eat her.

Harpies liked shiny things.

They liked—

Jane stopped in her tracks and ripped off the necklace she was wearing, holding it up in the air. Eleanor slowed her pace and whirled around.

“Jane—“

“Trust me, Mum.”

The harpies burst through the foliage, talons outstretched, wings beating against the trees.

“Do you want this?” said Jane, voice steady.

The red harpy shrieked and dove towards Jane, but she pulled her arm away (the harpy still scratched the side of her arm, she felt it tear open and bleed, the pain hitting her a second later).

Jane winced.

“I’ll give you this,” she said. “And the rest of my bracelets and necklaces.”

She shimmied a bracelet off her upper arm, wincing as it passed over the wound, and tossed it to the red harpy.

“Yes! Shiny!” screeched the harpy, diving towards it.

The pale and dark ones seemed more hesitant. Jane noticed the dark one flick her eyes towards Eleanor’s outstretched sword.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” said Jane, slowly. “My mum does not either.”

“Humans lie,” spat the dark-haired one. “They run from Fate. We chase back. We do our job.”

“Well, we need you to take us back, you see,” said Jane, keeping her eyes on the pale one, who seemed to be the leader. She was bigger in size than the others.

Eleanor lowered her sword; she was catching on.

“Everything is mixed up, you see,” said Jane. “My mum is supposed to be in Asphodel. But she got lost. And I’m supposed to be in…over the wall. We need to go back. You can help us get back. I’ll give you the shiny jewelry; and you’ll be doing your jobs.”

The pale harpy raised an eyebrow, then turned to the dark one, chattering in some bird talk. They dark one squawked to the red one and she snatched up the bracelet and flew up to her friends, and they started conferring.

“Jane,” whispered Eleanor, reaching for her daughter’s shoulder. Jane looked back, touching her mum’s hand.

“I love you, Mum.”

“I love you, my Janey. I am so proud.”

Jane bit her lip.

“Is it going to be hard?”

Eleanor linked her fingers through Jane’s.

“You will be brave. Let people in, Lady Jane. They will be there for you.”

“We take you,” said the pale one, interrupting Eleanor. She swooped down, as did her friends, landing on the forest floor. “I take girl to City. They take mother to Fields. You give us shiny.”

“Yes, of course,” said Jane, and she took off all her jewelry and dumped it in front of the birds.

The red head one cawed excitedly, taking some of the bracelets in her talons. Jane took this moment to rip a piece of fabric from her skirt, Eleanor crept near her and took it, tying it around the wound on Jane’s arm. The dark one looked up at Eleanor.

“Get on back,” she said.

And with one last squeeze of Jane’s hand, Eleanor swung a leg over the dark harpy, as the red one scooped up all the jewelry and they flew off.

“Goodbye, my Janey,” called Eleanor.

Jane turned towards the pale harpy, who stared at her with icy grey eyes.

“I know you lie,” she said. “I smell life.”

“Please,” said Jane. “I need to go there.”

“You seek the City,” she said. “Why?”

“The man I love is there,” said Jane. “I need to find him.”

They stared at each other, the harpy and the human, and finally, the harpy dipped her head.

The boy had been waiting for them the moment they all finished their tread through the snow filled path. 

It had been a cold tread, but then again this whole journey had begun cold. It was the kind of cold that soaked right through Minnie’s bones leaving her shivering and pulling her arms into a tight hug to conserve some inkling of heat. They had all made it through the winding path and that was where Minnie witnessed Raksha seeing her son for the first time since his death. 

They were all in a meadow of sorts, each woman taking in the scene that laid before them. It was similar to the entrance except these trees had more life to them. The branches were filled with leaves that didn’t cast haunting shadows, and actually swayed with a soft guided gentleness to them. The skies weren’t dark, but light a sheer and pale almost periwinkle blue. The leaves that grew from the branches were the same color. There was a river that coursed through the very center of the meadows it’s currents strong, ethereal, but peaceful.

