Cascade Locks, Oregon, November 18, 1994

On the shoulder of a road near Wygant State Reserve, there was a beautiful Plymouth parked. Outside of it, a skeleton with a brand-new overcoat, tie, and hood was talking on the phone.

"Yes, I'm at the location. You know this road is pretty long, right? And you only gave me a name instead of a detailed dossier. So, the soul wakes up with no one to greet it and starts wandering around. That's why the number of wandering souls and poltergeists just keeps increasing. Which, most of the time, ends up resulting in even more crossings." Charon said, his voice loud and indignant.

"It's a homicide, Charon. Just do your job and look for her. The girl should be around." The voice on the other end of the phone replied.

"'Around' is a little vague, don't you think? Come on, guys, I'm almost retiring. Couldn't you give me something simpler?"

The voice hung up on Charon. He looked around, but there was nothing that would lead him to the girl. Only pine trees to the left, the river to the right. Even the road was strangely calm. No sign of life or death.

Charon returned to the car and drove slowly for a few minutes, alert, inspecting tire tracks, objects on the road, and anything among the trees that could give him a direction. Something unusual. A sign that something was clearly wrong. Then his eyes finally fixed on what appeared to be a white truck, deep in the forest to the left, almost completely hidden by the trees. This would probably have gone unnoticed by others, but aside from his attention to detail, Charon's eyes saw even better at night—something he had inherited from his mother, though he didn't remember her. He immediately braked the car and crossed the road, heading toward the truck.

It was a white Toyota T100. The driver's side door and the bed's door were still open. There was a small pool of blood in the bed, and a trail that led further into the forest, slowly losing its intensity.

At the end of the trail was a man in a black suit. Agitated, sweating, murmuring. Green eyes, a poorly trimmed beard, his white shirt still with bloodstains on the unbuttoned collar.

He was burying a large red suitcase.

No matter how many centuries Charon passed, it never got easier to witness such horrors. However, he wasn't shocked because he knew how terrible people could be. Despite the constant urge to intervene, he couldn't. His job was simply to be there so that the soul would receive a gentle greeting, unlike its violent end. And then guide it on its crossing.

Charon leaned against one of the trees and waited patiently until the murderer finished. Until the suitcase was completely covered in earth. He knew that, just as the girl's time had unfairly come, one day the murderer's time would come too. And Charon was very patient.

After finishing burying the suitcase, the man in the suit looked around to make sure no one had seen him. At that moment, Charon flicked an obolus with his thumb at a branch of one of the trees, breaking the silence. A slight, harmless poltergeist, but it made the man jump, quickening his pace and walking away, paranoid, looking back several times.

Charon heard the engine start a few meters away and the sound of the car getting farther and farther. Then, with a simple gesture, he pulled the girl's spirit from the earth. He then channeled some of his universal energy and, with a talent similar to the Moirai, manifested a thread. With it, he stitched member by member, piece by piece, reassembling the torn soul of the young woman.

A few hours passed. Charon had finished the stitching. The soul was whole again, firmly united by the thread. The last clothes she had worn manifested, covering her body: a delicate waitress uniform, consisting of a short-sleeved black dress, a blue apron, and white shoes. Then he stood up, stepped back a little, and asked:

"Can you stand up, Riley Hayes?"

The young Riley, still a little shaky and disoriented, tried to stand, but couldn't. She remained kneeling for a few moments, looking down, with her black hair falling over her face.

"Where... am I? Did he... hit me?" Riley asked.

"Well... I'll explain everything, Riley. Do you need help getting up?" Charon replied, extending his hand to her.

Riley grabbed Charon's hand, and he helped her get up carefully. Standing, she adjusted her hair, pushing it out of her eyes, and then looked at Charon's face, fell backward, and began to scream:

"AAAHH, WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU? PLEASE, DON'T KILL ME!" Riley screamed, on the ground, as she backed away from him, continuing to scream.

