after my last escapade in Asphodel.
Styx was furious I had disobeyed her.
It was also, I had now learned, at risk to himself.
If Hades learned of his visits,
he could burn the oak of his handcrafted ferry.
Yet it was the only way Charon could see me.
And besides, he told me,
he could make himself another boat.
But I knew it was not that simple.
He was the ferryman and it was his duty
to escort the dead where they must go.
A boat to carry the dead was crafted
in the dangerous bowels of the Underworld
with the blessing of Hades himself.
It warmed my heart that he would do this,
risk the wrath of Styx and Hades
to see me, and for our friendship.
So as he sat there at my obsidian table,
our laughing reflections gleaming
inside the smooth surface,
torches around us
glowing with light,
I listened carefully as he told me
about his day, his work and sometimes now,
he confided in me of the difficulty of growing up
as a bright son of the darkness and the night.
‘So,’ he asked,
‘why has Styx forbidden you
from even leaving the palace?
What have you done?’
