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ㅤㅤㅤ꧁༺༒༻ 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 ༺༒༻꧂ ㅤㅤㅤ𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⠀⠀ ㅤ ㅤ♡ + ↺ ㅤ𝑩𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖑 𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒏𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖓𝖊𝖉 ㅤㅤㅤ꧁༺༒༻ 𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑 ༺༒༻꧂

me, they enter Hades and are ferried by Charon to their proper resting place. But I am curious. Is there something you seek in the Underworld? ❞

in, down to the first knuckle, he pulled. His body opened. But rather than blood and guts, there was a void and, within that, were myriad souls going deeper in. They appeared as small lights and, the deeper they got, the more they faded. Erebos closed himself. ❝ Through

❝ I do not guide. I am simply a pathway, akin to a door between two rooms that only the dead may pass through, ❞ Erebos explained, sensing the question on her lips. His fingers dug into his chest, his skin rippling like water as the digits sunk into him. Once they were

well as the simple, sleeping darkness that lives in every corner and crevice of the earth. But, I suppose that was too much of an explanation. Forgive me. ❞

own being. ❝ I am called Erebos, ❞ he said. ❝ A primordial embodying deep darkness and, in more ways than one, the things that lay within that darkness. If I had to say, my being is the darkness of the Underworld, the pathway through which souls pass into the Underworld, as

Erebos nodded. As always, he was an unknowable creature unless he gave his own name and title. It was not something he was unfamiliar with, but there was a certain irony to it since, if he so wished, he could recall the names of every living thing in existence by virtue of his

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ︎ㅤ︎ 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙖, ㅤㅤㅤ︎ㅤ︎/ˌsantəˈriːə/: In Colombia it's understood as the coexistence of multiple rituals (veneration of the Orishas & Catholic saints) & the different ways of relating to and dialoguing with the dead.

death that he would have recognized it regardless. ❝ Look at me, ❞ he commanded. ❝ Truly look. What is it you see? ❞

❝ Hm. . . ❞ Erebos did not stop staring. This woman was odd. If the scent of the dead that lingered upon her was of any consequence, then she was most certainly a necromantic witch. And, even if his senses had been dull for whatever reason, Erebos had such a connection to

through skin and skeleton and reading the innermost sanctums of her soul. But, no. Erebos did not pry unless necessary. His gaze was just naturally intense.

❝ It is uncommon for you to feel small, ❞ Erebos uttered. Not a question, a statement. ❝ Is that because you are a witch? ❞ His eyes, red rings in seas of pure black, were no longer looking at her clothing, but at her eyes. It was as though he was probing her, piercing

❝ Apologies, ❞ Erebos said. ❝ When everything is so small, it becomes second nature to move them about. Or. . .was it my hands that bothered you? ❞

Erebos listened. But, at the same time, he grabbed the woman by the waist, massive hands making her seem absolutely tiny, and picked her up. He set her gently on the ground and then made the platform sink back into the ground.

Erebos stopped suddenly. ❝ This is simply another way of displaying beauty. Tight clothing has not always been common, but I suppose it serves the function clothing always has; to appear attractive to oneself and others. ❞

Erebos did not mind paying her a compliment. However, as his question remained unanswered, he took it upon himself to create a platform beneath her feet that raised her to his height. He began pacing around her, studying her clothing with a stoic expression on his face.

❝ Yes. . . ❞

❝ It has, ❞ he said, pressing his mouth to the top of her head. ❝ You've appeared preoccupied and I did not wish to disturb. ❞