138 B.C.
"NO. I will not have it!" The woman declared, sweeping the thick, long braids from in front of her face. She was livid—filled with a fire one only sees when an active volcano has begun to erupt. Her frame shook like a stalk of barley in a slight breeze, but in every other way she was immovable. This was Demeter, the goddess of the harvest. Her skin was dark—not unlike the rich soil lining the banks of the Nile River, which feeds every other river in Africa. Her hair flowed in heavy braids from her scalp to her hips, and they undulated at her every movement, like a plain of wheat the day before a tornado rips through and uproots everything.
"Sister, see reason. A battle between you and Hades would see the world destroyed. He loves her. Why can't you let him have her?" Zeus questioned, only half interested. Zeus sauntered from where he stood and took his place at the largest throne in the room. Zeus, the King of Gods and ruler of the sky, was no match for his fuming sister. His golden hair and off-hand way of interacting with everyone made him seem like more of an ass than they knew him to be.
"Our daughter has no place in the Underworld. I would sacrifice every mortal life on the planet to protect her soul from the darkness residing in Hades domain. He must not wed her." Demeter dictated, no ounce of humor or humility in her tone. Zeus eyed her warily.
"What's this about souls? We have none, I assure you Demeter. There is no darkness in Hades that does not already dwell in the world of the living. Hades will do as he pleases, as always." He intoned, a hint of exasperation coloring his words. Zeus' cavalier attitude towards the fate of their daughter did nothing to pacify Demeter—in fact, she was steadily reaching a point from which she would be unable to return.
"Mark my words brother, for they are far from idle. Harvest will not come again until I have my daughter returned to me. Farmers will toil in their fields all day but yield no crop. There will be no morsel of grain or meat to offer in the fire. And when the season of ice and frost descends upon the Earth, it will be the worst any mortal has ever known. The ground will freeze and famine will begin to consume. Mothers and babes will freeze in their beds, and I shall think them lucky to never know the pain of having a children ripped from their world." Demeter spoke with such vicious intent and spiteful determination that Zeus was tempted to smite her where she stood. He refrained.
"Do as you wish Demeter. I can no more make Hades give Persephone back then I can stop you from doing as you say. Away with you. I'll have no more of this miserable discussion." He said, shooing her away. This was a mistake on Zeus' part, for Demeter was not known to make empty threats. She cast him a withering glace, swept up her floor-length dress, and disappeared.
Present
"Class, please welcome our new student, Charlie Parker." Alaric announced. The new kid stood at the entrance to the classroom, almost as if he was still considering coming in. Everyone gave half-hearted hellos and then went back to their previous conversations. However, there was something about him that held Bonnie's attention. For one, he seemed to her to be severely emaciated—his skin was stretched tight across his facial bones, which made him look like a sheathed skeleton. Compounding his scraggy appearance was his distinct—dirtiness. He looked like he'd fallen in several dumpsters. His gray eyes, which seemed without depth and utterly lifeless, sank into his face. Those haunted eyes scanned the classroom and landed on Bonnie. His face seemed to get even tighter.
"You can take a seat Charlie." Mr. Saltzman said, pointing to the empty chair next to Bonnie. Charlie gave a strange half-nod—like he wasn't sure that was the appropriate thing to do—and made his way to the seat. Alaric began his lecture about the Civil War and Bonnie tried to pay attention, but she couldn't. Her eyes felt like lead weights.
She'd been up every night that week until the wee hours of the morning doing research—and the results weren't that promising. Bonnie couldn't seem to remember the exact details of what happened in the clearing. Everyday the memory became less and less real, and more like a dream. A dream. That's what she'd told Amana when she woke up the next morning. It was just a dream, Nana. No more peanut butter so close to bedtime from now on. Bonnie was beginning to doubt herself. Maybe it wasn't what it seemed. Perhaps it wasn't magic. Perhaps Bonnie's lie to Amana hadn't been as much of a lie as she'd once thought.
Through the haze of her sleepy stupor Bonnie could feel the weight of someone's gaze on her. Covertly—without turning her head—she looked over to where the new kid was sitting. A chill ran through her midsection when she realized that his hollow stare was locked unerringly on her. Worse, he didn't look away upon being caught.