The place… it was beautiful. Homes of all different shapes and structures filled themselves along the line of the river banks and the trees grew fruits far more plentiful than any tree Minnie has seen before, rich in color bright and tempting to the human eye.

The redheaded woman had told the group that they have now entered the Asphodel Meadows, well according to her dead friend anyways. It was there where Raksha’s son’s soul rested. He was such a precious looking kid. Short in height, with gorgeous waves of unruly dark hair and dark brown eyes. 

His eyes reminded Minnie of Dodger’s eyes, so dark with depths that one could easily melt in. That was what Minnie wanted more than anything right now, to get lost in Dodger’s eyes while he held her so close to him so that she could hear the strong beating of his heart. His heart beat always washed everything away, and it could do that now for her, wash away all she had seen and all that has yet to even come. That was what she thought of as she watched the kid lead Raksha to the home he resided in now. Raksha had shed tears of joy to be reunited with her son and as it seemed, with other loved ones as well who were now watching over her son for Raksha. 

It was then when all three ladies knew that this was where Raksha’s journey ended, here with her son and loved ones. Raksha would not be joining them any further. In a way…. Minnie envied that. Her own journey was far from ending and she didn’t know if such happiness was what awaited her. She had no way of knowing how Sweet, Tibbs, or Dodger were fairing… she didn’t even know if Dodger was still alive. 

But Minnie…. she had to hold on to hope. She had to believe that they were all okay… that they were all alive... somewhere out there… wherever this hell prison may be. They all bid their fair wells to Raksha and for as much as Minnie secretly envied her ending, she was glad for the woman. What Minnie had witnessed back in the paths… it had been horrifying. Yes, she was unaware of what Raksha had been going through or exactly what had happened for that matter, but whatever it was that the woman had seen it was enough to bring her down to her knees and scream piercing cries of pure grief.

It was something… something Minnie herself would never want to go through. 

The rest of the three continued to move on reaching the end of the meadow only to find themselves in front of a door. Well…. that was certainly something rather sorty, even for the Underworld. Nevertheless, they all opened the door stepping into a room that was very dimly lighted, practically scarce of light. The door behind them immediately closed shut and now all three women were facing a….. scale? It was encrusted in pure gold standing right in the center of the room both scales evenly in balance with nothing currently above their golden plates. 

“We are now in the Doors of Judgement.” Sally once again broke the silence letting the girls know of their current surroundings. Violet had crossed her arms over her chest, her brow quirking.

“Let me guess…. your dead friend, huh?” She drawled in her normal sarcastic drip.

“Yes and that dead friend has informed me that the scale weighs our deeds. A gold coin for every good deed and a stone for every bad one. We each must be judged by the scale in order to be allowed to pass through.” 

Minnie’s eyes fell over the scale. Okay… that didn’t sound so horrible, right? For everything that they have yet to face…. at least this one… well this one didn’t seem so bad. She can go first. There truly wasn’t much she had to hide. “Alright. I-I wouldn’t mind going first….”

She was about to take a step forward to begin the process when Sally abruptly stuck her arm out blocking the brunette’s attempt. “No.” She spoke sternly. “You need to go last. The door opens with you, not with Violet, or myself. Welcome to your part of the journey, Minnie.”

Minnie was left in shock without so much as words being able to slip from her mouth because no sooner had Sally finished speaking then she pushed Violet forward and therein began the judgement. One could tell that Violet was furious for having been pushed forward without her approval, but that sentiment had slowly faded away when the sound of coins dropping onto the scale echoed loudly against the small enclosed area. Soon came the stones although Violet truly didn't have that many and before they knew it, the scale had easily balanced itself.

Violet had taken a step forward, walking over to the other end of the room as Sally, taking purposeful care to deliberately step in front of Minnie, proceeded next. The motions repeated itself as the scale had rebalanced and now coins were dripping like rain drops onto the golden plates, but Sally had more stones than Violet. As it seemed, however, her good deeds won in the end and the scale was able to become perfectly balanced. She proceeded in moving walking to take her place besides Violet.

