Slowly the fog lifted and unveiled a boat coming across the river, towards the shore. An ancient figure sat by the oars; he was Charon, the ferryman. This wasn't an ordinary river, this was Styx; the gateway between worlds. And it had been busy because of the war.
When the boat hit the shore a man, a soldier who had died in the war, strong build with long blond hair, stepped into it, at the same time an old man, also dead in the war, stepped in too. They both gave their coins to the ferryman and he pushed the boat away from the shore.
For the longest time there was a deep silence then the younger man looked up at the older.
"King Priam." A mixture of shock and disbelief was written on his face and in his voice. "You… you died. That's a shame."
But the older man, King Priam of Troy, just looked back at him, and then he shook his head.
"No brave Achilleus. I was old; it was my time. The shame is the young men who died in this war."
For a while silence again filled the air.
"You know…" Achilleus said, breaking the silence once more. "Before I went here I talked to my mother. She knew I wouldn't return. But those others; they could've lived."
"Maybe not. How did it happen? How did you die?"
"Your son. Your other son. Prince Paris. He shot me. In the heel, the only place where the water of this very river did not wash over my body when I was an infant."
And the boat moved across the river without a sound.
"You see. It was destiny everything which happened. Right from the beginning. Right from Paris and Helen falling in love. The war. Your cousin's dead at Hector's hands caused you to take revenge and kill Hector. Hector's dead at your hands caused Paris to take revenge and kill you. There's no way it could have been stopped."
A slight smile showed on Achilleus' face.
"Maybe there was one way. I could've tied Patroclus up."
And the boat hit the other shore. The journey was over.