"Yeah, I guess I should have warned you about my appearance earlier, but anyway, it wouldn't have made a difference."

Riley kept screaming. She tried to run, but didn't get very far. She stumbled, fell, and kept screaming, looking at him. Charon followed her, walking slowly toward her with his hands in his overcoat pockets, until she finally got tired of screaming or trying to run.

"Are you done?" Charon asked.

"Take all the time you need, I know it's hard." He said, understanding, as he crouched down in front of her.

"Are you... the devil? What did I do to you? No, no, you're Death! Please, don't take me!"

"Well, in a way, I guess I am a pain in the ass to the gods, but I'm not that guy. And Death rarely comes personally; prefers to stay in her cottage, drinking tea and tending to the flowers. You can call me Charon. I was the grand ferryman of souls. You've probably heard of me. But times have changed, there's been a restructuring of beliefs and hierarchies of deities. And here I am," Charon explained.

Riley listened intently, trying to absorb everything he said. Her fearful expression turned to doubt, and then to surprise.

"The ferryman from Greek mythology? Wait, so I really died?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, Riley. I'm here to carry out your crossing."

"Then that bastard..." Riley said, furious.

Charon extended his hand to her again, and she grabbed it without hesitation. He helped her up and guided her back to the place they had been earlier.

"It's important that you know how I found you. See this freshly covered grave? A man in a black suit put you in a suitcase and buried you right here. Do you know him?" Charon asked.

"Yes. It's the bastard of my husband. When he came home, I confronted him about an affair after a private detective sent me the evidence I needed. We fought badly, and he punched me. That's what I remember."

"Apparently, you hit the ground or something with a lot of force. From there, I believe you can guess what happened next." Charon explained.

Riley looked at her own pale body and noticed the threads connecting it, glowing magically with particles of a vivid blue hue, the same color as the small flames in Charon's eyes. Pure channeled universal energy.

"So, I'm like this because of him. How could he?" Riley reflected, looking down, touching the threads on her arm.

"Unfortunately, desperation leads people to commit the most abominable acts." Charon replied.

Charon turned and started walking back to the car, guiding Riley out of the forest.

"I never thought he'd do something like this. He was impulsive and a jerk, but this is too much, even for him."

"I guess even he didn't expect to do something like this. I believe your death was accidental. He was really tense, it seemed like it was the first time. I'm surprised by the way he did it. Anyway, humans and their ability to do evil. While you were together, did he ever show signs of this nature?" Charon asked, walking with his hands in his overcoat pockets, as they approached the shoulder of the road.

"Sometimes he would come home angry, and we would argue, but every couple goes through that, right?"

"It depends on the intensity of the argument and whether both try to resolve things and improve afterward." Charon replied.

"There was one time, during one of those arguments, when he punched the cupboard, breaking the door. But he was drunk."

"And the fact that he was drunk makes the situation less serious?"

"Well... maybe I ignored the signs."

"And here you are! Not the first, nor the last, to share such a story. You had an entire life ahead of you, which was unjustly taken by the person you loved. If you had paid more attention to the signs and distanced yourself from him, maybe you would still be alive." Charon said, then becoming thoughtful, reflecting on the many other victims he had encountered during his crossings. Souls that arrived to him sooner than they should have, souls who silently endured a life of suffering for love, dependency, or fear.

Charon pointed to the car, and they crossed the road. He opened the door for her, and she got in and put on her seatbelt. Charon walked around, entered, and turned the key, starting the car.

"You put on the seatbelt, haha. Force of habit, I get it. Well... you can't die again, but you can still be thrown out. Believe me, I've crossed through glass countless times, and none of them were my fault." Charon said, laughing as he reminisced. Even in the Asphodel Fields, souls are not safe from this. For there are those who, instead of finally resting, drive around. There is also the possibility of other things suddenly appearing on the road.

"So now? Where are you taking me? Heaven? Hell?" Riley asked.