It was Minnie’s turn now, but somehow, she didn’t want to move. The doors opened with her? But… why wouldn’t it open for Sally, or for Violet? Both had managed to balance the scale… why would the door then only open for her? Minnie didn’t know what would be in store for her and that… it scared her, but behind the other door somewhere deeper in the Underworld that’s where Dodger was and if she was going to find him and have any chance at being with him again—

Minnie stepped forward.

At first, there was only silence and then the coins began to drop just as it had for Violet and Sally. There were many trickling down in a steady stream clattering and clanging against the gold plate. Minnie’s chest grew light. Good… this was good. Those were all her good deeds. Then a stone dropped and for as many good deeds that piled up on the right-hand side of the scale that one stone kilted the scale completely over to it’s side. Nothing had taken place after the stone had dropped and Minnie she stood quiet looking over at the scale confused. What was she to do now? She didn’t get it….. the scale… it-it had to be wrong. What could she had possibly done so bad that it could out weigh every single good deed?! She scoured through her mind desperately trying to find the answer, but it was to no avail.

It was then when a voice entered the room, one that made Minnie turn in an instant, the blood in her veins freezing over.

Pequeña?

In front of Minnie now stood a beautiful older woman with a stature much like Minnie herself.

"Ma-mami?!" The words came out in a choke, her eyes rimming with tears that were on the verge of sliding down her cheeks. She hardly realized when they had begun to form, but in that moment she didn't care. She ran into her mother wrapping her arms around her to embrace her in a tender hug filled with an aching longing. Melanie wrapped her arms around her daughter one of her hands softly pressing over long brown locks.

What did you do mama that was so bad? Melanie lovingly teased as Minnie looked up at her shaking her head.

"I don't- I don't know."

We have to figure that out if you're going to move forward to find that rock star of yours, si? I like him. Minnie blushed. Melanie laughed. You have grown so much mi cielo... I don't know if I can even call you my pequeña anymore."

The tears were now flooding down Minnie's eyes, but she laughed, a soft sound of happiness that filled the room with the sudden joy that swirled around her. Another stone dropped then the dense sound alerting Minnie back to the present scale at hand. She was going to turn to position herself back in front of the scale, but something rather odd kept her from doing so. The line of her spinal column suddenly felt.... moist. Something was dripping down against her robes and sliding down her skin. It felt heavy as if whatever touched her was some sort of thick liquid. 

Minnie turned around to see what it could’ve possibly been when she caught sight of one of her mother’s arms that had been previously hugging her.  It now bore a large grotesque wound open and deep, deep enough to see vessels and tissues. It bled, the red liquid oozing down the woman’s palm and fingertips, drops dripping one by one onto the ground. 

Another stone fell. It followed the loud, ear-splitting sound of a crack. It was the sound of bone penetrating through tissue, muscles and flesh. It was her mother’s thigh the bone had punctured right through skin protruding outward. Melanie screamed a cry of pure gut-wrenching pain that rang like laser-sharp edges stabbing Minnie’s head. Her mother dropped to the ground and behind her Minnie could now hear a continous flow of small stones falling.

For each stone that fell, a new cut marred the skin of Melanie’s face. Minnie dropped to her knees, with shaking hands she had ripped a portion of her robe wrapping it around the open wound on her mother’s arms through steady streams of tears. She-she had to... pressure... to stop the bleed—

The bone. Minnie had to splint that thigh but she- she had nothing with her! Melanie was writhing in pain her screams still echoing sharply within the room. She was moving too much—her screaming was too loud! Minnie... she couldn’t take her screaming. It burned, tore at her heart and making it feel as if the organ was shredding into pieces. She-she c-couldn’t stop her mother’s pain. She couldn’t think! Not against the piercing shrills. 

“M-ma-mi y-you have to—you have to s-stop moving. Mami, mami please. You-you have to stay still. I-I know it hurts b-but you have to stay s-still.” Her words felt choked inside of her throat, Melanie’s eyes now filled with tears. 

