A/N: Hello readers! This is my current main project, which is deeply personal to me. I'm making it free and public for now for beta reading purposes, but in the future, I will be taking it down for publication purposes.

I remembered nothing.

As far as I knew, I was nothing, just a ghost of a voice on the wind once whispered. But that nothingness had the need to become something, clay in the hands of an artist. The Muses waited, then whispered their words to the artisan.

And so I was sculpted. From shadows formed skeletal, velvety wings, black hair, and the flowing robes that marked me a dead woman. My skin was as pale as the ghosts I saw around me. My mind was formed of the screams of women, both in the gallows of death and the sighs of pleasure. My hands grasped grey sand, the riverbanks of the Styx.

And with the strength of Death, I stood.

And I knew.

The center of the Underworld was perpetually night, and I liked it that way. Sure, the other psychopomps went to the surface world to retrieve the dead, but it was always too bright, too busy, full of too many people. Some of the people were fascinating, with theories of the universe I liked to listen in on while in my Cloak of Darkness, but for the most part, I kept to myself.

An eternal night gave the Underworld a strange glow, especially in the rivers. Before it was my shift to take souls, I liked to take walks and watch the water over some breakfast.

The Acheron was where I crossed to work, and I didn't want to be pulled into work duties off-duty, so I avoided it. The Styx was always busy and full of the chaotic dead, and it was nice to get a break from their screams, so I didn't linger there. Cocytus and Phlegethon were in Tartarus, and my kind were not torturers, so I didn't go there, either. It was Lethe I preferred.

The waters of Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness, were a milky white and thick, almost like syrup. It had a smell of distant memories, something akin to my childhood desserts, and the whispers of my mother within it.

Lethe worked in strange ways. The Shades from the Asphodel Fields, the neutral dead, would wander from their place and visit the banks to take drinks from it to forget their former lives. It would seem sad to outsiders, but to me, it was peaceful, a sign of a new beginning. Once they had been purified and forgotten themselves, they reentered the reincarnation cycle, ready to join the mortal coil.

But if a non-mortal soul were to drink from it...all purpose would be lost.

I would starve to death, not knowing what it was I hungered for. I would be lost in the Underworld, no longer a harbinger of death, disappointing Hades, the Lord of the Dead who kept me safe, and his lovely wife, Persephone.

But hearing my mother's voice was nice, even if I did nothing about it.

"You know better, Souidas," a voice said behind me.

I set down my tiganite and searched for the speaker, wings lifted defensively.

It was only Hekate, the Goddess of Witchcraft.

She patrolled all parts of the Underworld, keeping everyone in line-especially some of the more unruly psychopomps, like Hermes. Because of this, it wasn't necessarily surprising to see her, but I was so distracted that she made my heart race upon approach.

I bowed my head. "Lady Hekate. What can I do for you today?"

She waved me off with her free hand, the other clutching her staff. I knew it was for magical purposes, or providing light to lost souls, but Hermes swore she beat people with it sometimes, just a quick thwap over the head to petulant psychopomps.

I was fairly certain that the only person she had ever done that to was Hermes himself.

"I'm just doing my rounds. Why are you always here?"

I shrugged and went back to my breakfast, dipping the tiganite in some honey. "It's quiet. I like to read here." I lifted my current book, a philosophy writing I snagged from mortals on my last visit to the surface.

She studied the cover. "You enjoy mortal philosophy?"

"I enjoy mortal writing in general. They're quite creative, especially with their theories on us."

A rare, tiny smile played on her face, highlighting the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. Most immortals stopped aging at the peak of their power; Hades in his early-thirties, Persephone in her mid-twenties, and Hermes in his early-twenties, but Hekate was different. She was what the other immortals referred to as a "triple goddess," simultaneously the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. She could change her age to be one of the three at will, and at this point, she chose Crone. She was stooped, leaning most of her weight on her staff, the hood of her cloak concealing her hair and part of her wrinkled face. A few strands of white hair fell out of what I assumed was her updo.

"There is merit in that. It is the makings of a good witch to take in all theories, all information they can, and use it to fuel their magic."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'd be a good witch?"

"You'd be a great witch, Souidas. But to do that, you need to avoid Lethe."

"I'd never drink Lethe," I said. "But when I'm here...I can hear my mother."

Her breath caught. "Nyx?"

It was that moment where I realized that Hekate and I came from the same place: the Night Herself.

"Yes. I don't remember her as well as I could. Is that why I hear her in Lethe?"

Hekate shook her head. "Yes and no. Nyx lives within all of us in the Underworld, within everything living. She is what gives this place breath. If you listen, you can hear our Dark Mother anywhere, especially in the Asphodel Fields." She gestured down the dirt path of the riverbank, toward the Fields themselves. "The owner of Lethe, too, is a son of Nyx and Erebus, like us."

I watched the waters of Lethe pour from its waterfall. A Shade dipped her hands in, the milky white contrasting with her greying skin.

"Hypnos?" I had never talked to the God of Sleep, but I had heard of him in passing.

"Indeed. He is the one who created Lethe herself."

Every body of water had its soul, a nymph that lived within it, and Lethe was no exception. Lethe had never revealed herself, though. It was said that anyone who saw her would immediately forget her.

"When are you going to the surface today?" Hekate asked.

I took another bite from my tiganite. "In about an hour. Why?"

"I have a book for you."

I put my plate down and tucked my hands to keep them from flapping with excitement. "Is it the book you promised me?"

"Indeed." She held it out. "A codex I wrote for you to practice magic with."

Shaking, I took it from her, then immediately stumbled under its weight. When Hekate said she was writing me a book of magic to study, I figured it would be a small guide, but this seemed quite in depth. After all, I didn't expect an entire codex.

I opened it in my lap, feeling the wax casing on the outside. It was well sealed, though some of the ink on the parchment was still wet.

That was when I noticed that this was no straightforward at all, but written in an elder tongue the Titans spoke.

"How am I supposed to read it?"

She patted my head. "You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out."

"But do you have a ref-"

She had departed, only a wisp of smoke suggesting the goddess was ever there.

I sighed. The Goddess of Magic was often cryptic, and I didn't know why I expected this to be different.

I finished my breakfast, watching the smiling Shades leaving the riverbank, and tucked the codex into my cloak. It was best to take it home before my workday began.

I lived fairly close to Lethe in a small cottage off on a shared road with other psychopomps. They were all fairly identical on the outside-small homes with a courtyard in the center. The road was paved with stones, and lit with lanterns with small fire spirits living within them. At the far end of the road was a well, shared by all who lived here.

Some of the wealthier entities in the Underworld had several floors to their homes, but mine was only one, not including the roof, of course. There was a kitchen and a bedroom, but most of the home was dedicated to books, enclosed in wax like this codex, or rolled into scrolls.

I rearranged some of the books on the shelves to make room for the codex, scanning the shelves for anything that could be useful in deciphering it.

Something tapped on my window, and I turned.

I recognized the shape of the man anywhere. I opened the shutters. "Hermes!"

"Hello, sister!" he said, although I wasn't his sister at all. He said once he saw all psychopomps as one extended family, for he didn't want to have much to do with his father. I was too flattered to argue.

"Are you working tonight?" I asked. Sometimes, we flew together to our designated starting place, wherever Hades and his underlings required.

"I wasn't supposed to, but..." Normally, he's smiling, sunnier than the grin of the Sun God himself. But his face is solemn. "You've been summoned to Hades' court with me. There's been an incident."

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