"It depends on what you believe and what you've done. We only make sure to take the condemned directly to the infernal planes. You seem like a good person, don't worry about that, I'm sure some angel will come to greet you." Charon explained, and then he started driving, making the crossing.

They were heading toward Hood River, but the city seemed never to arrive. As Charon drove, the road began to be covered by a thin layer of water, and the surroundings slowly transformed into mist illuminated by a white, comforting light. Looking through the window, Riley encountered familiar places and moments from her childhood, adolescence, and adulthood. They appeared and disappeared amid the fog. Her house, her dining room, her parents, her school, the place where she met her first love, her first heartbreak, her small rented apartment, the cozy diner where she worked. And at each place they passed, Charon showed interest in her story, asking questions and getting to know her a little more.

"My mother did everything for the house, and my father would find any excuse to complain."

"Your mother was a great person, Riley," Charon said, listening attentively.

"I was very quiet, had few friends in school, but the ones I had were worth it, and I kept them until today."

"I'm sure they'll miss you."

"That was the guy I liked back then."

"Did you tell him how you felt?"

"We started dating, but he seemed to like being around other girls more than being with me."

"When we're young, hearts tend to be indecisive. They are still learning how to deal with their own feelings and discovering themselves. However, he should have been honest from the start."

"After my mother passed away, I couldn't stand living in that house with just my father. I felt like a maid, a prisoner. I had to leave."

"The house ceased to be a home, and you had to find a better place. A new refuge where you could feel at peace."

"This is the diner where I worked. It didn't pay much, but it was still very helpful. It's where I learned to interact better with people."

"I love diners and cafes."

"This was my apartment. I started with just a mattress, a stove, and a refrigerator. It was simple, but it was mine, and things seemed to be finally getting better."

"You had to start somewhere. And little by little, you would conquer more."

"Then I met him. Jonathan. He came to the diner often. We talked when it wasn't busy. He was sweet, kind, attentive, and handsome. He made me feel special like never before."

"For someone who has never experienced true love, any love seems enough."

"After a while, we started dating. Sometimes he would disappear, but he would return saying he was too busy with his work at the real estate agency."

"Never trust lawyers, politicians, salespeople, and real estate agents."

"Time passed, and we got married. In the first few months, everything was perfect. He showed me affection, showered me with compliments, but he was also very jealous. I worked at the diner and still took good care of the house, but if I forgot to make a simple coffee, we would argue. Over time, he started disappearing more often, getting lost in gambling and drinking, to the point where he even forgot about the household bills. Even the sweet words he used to say to me started turning into comparisons, where he would compare me to other women."

"Wow, there were more signs than I thought."

"And to make matters worse..."

"As if it wasn't bad enough..."

"Yeah... and to make matters worse, many times, after spending the weekend away, he would come back smelling of women's perfume on his clothes. He was very evasive and would never admit it. He could lie without feeling any guilt. So, I asked a private investigator friend I met at the diner for help. He followed my husband for seventeen days, gathering evidence. And then, thanks to him, I was able to confront my husband with all the proof."

"You could have taken that evidence to court and asked for a divorce, couldn't you?"

"I wanted to hear it from him. I wanted him to apologize. I wanted to tell him everything I had kept inside, consuming me. I wanted him to know how much he hurt me. If I had known what would happen, I would have just left or not let him in the house again."

"Yeah, I'm sorry it ended like that. It wasn't your time. And this 'time arriving' thing doesn't exist. There is no specific time determined by fate. Often, people end up here because of things they couldn't control and the fault of others, unfortunately."

The mist dissipated as they approached the Hood River entrance sign. Charon slowed the car and then parked on the shoulder, a little ahead of the sign.

"Well, Riley, it was a pleasure. I believe the crossing has ended. I hope you find peace and well-deserved rest. I know it's no consolation, but we suffer much more in life," said Charon, who then got out of the car and opened the door for Riley.