Charon sat down on the cold onyx, his back pressing against the wall. The chill seeped through his robe, but he barely noticed. His mind was still trying to piece together everything Achlys had said.
Two demi-gods, bound to him. One by choice, one by accident.
One was content to wait. One was ready to strangle him.
'Just the kind of situation you want to find yourself in.'
He focused on Achlys, who had stopped pacing and now stood near the altar, her indistinct outline framed by the pale glow of the mist. She wasn't looking at him, if she had eyes, but he could tell she was aware of every movement he made.
'It's like I'm being stalked.'
Tired of waiting, the visions having sapped his patience despite how much the Warden wanted him to retain it, he finally spoke.
"You haven't told me what happens next."
Achlys tilted her head just slightly, as though determining how much to give away.
