Zeke lifted his eyes to the cave ceiling above him. He could barely keep them open. The black speleothems seemed to grow larger and larger toward him, threatening to impale him with their menacingly sharp ends. The noise of the battle drew on; swords clashing, people sobbing, monsters roaring. The Underworld was usually filled with the screams of those being tortured. This was much worse.

Fire licked the ground around him. He wanted so badly to get back up, grab his sword, and return to the fight. But the spear that had torn through his abdomen mere minutes before held him firmly to the ground. His fingers itched for the brilliant ruby-encrusted blade that sat just out of his reach.

He caught sight of a tall figure in the distance. They stood absolutely still, impervious to the battle around them. A shredded piece of fabric hung over their frail body like a cloak. A set of leathery wings sat tucked against their back, the color of slimy oil that reflected the firelight like liquid. Unlike the other gods, this one did not glow, nor were they an otherworldly kind of handsome. Their pale face was taut with the pain of each soul they collected.

Zeke saw their face and, deep down, a part of his soul recognized the being and what his presence meant. It was almost time for him to go.

He drew in a wet breath. He wasn't going to leave without seeing Alex.

"Zeke!" Someone screamed. The sound of their feet crunching on the hard ground as they rushed to his side brought a sense of hope. They fell to their knees and choked out a sob at the sight of his injury.

Zeke's tear-filled blue eyes met the other boy's brown eyes, dark with hatred and sorrow. His wiry hair sat in an untamed mass atop his head. Worry etched his face, which was covered in bruises, blood, and dirt from the battle.

"Alex," he whispered.

Zeke no longer felt white-hot pain coursing through his veins. Instead, he just felt cold.

Alex stared in wide-eyed horror at the spear impaling his satyr. Zeke's fluffy blond legs were stained brown with his own blood. The white t-shirt he'd borrowed from Alex before the battle was shredded and beyond recognition.

"You're going to get through this," Alex said. His hands hovered over Zeke's injury, unsure of where to put them or what to do. "We're going to get through this together. Like we always have."

Zeke shook his head. His time was drawing near.

"I need-" he cut off to take a breath. "-you to do me a favor."

Alex squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, tears fell down his cheeks, leaving streaks through the caked-on grime.

"Anything."

Zeke slowly raised his arm to his head. The movement was just enough for the spear to shift, sending ripples of pain through his body. He cried out, which made Alex wince.

Desperate to complete his task, he pulled out a gold coin stashed between his half-grown horns and handed it to Alex. "I owe this to Hades."

Alex turned the bloody coin over in his fingers. Memories flooded his mind from the last time he'd seen his satyr, protector, and best friend.

"I won't let you down," were the last words Zeke heard before Thanatos came to collect him.

X

The day started off as it always did in St. Bayard's Home for Orphan Children.

Alex spent the night plagued by nightmares of a man dying. This time, however, he watched the scene unfold from the man's point of view.

"No, please. I don't want to go. Please!" A man's cries were lost in a sea of darkness. He struggled to keep himself from being enveloped completely, but the energy was draining from his body. His life flashed before his eyes. Starting with his first memory as a toddler to him graduating college and starting a family, right up until the bullet ripped through his midsection, he saw the consequence of every choice he made as it led to this moment. "Please," he whispered once more with his final breath.

Alex flung himself awake and cringed as his head collided with the bed frame above him. The metallic clang echoed through the nearly empty room. The bed above him creaked as its occupant shuffled, but otherwise, they showed no signs of waking up.

He let out a breath and scanned the room. Across the floor sat another rickety bunk bed, housing two children around his age. Their names were Randall and Brielle, a pair of siblings that showed up a few months prior. Their fiery red hair and round freckled faces were in stark contrast to their demure personalities. Typically, younger children would come out of their shells faster than older children, but these two were an exception.

To the left of the room sat a barred window. It wasn't blocked to prevent the children from escaping, but to protect them from those who wanted to sneak in. A thin sheet covered it to try and keep out the cold winter air. That helped some, but the orphanage remained at the mercy of the elements.

Alex brought his fingers to his temple and rubbed where a knot was forming. Without looking at it, he knew it would be ugly and red. The sisters that ran the orphanage would fuss over it like they had every other bump, bruise, and booboo he got during his lifetime there.

The sisters weren't actual sisters. They were three older nuns who started the orphanage using the name of a priest from their home church. St. Bayard's Home for Orphan Children was the official title. It was a mouthful to repeat, so Alex usually kept it at St. Bayard's.

Not that he had repeated it to many people over the years. The orphanage was too far removed from any nearby school district, and the sisters barely had enough funds to keep the children fed and clothed, so they did their own schooling.

