“Welcome to eternal darkness,” a disembodied voice said with just enough evil to make him the perfect spokesman for the Underworld.

It was his duty to bring them here. For a coin or two he became the ferryman. But in his mind he was so much more. They all underestimated him and treated him with disrespect for the lowly job he had to perform. What they didn’t realize was that he came from rulers and gods more powerful than even Zeus or Hades. He was the ultimate, and in time they would soon see that.

Using his staff to guide them through the dark, murky depths of the River Styx, he transported the dead—the spirits—who sought the Underworld. After he delivered them to the gateway, they were doomed never to walk the Earth again. They were forever vanquished to the depths of Hades. But not him. No, there was another destiny for him to fulfill.

His frail body was hunched over, with a thick black robe draped around him, standing in the middle of the small boat. For those brave enough and curious enough to look over the side of the boat, their fear was mirrored in the black waters below. Thick and covered in a layer of smoke, the River Styx was a waterway plagued by evil.

After dropping off his last passenger, he headed back up the river in the opposite direction. There, just beyond the caves of the Furies, he saw an underground burrow. Pulling his boat alongside the soil, he jumped out and hurried along a trail. It would never do to be seen walking along this path—the one that passed Persephone’s lair. Hades was jealous of Persephone, who targeted anyone going near her lair as fair game. He wasn’t afraid of the god, but wanted to avoid attention if he could.

Slipping through the shadows, he came to the entrance of the burrow and ducked inside. It was chilly, the walls an iridescent blue surrounded by darkness. His cloak was still around his shoulders and he wrapped it tighter around his frail body. His feet moved fast, anxious to finish this last deed, once and for all.

Out of the shadows, faster than light, the beast appeared, stopping him in his tracks.

“What do you have for me, ferryman?”

He hated the beast, hated the demeaning tone the creature used with him, the inflection that was just a hair above condescension. Well, this was the last time. The power he needed was within his reach. He wanted it so badly his fingers shook as he pulled the sack of coins from his cloak.

“It is done,” he said.

Yanking the pouch from his hands the creature looked at it. Dark shadowy hands opened it as saliva dripped from its sharp, protruding fangs. “It is enough,” it half spoke, half growled after counting the coins. “Go and seek your reward.”

He did not need to be told twice. Walking away from the beast as quickly as his feet could take him, he left the dank hovel behind him once and for all. Just as he neared the boat, the ground began to rumble, forming a crack between his legs so that he had to jump to one side to avoid being swallowed up. Just a few feet away was his boat, anchored in the river.

The river.

It bubbled and spewed steamy geysers. In certain parts, circles of fire began to burn along the surface. The indigo sky grew even darker, like a smoky pitch-black oven. The air was still and he struggled to breathe.

“You dare to disobey me!” a loud, piercing voice shouted. It was unlike any beast he’d ever heard.

“Goddess,” he whispered turning to look behind him but seeing nothing. Turning in all directions he searched for her in the mortal form, but failed to see her. She was here no doubt, but where?

She was Styx, the goddess of the powerful river. She was the nymph who had fought with Zeus in the battle of the Titans and the Olympians, and was thus rewarded with supernatural powers. She was here and she was definitely angry.

“Forgive me,” he said, instantly falling to his knees and bowing low.

“Not this time” was her response. “I have watched you for many moons, Charon. I have felt the slights and betrayals in your every move. This is the end. You shall be forever cursed by my hand.”

“No!” Charon cringed.

Her wrath was more than feared. Even the higher gods were afraid of her. Charon had known all along that this was a consequence, but he was smarter and better than any other creature on Olympus. He knew what he was doing and why he was doing it. This was his destiny. How dare she interfere!

The river calmed and Charon thought she had changed her mind. Why, he would never know, but he chanced to look up. Above, the sky remained dark. Then two huge orbs of light appeared. One a fiery yellow, the other an iridescent white—the sun and the moon. Suddenly, the two orbs connected, one fully covering the other until all was completely dark.

Charon felt himself soaring, but to where he had no idea. What he did know was that this was not over. No matter what she did, whatever his punishment, Styx would not have the last word.

She would not destroy his destiny.