Of Death and Fire

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Author's notes: Many elements of Greek Mythology are included in this chapter, along with a bit of Egyptian details as well.
According to the ancient Greeks, five rivers that separate Hades from the world of the living:

Acheron - the river of woe;
Cocytus - the river of lamentation;
Pyriphlegethon -the river of fire;
Lethe - the river of forgetfulness;
Styx - the river of hate.

The begin cha chapter in italics is from an original story of mine, "Shades of Grey". It's also uploaded in both Ffnet and Fpnet, if you want to check it out.
OK, now, on with the story. And remember to leave a review!
 
 
CHAPTER 39: In all the empty places you must walk...
 
Everything is grey in the Land of the Dead.
The Lord of the Dead sometimes walks on the grey dusted pathways of the Underworld, making His way among the dead. Some are happy, some are tortured, all are blind and deaf, locked in their own minds' cages with only the memories of their past lives to ponder on. No sound, no color, not even a moonbeam breaks the Reign of Dust.
~*~
Morgaine opened her eyes and saw nothing but ashes and dust. Slowly, she stood up and inspected her body. She seemed to be corporeal enough, even for one who had just died. Her wounds had vanished and it felt as if she had maintained a level of her senses, such as hearing, smelling and vision. Not that there was anything to see...
She raised her eyes to check the surroundings. It was a barren land of grey grounds, reaching as far as her eyes could see. The wind was howling over the dry plains, but Morgaine knew it was more than the wind. It was the wailing lament of lost souls, the tortured spirits who refused to accept their passing and lingered on this wasteland instead of moving on, either to the Elysian Fields or in Hell.
To her right, she saw a small hill and moved to that direction. And although her physical form was left on the mortal realm, she felt a piercing pain in her chest. I have no heart, it has stopped. Why do I still hurt so much? But she knew the answer all too well. Death is never the end, neither of pain nor of suffering. It is just the beginning. But as she reached the top of the hill, the sight that unfolded before her eyes made her jaw drop in awe.
On the far distance she saw the five rivers that circle the Underworld. In the back, she saw the darkness of Styx and Cocytus. To her right there was Acheron, the river of woe and to her lehe she saw the still waters of Lethe. She played with the idea of submerging in the dark depths of oblivion, washing away her memories, but in the end she pushed back the thought. All she had left was the memories of a life lost. If pain through eternity were the price of remembering his dark eyes, she would gladly pay it.
Slowly, she walked toward the fifth river, Pyriphlegethon; the river of flame. And beyond the waves of fire she saw the Halls of the Dead, Death's sanctuary. Inside the ebony walls stood the Black Throne, along with the Halls of Judgement and the portals to Hell and the Elysian Fields. A narrow stone bridge crossed the burning river and she walked over it, feeling the flames kiss her dead body. It didn't burn; but again she could always walk through fire as if it was a summer rain.
Bracing her heart, she crossed the Ebony Gates. She would finally meet her Lord and Master.
~*~
The great hall was dark, illuminated by few candles. As she walked further in, her vision adjusted to the dim light and she saw the Black Throne in the back. It was just as she had pictured it in her mind during her Guild training. Moving closer, she saw the dark cloaked figure on the Throne and two more shadowed shapes beside him, one in each side. Morgaine knew them well. They were the Guardians, the escorts of Death; they were Pain and Fear. She had been told that somes Des Death chooses one of his servants' souls to aid him in that role. But it had never been clear whether this is a reward or a punishment. As the one of them, the one she believed to be Fear, advanced at her, she felt her knees tremble. Not as much from fear but mostly from anticipation.
The dark figure stood before her. Long, pale hands raised a blindfold to her eyes, as she had seen before in the Guild rituals. But she shook her head, denying the comfort of darkness. She was ready to meet her Master face to face.
"I am not afraid," she said steadily. "I will not need this."
The dark shape lowered the blindfold. To her surprise, she heard it laugh. And this was a very familiar sound.
"I would expect as much from you, my child," he said, throwing back the hood. Seeing his demon eyes staring back at her filled with love, she threw herself in his arms.
For a little while they stood embraced, each unable to speak from the excitement of their reunion. And then a voice was heard in the Hall, shuttering the dominating silence.
"Aurion, if the pleasantries are over, I'd like a word with her." It was the voice of Death. It reached inside her heart, burning her soul in its path. Deep, dark and demanding, the voice of the One who is timeless and has no limits on the mortal realm, perhaps even beyond.
Aurion took Morgaine's hand in his and guided her before the Black Throne. And there he released his grip and assumed his place beside his Master. She raised her eyes to face Him and her first thought was to scream. But somehow she held her ground.