Math was very much not his strong suit. His brain refused to comprehend how arbitrary numbers made up by man led to other arbitrary numbers. Sure, he could do simple addition and subtraction but failed when it came to anything past that. He couldn't read very well, either. Anytime he tried, the letters would dance around the page like they were at a ball, dressed in resplendent gowns and sipping the finest wines.

Okay, so he was able to retain information if the sisters said it aloud to him. Unfortunately, he had no control over when that happened, so he gave up trying to fight that part of him.

There was a distinct lack of available space within the run-down shack they called home. The sisters were generous with taking in the young, hungry, and homeless. Out of the five bedrooms available, three downstairs and two upstairs, each housed up to four kids. There was a singular bathroom on the top floor that they shared. There was a tub for the kids under seven, and a standing shower for everyone else. To provide them with clean water, the sisters relied on candlelight to see. It wasn't unusual for the smaller children to share the bath, or for the older children to shower in cold water.

The dark never bothered Alex. He could see through it better than anyone at the orphanage. He chalked it up to having lived there his whole life, so he had no other choice but to get good at it. Even with all the candles off and the curtains drawn, he could pick out the smallest grape underneath a far-away table. He was wickedly fast, too, and outran all the other kids when they played tag outside.

Alex didn't run very often, though. His best friend, Zeke, needed crutches to get around, and it didn't feel right to show off in front of him.

Zeke came to St. Bayard's when Alex was six years old. The first moment he walked through the front door, with the sun shining behind him and outlining his golden hair like a halo of curls, Alex knew that they would be friends for the rest of their lives. When he looked into the boy's eyes, blue as the sky and filled with wonder and excitement, he finally felt at home.

The boys contrasted starkly in their appearance. Zeke's bright features were opposed by Alex's dark curly hair and deep brown eyes. While Zeke's face was pointed, with higher cheekbones and a sharper jaw, Alex's was set squarely and rounded by a layer of baby fat.

They requested to be placed as roommates immediately. Strangely, Zeke insisted that he take the top bunk. He refused to hear any argument from Alex, who gave up asking after a few years. He'd finally grown used to the sound of Zeke's crutches clanking against the bed frame as he clambered down each morning.

Bath time was the only time the boys spent apart. Zeke felt too much shame about his impediment to give Alex even a glimpse of his legs. Alex didn't push the subject, but his curiosity never waned.

When the children got restless from being cooped up in the orphanage for too long, the sisters would take them on a trip to a nearby park that doubled as a playground. Alex found that he loved the feeling of the grass underneath his bare feet. He would play tag, chase, or other running games with the other children until they were all completely wiped. By then, he'd hardly broken a sweat.

Zeke's first move was to lay claim to a shady spot beneath a large oak tree. Alex declined multiple invitations to play tag. Instead, he sat with Zeke beneath the tree and continued doing so for the next six years.

Alex could vividly recall the smell of the freshly cut grass, the sound of the leaves as they rustled in the wind, and the groaning of the old wooden branches when they swayed. While Zeke read, Alex took in every sight, smell, and sound that he could. He wanted these memories burned into his mind, just in case he and his friend ever got separated.

On that first trip with Zeke by his side, Alex caught sight of one of the sisters chatting with a well-dressed man near the tree line that ran along the park's backside. His light grey suit and shiny black shoes felt out of place for a playground. His dark hair was slicked back in a way that Alex could only dream his own hair could do. Though his face was hidden, Alex felt a prickle of recognition toward the man.

The stranger towered over Sister Minnie, his broad shoulders, and long legs in stark contrast to her tiny frame. Alex watched them intently if only to satisfy his urge to ensure that she was safe. He could have sworn that he saw the shadows of the trees growing closer to the man like they wanted to swallow him whole.

He handed something to Sister Minnie, who quickly shoved it in her pocket. Redness crept up her neck, around her soft jawline, and to her round face. She did a quick scan of their surroundings and stopped on Alex, who watched so intently that a jolt of fear ran through him when they made eye contact.

The man turned, and Alex saw that he wasn't a man after all. He was still a teenager, probably no older than eighteen. He gave Alex a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Within seconds, the trees' shadows overtook him, and the man disappeared completely.

Alex couldn't believe his eyes. No one else reacted to the spectacle, not even Sister Minnie. He looked over at Zeke to prod him about it, but the other boy was asleep.

Ever since that day six years ago, Alex traveled back to the park with hopes of catching the man hiding within the depths of the trees. He didn't have permission to leave the orphanage until he turned thirteen. However, Alex found that he was more than capable of traveling below the sisters' radars. The bathroom window on the second floor remained unbarred. It opened next to a young pine tree that provided just enough stability for Alex to climb down. Given that spring was just around the corner, he'd soon have to deal with being covered in sticky sap that glued the pine needles to his skin.

As he sat on his bed in the darkness of night, a part of him knew that he wouldn't be going back to sleep. That was how he found himself creeping out of the window and stalking down the road through the chilly late-winter air.