Cerberus
Disclaimer: I don't own Cerberus nor any mythological creations.
Mist of death swirled and coaxed the slabs of inky rock almost seductively. It curled and combed through the earth and nudged the blades of grass sweetly, temptingly. It fanned out and embraced every single object in sight, holding it in a delicate grasp.
Slivers of heat clawed up from the cracks in the earth. The warmth expanded and died as it brushed with the cool air of eternity.
Amongst the battle of the elements, a line of eternal white lay stretched out, growing and expanding. The faceless bodies of what once was were now in a procession, awaiting their retribution. If they had fingers, they would have been twisted together, sweating from the intensity of judgment. Their faces would have been tear-streaked; mouth's gaping in the horror at the escalating amount of the eternally damned.
But, they had none of these things; they were simply stretches of fog, limbless and featureless.
The forms edged forward in a slow convoy, and to an outsider looking in, this was an example of the ultimate death march. Regardless of the undistinguished dead, moans and horror-filled noise escaped through what may have been pores on what could once have been considered flesh.
This was eternity, stretched out in a sea of endless abyss. The condemned spirits of the dead marched to their placement, an inky pool of fire and brimstone bathed in black. The Seven Gates of Hell welcomed them. It tempted them in the most maddening ways.
Few tried for escape here, even fewer maneuvered past the carefully guarded gates of the Realm of Hades. Not that there wasn't temptation, for the devil himself had promised redemption to the being that could meet a fleck of their persona to the Styx River. No one ever made it, ever. For guarding the route, a grand being slept.
Many boasted of the magnificent beast, his gigantic head and rows upon rows of razor-sharp teeth—times three. His mountainous paws with heavy talons dug graves of torment into the dungeons of Hell. The graying, rotting fur encasing him was putrid yet regal and his tail, a long deadly serpent, simply emitted the devouring of the sins of man. His name was indeed a name fitting of the gods, Cerberus.
It was rumored to say that the beast had so much as fifty heads or that if one were removed, three would re-grow in its place. However, humanity was too afraid to trespass in the realm of the dead to gamble with myths and magic. If Cerberus were such a beast, then he would devour them into nothing.
The canine's three heads symbolized exactly what he was, a beast of ongoing eternity. The first head always remained facing to the right, the second, forward, and the third, left. He was a beast of past, present and future. He greeted the specters with a toothy dog-like grin, simply stared at their sides and glared poisonously at their backs. If they ever thought of running, his fangs would grind them to a greedy halt, and he, as the guardian beast of the damned , would enjoy the malicious venom of their souls leaking down his throat, for that was his retribution.
~DOS
(Feel Free to RxR)