An hour later the bell rang and she collected her things to go meet with Caroline and Elena for lunch. She had the feeling that Charlie hadn't taken his eyes off her the entire class period, though she never looked back after the first time.
Since the gang always ate lunch outside, on one of the picnic tables, Bonnie had to buy her food and carry it outdoors. The struggle was opening the door to the courtyard without dropping her tray. With her tray balanced precariously on one hand she pushed the door open with the other, but a gust of wind burst through the doorframe and sent her reeling. A lot of things happened at once. Someone caught her tray, and someone caught her.
Bonnie could feel cold seeping through her clothes where her savior's hand held her. It was an unpleasant, unnatural cold and she moved quickly to free herself from its grasp. Turning around, she was greeted by Charlie—the new kid. He held her tray out in one hand, offering it to her. Bonnie took it, careful not to touch his skin.
"Thank you." She sighed. A part of her was reluctant to look Charlie in the face, for his countenance was so gaunt and unfriendly that any normal eye might find a natural aversion to it. However, she pushed through and met his unaffected stare. "Thanks Charlie." She repeated, but this time with a smile. Charlie's appearance, which before had been icy and indifferent, assumed an air of dutifulness. Acting so quickly that Bonnie was forced to take a step back—he bowed slightly, turned, and left. She tried not to look too much into that.
"You're late Ms. Bennett!' Caroline informed Bonnie as she approached their table. Caroline and Elena sat at their regular spot—the table beneath the oak tree, directly adjacent to the parking lot. The tree provided shade for the more sunny days, and their group was afforded plenty of privacy. "We were just talking about the Miss Mystic Fall Pageant application process." Caroline continued as Bonnie set her things down.
Elena nodded, turning to Bonnie with a smile. "Be glad your not applying, it's hell." She said, her tone much less enthusiastic than their blonde friend's. Bonnie murmured in agreement. She couldn't tell her friends how she really felt about the Miss Mystic Falls Pageant. She couldn't explain to them that it wasn't a choice for her not to apply, but rather a necessity if she was to spare herself pain and indignation. The Miss Mystic Falls Pageant was for the fabulous young ladies who happen to descend from the town's founders. The selection committee would never deign to elect Bonnie, regardless what extra-curriculars she was involved in or volunteer work she was doing. It was a prejudice, elitist, and classist display that the entire town reveled in. Bonnie would have no part in it, but she wouldn't spoil the fun for her friends.
"Who's that girl with Matt?" Caroline questioned. Elena and Bonnie followed her line of sight to find Matt approaching with an extremely beautiful girl hanging off of him. A girl with hair blacker than the Arctic Sea, skin like fresh snow, and a face so sharp it could cut ice. She had a firm grip on Matt's arm and was laughing like he'd just told the funniest joke ever. Elena turned back around. Bonnie could hear Caroline ask if she was going to be okay. Elena had only broken up with Matt about a month ago, and their group was just now regaining it's footing. Bonnie was still watching Matt and his girl approach when she noticed something odd. The girl walked weird. Bonnie worried she was being critical because of her friend, but no—the girl definitely walked weird. She walked with—not quite a limp—but some sort of hop or skip in each of her steps.
"Hey, guys. This is Emma." Matt stated simply, taking a seat next to Caroline. Bonnie gave a small wave but her smile was forced. She knew it wasn't reasonable to begrudge Matt having a girlfriend, considering Elena dumped him, but he'd been in love with Elena—they hadn't even heard the name Emma leave Matt's mouth before that moment. Who was she? Where did she come from? Why did he bring her? Bonnie thought.
"Good afternoon." Emma said. Her demure tone of voice was a shock to everyone, as was her slight accent. She spoke like a world-traveler who had been everywhere and picked up a piece of every culture. Though her voice was soft and supple, her features were anything but. Up close Bonnie could see the incredible harshness with which her features presented themselves. She looked like she'd been chiseled from stone.