Stop pequeña.

What had she said? Another stone dropped. 

This time Minnie saw a wound beginning to form over the center of her mother’s stomach. Another sharp cry bellowed in the room. It was bleeding, bleeding out like a stock pig. Minnie quickly crawled over to the wound, her knees scraping hard against the cemented ground and scraping skin. She immediately placed her hands over the bleeding applying pressure. It-it had to s-stop her mother was going to bleed out! The thick liquid kept running over Minnie’s hands. It felt so warm, thick... there was so much of it— heavy and red a crimson bright red. It flowed over her knees slid down to her legs and feet. It wasn’t lessening. Melanie kept bleeding.  

It’s okay to stop now, pequeña. I’ll be alright. Close your eyes for me, Minerva... Do that for mami, okay? Close... close those eyes and cover your ears....

Minnie’s eyes were thickened with ceaseless tears, her throat grew tighter and tighter, her chest so heavy. She knew those words. She was ten years old again hovered over her mother’s injured body on the day of the car accident... those were her mother’s last words to her...

“No! Mami, no! Not this time. I-I’m not going to stop. Y-you aren’t going to die on me again I-I can’t let you—”

Die. Because Minnie had when she was ten, when she was that little girl hovered over her mother’s dying body. She had listened to her mom. She had closed her eyes and covered her ears. She allowed her mother to die. Minnie had killed her mother. 

It’s okay to stop now, pequeña. I’ll be alright. Close your eyes for me, Minerva... Do that for mami, okay? Close... close those eyes and cover your ears....

Minnie kept the pressure even against the fading voice of her mother. The blood wasn’t ceasing. She looked at Melanie then, a deep seeded anger burning hot in her veins.

“How could you! How can you ask me that?! How-how can you ask me that now?! Ask me that when I was ten?! I was little! You knew that I knew no better! You let me—you made me stop! You made me leave you to die!” 

There was a stark silence then. No stones, no coins, no screams and no tears. Minnie’s eyes peered over the scale it hung in balance now. She let out a sob. She knew the deed, the deed that outweighed everything. It was that silent anger she bore her mother for making her stop... for letting her die. It was one she denied in existence, burying it so, so deep so that she would never have to see it’s ugliness and face it. Not until now. 

It’s okay to stop now, pequeña.

Minnie slowly nodded her head. She lightened the pressure, dropping her arms to her side, her body feeling so numb. She closed her eyes and she covered her ears. A door jarred open, but all Minnie could do was weep in silence, bend forward and cry onto her thighs. She heard footsteps moving through the door. Minnie didn’t move, she just wept. She felt a hand now, a soft touch falling over her back. She lifted her head. It was Melanie, the mother Minnie remembered before the tragic car accident coming into form through the dense blur of her vision. 

“I’m so sorry.” She choked in between a sharp sob that had raked through her chest.

Melanie only smiled warmly in return her fingers wiping away the tears that stained her daughter’s cheek. 

I know, mi cielo. I know, and I am so, so sorry too. I only wanted to protect you. There was nothing more you could have done that day that would’ve changed it all. You have to know that, sweetie, there was nothing. I was already far too injured... far too gone. I never wanted for you to see or hear my last breath. I never wanted to have that as your last memory of me, to have that as the one thing that will haunt you. Forgive me.... I wanted to protect you.  

She pulled her daughter into a strong embrace allowing her to sob in her arms. Melanie pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead, passing a gentle had threw her daughter’s hair. They remained as such for a while. One holding, the other sobbing, sobbing enough to wash it all away, to wash it away for the both of them. 

You have to go now, Minerva. It doesn’t end here for you. You can’t stay in my arms. You have to find him, remember? He is here and he’s alive. Her smile turned lighter as Melanie lifted Minnie’s chin to look at her daughter. I really like him for you. 

“I really like him too.” Melanie laughed softly, helping her daughter up from the ground and leading her to the door. I love you, pequeña.