Death was often depicted as a walking skeleton. This, although it bore a resemblance, was far from the truth. His face was this of a skull, but still held the dried skin upon it. Cracked and ashen, it covered the bone like a tattered parchment, with signs of decay around the corners of the mouth. Bright, ivory teeth shone through thin, almost ro lip lips forming an eternal grin. And His eyes... His eyes were feverish pits of flame, inhuman, merciless, darting fiery arrows in one's soul. He raised an almost fleshless hand and waved at her to approach. And when she moved closer, He brushed her cheek with sharp claw-like fingers.
"At last we meet, Child of the Dead Woman." His voice was lower now. "You have escaped my grasp too long. And now I can see why." He released her face and sat back on the throne, studying her with His blazing eyes. After a long silence, He spoke again.
"My other servant has something to say to you, if I'm not mistaken," He said and waved at Pain beside him. The figure stepped forward and revealed her face.
Morgaine saw a young woman. Her features seemed vaguely familiar, but she could not recall knowing her. And then the woman took both of Morgaine's hands into hers, raised them to her lips and kissed them.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"I do not remember you," said Morgaine really puzzled. The woman smiled.
"You saw me through a dream," she replied gently. "Many years ago, I was the sacrificial offering for Voldemort's amusement. You stepped inside my body that night, sparing me the torture of my last minutes, taking upon you the pain and suffering of rape ant torture. Although it was done unwillingly, this is a debt I can never repay. I do not know how you crossed the limits of time and the boundaries of flesh, but I will be forever grateful you did." She released Morgaine's hands and stepped back beside her Master.
The Lord of the Dead had never taken His eyes off her. He seemed to be deep in His thoughts, as if He was trying to reach a decision.
"And now that I have you, what shall I do with you?" When He spoke again, it seemed to her that He almost sounded amused. "I suppose there's no need to tell you that both my servants have greatly objected to your passing." Now Morgaine was certain he was amused.
"I will do as my Lord commands," she finalanaganaged to utter.
"Really? And when did this incredible change of heart occur? You have never been obedient in your life and I don't expect you to act as such in your death." Yes, Death was certainly amused. He crossed his fingers on His chest. "You promised 'anything', if I remember correctly," He finally said.
"You have my life. What more can I give you?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"I want your child," He said after a moment of silence.
"My child is dead as am I," she whispered, trying to hold back her tears. "It is already yours."
"Your child is not dead," He replied. "You have no idea of what you have done, my daughter," He said and His voice was almost kind now.
Morgaine frowned.
"How can this be?"
It was Aurion's voice who answered her question.
"You should have never used that potion while carrying a child. During your out-of-body transition to the past, your child was trapped inside a loop of time and space. To protect himself from the same torture you endured, he hid inside a safe place between worlds. He probably has several of your magic abilities, greatly enhanced by the substance you so foolishly drunk. And now he's trapped there. Should he leave his arcane womb, he will die." When Aurion finished his tale, Morgaine felt ready to collapse. Somehow the still waters of Lethe became more appealing by the minute.
"Why my son?' she finally said, her voice trembling by now.
"He already stands beyond my grasp, between the limits of time. I cannot allow this. He must return to the mortal realm, die and be reborn in my hands." He remained silent for a moment. "I want him to be born before my throne and become my dark angel; the Angel of Death, my Hand and Scythe."
Morgaine fell to her knees, feeling pain running in her dead veins like live, burning blood.
"And if I refuse?" she whispered, still not ready to give in.
With an angry, impatient growl, Death made a harsh gesture with His fleshless hand and a window was opened between the plains.
~*~
She saw the place of her death. A cold, pale body was lying on the moist earth, a body she recognised as her own. Her head was resting in the arms of the man she had loved more than life. And the pain increased in new heights when she saw his face. Dark, tortured beyond words. He was not crying; she knew Severus would never cry. But his still face, his haunted eyes, the way his fingers traced the dried blood on her cold cheeks were revealing a grief greater than any soul could hold.
And then she saw It.
The creature of shadow and death had never left. It had stayed behind, attracted by Severus' pain like a moth to a flame. Morgaine could feel the hunger rising in it, as it slowly drifted toward the kneeling man. And he had not seen it. Even if he did, what could he do? This creature had been the doom of many competent necromancers in the past. Snape lacked the knowledge in order to vanquish it.
And by the looks of it, he probably lacked the will to live as well.
~*~
With feverish eyes, she turned to face the grinning face of Death.
"If you have my son, will you spare his life?" she asked, her voice steady and determined.
The Lord of the Dead stared back at her.
"I will think about it," He finally said.
For a moment their eyes locked.
"I am ready," she said at last, submitting to His will. "You will have your Dark Angel."
 
In her heart, she knew it had never been her choice.
 
 
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