"So!" Caroline began, attempting to break the table from the awkward silence that had descended suddenly. "Emma I've never seen you around school before. Did you just move here?" She asked kindly, sounding genuinely interested.
Emma took her time to reply, letting the question hang in the air until she was ready to respond. "Yes. My family is nomadic. We never stay anywhere for longer than a few months." While she was speaking her gaze shifted subtly to Elena, who wasn't fully engaged in the conversation but rather was attempting to dissect the food on her plate.
"So are your parents in the military or…?" Caroline inquired, obviously confused by Emma's use of the term nomadic. Emma shook her head, tossing her ebony curls around gently. Matt watched her with obvious rapture.
"I have no parents." She stated, neither sad nor indifferent. Elena finally looked up. Pity began to permeate the air.
"Oh. I'm sorry about that." Caroline said, her can-do attitude effectively drenched. Matt still seemed to be gazing at Emma with blind wonder, but Elena had put down her fork and now seemed to care about the conversation again.
"Yeah, I'm sorry about that too. My parents just passed away." She revealed, her voice filled with of sorrow and abject wonderment—like she still couldn't believe she had to admit something of that nature. Her need for camaraderie and understanding were palpable, but Emma could not fulfill those desires it seemed. She regarded Elena with cold disinterest, bordering on disdain, and gave no reply.
The rest of lunch took place under the guise of civility and innocent conversation. Caroline made no further efforts to involve Emma—in fact, Matt and Emma ended up having their own conversation entirely. Elena's mood fell into one of grief and desolation—she would not speak. Bonnie was just done with the whole day. Her lethargy had roared its fuzzy head and she wondered whether she should skip the rest of her classes.
When the bell rang signaling the end of lunch she made her decision—she would stick it out for the rest of the day.
Charon
This was a path Charon had traversed many times. There is never a shortage of souls needing to be carried across the River Styx, and as long as they have the proper payment, Charon is willing to take them.
He pressed his long oar into the murky water and began his journey into the underworld. On the shore he left the millions of souls who did not have payment, or were not given proper burials. The men and women and children who had died and never been buried could not earn passage onto Charon's boat. They would spend the rest of eternity waiting on that shore—denied an afterlife. No exceptions.
Charon paid little attention to the attractions he passed on his way. There was Sisyphus, who punishment entailed laboring to roll a giant stone up a hill, only to have it roll back down again and again until the end of time. In the distance, up ahead, he could see the three Erinyes—the female embodiments of vengeance that carry out punishments in the Underworld—circling a man tied to a wooden stake. They took turns whipping his flesh, breaking the raw, bloodied skin and then watching with pleasure as it grew back again.
Charon pulled his boat up to the bank of the river and motioned for the souls in the back to get out. The path that led up and away from the bank would take them to be judged. Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus—the three judges—would separate the wicked from the blessed, and send every soul down one of three paths. One path led to Elysium, and the Isle of the Blessed; the other led to Erebus, and the Fields of Punishment; the middle path led to the Fields of Asphodel.
One poor soul lost their footing getting off the boat and slipped into the waters of the river. Within seconds they were carried off, their screams drowned out by the hateful waters. Charon couldn't bring himself to care. He grabbed the paddle and pushed off from the bank, anxious to get to his destination.
When the River Styx merged with the River Acheron, Charon knew it was time to depart. He drew the boat up onto the shore of the river and stepped out. Gripping the hull of the boat, careful not to let the droplets of water clinging to the wood touch his skin, he drags it onto dry land. When he is finished he leaves on foot. Within minutes he is under the black shadow of his master's home—a castle composed wholly of obsidian that towers above any other structure in the Underworld. The trek to the front door is almost ten minutes.
He knocks and the door opens of it's own accord. He walks in and waits silently by the entrance, knowing his master is aware of his presence and will make himself known any moment. That he does.
Hades emerges from the darkness under the staircase, his helm placed squarely on his head. Hades' helm allows him to not only become darkness, but also travel through it. Wherever there is light, there is shadow and there is Hades, Charon thought. Charon bowed low, his spine curving like a bow.
Hades smiled. "Charlie, Charlie. How was your first day at school? How's my girl?"