"Hey, kiddo!" Charon is leaning by the black roped rigging as I step onto deck – booted feet crossed, and arms folded against his slender chest.

I give him my iciest glare. "You were supposed to help us."

He pushes off from the post and shrugs – patting the small leather satchel by his waist. "I go where the money is. And I'm true to my word. Your friends will get passage on the next Ferry. But the boss has ordered this one and Cal didn't give me near enough to defy a direct order from the God of the Dead."

The rumbling of marching feet sounds from behind me. I walk to the side of the ferry, placing the box at my feet, and peer over. Mino and Valentine are talking. But I only focus on that for a split second – my attention consumed by something far greater.

The army of the dead are here.

There are hundreds of them, spilling out of the courthouse at the end of the pier, and making their way towards us. Their footsteps are as loud as thunder. They're a mixture of genders – each wearing silver and black Roman style helmets that bite down the center of their faces, and thin black armored suits that cling to their bodies.

They don't look dead – not like Valentine's cupid army. But they don't seem quite alive either. It's their movements I think – rhythmic, yet fluid. They radiate power.

Meg leads them up another ramp that Charon has extended down onto the pier and across the black boards towards a door leading below deck.

I watch the progress of one – a tall, wiry male. His skin seems to be stretched tightly over his bones – paper thin to the extent I can see gleaming white bone beneath. When his head snaps towards me and I meet his cold, unblinking eyes, ice seems to crackle through my veins and mingle with the darkness.

"They're quite something, aren't they?" says Valentine – coming to stand beside me.

"Yes. They are."

I feel his eyes on me for a moment. Then he sighs and walks away – joining Mino and Charon by the rigging. I continue to watch the army until all of them are aboard.

"Come on, kiddo. I'll show you to one of the private cabins. You look like hell."

I turn to face Charon. "Oh, thanks. So nice of you to say . . "

There's a flash of white teeth as he grins. "Anytime."

I pick up the box then follow him across the deck – not looking at Valentine but feeling his eyes on me as I pass him by. Charon leads me through a door by one of the cages on deck, and we descend into a small, damp corridor. He opens a door to the left and gestures I go inside.

"You know, we met before, kiddo?" says Charon as I enter a small space – strangely cosy with a red comforter over the single bed, an embroidered cushion on the small armchair in the corner, and a candle flicking light about the space from a small table in the center of the room.

I place the box by the bed and sit down on the hard mattress – my body, soul, and head aching.

"Yes," I say. "At the beach after the Valentine's Day battle when you gave me Cal's life thread, at Mino's house, a couple of days ago -"

"No. I mean before." He watches me from the doorway, leaning against the frame. "You paid me two obols – one to get into the Underworld, and one to get out. I think you were the first to do it. You were a good kid. I liked you."

"That wasn't me," I say through gritted teeth.

He shrugs. "If you say so." He bites his lip. "He's manipulating you, you know?"

"Valentine?" I rub my temple. "Yeah. I figured."

"Then why are you going along with it?"

My head suddenly stops pounding as a thought cuts across all the others. It settles, quiet but prominent among all the noise. I look up. Charon takes a step back as my gaze hits his face, his brow furrowing.

"Because I want to make them pay," I say.

***

I wake in darkness – the candle snubbed out. The room rocks. The sparse furniture slides across the floor. Waves roar against the sides of the ferry and coldness seeps the walls – from the army of the dead below, or the weather, or the night – I cannot tell.

I dreamt, I think.

I dreamt of people worshiping me, though I never asked for them to. I dreamt of sisters who envied me, a family who despised me. I dreamt of temples, and arrows, and deathly tests. I dreamt of being tricked. I dreamt of the gods. I dreamt of Venus.

And then the dream changed. . .

I dreamt of Forever Falls. I dreamt of ocean eyes meeting mine across a classroom. I dreamt of the Trial Room, and secrets, and betrayal. I dreamt of being tricked. I dreamt of the gods. I dreamt of Venus.

I dreamt I was angry. And when I wake, I am angry.

I am no pawn of the gods.

I stand. I cross the room and make my way above deck as the boat cuts through the stormy waters. The decking is desolate, the night devoid of stars. I walk slowly across the ship – feeling the sea spray, cold, against my skin. I taste salt in the air and smell seaweed and death and the ocean.

I make my way past the billowing gold gilded sails. I stop at the bow of the ship, marked by a silver skull, and place my hands on either side of it – leaning forwards into the wind as it whips my hair into my face.

I look ahead at barrier between the living and the dead – a moving wall of darkness and shadow. We're almost upon it and it towers high above us as the ship cuts through the water at supernatural speed.

Its tendrils creep onto the ship. And then we are swallowed by it.

I can feel its cold fingers wrapping around my arms, my legs. I can taste it, inky and sweet as it enters my mouth and curls up my nose.

I can see nothing.

But then, against the backdrop of darkness, I hear Venus's child-like laugh.

I see Cupid sat across the table from me at the Love Shack. . .

. . . You used me to resurrect an Ancient Goddess!. . .

I remember the cupid from the Arrows, sentencing me to death after he turned Charlie into one of them. I see the receptionist at the Cupids Matchmaking Service pointing a black arrow at my chest as we escaped with the Records of the Finis.

. . .cupids cannot be matched . . .forgive me. . .

I think of the trial room, of the stamping of feet, of being bound to a post by the cupids who turned against me. I think of the executioner with his elaborate black bow – pointing it at my chest - as Venus read out the charges against us.

. . .You've been a naughty little match. . .

And I'm cold.

So cold.

Everything is black.

I'm lost in infinite nothingness.

Until I think of how it felt to plunge the Finis into her heart. The feeling is warm against the chill of the dark. It fires something through my veins and quietens the noise in my mind.

And then the turbulence stills. The darkness fades to grey. In the distance blinking lights highlight the cliff-edge. Above stars puncture the sky.

We're through.

Footsteps sound behind me and Valentine stops to my left – close enough that I can feel his body heat against my back. To my other side Mino approaches.

The three of us look ahead – eyes fixed on the horizon.

Behind us the shadow billows and rages – I feel it – the Ferry of the Dead leaving a wake of tendrils as the barrier reaches for those that belong behind it.

But we are still. Calm. Silent.

The army of the dead below deck make no sound as we lead them to the world of the living. I wonder if Cupid, Cal, and Crystal have realized we're gone, yet. I wonder if the Cupids Matchmaking Service know we are coming for them. I wonder if Valentine knows that I will not be manipulated, that we will do this on my terms. I wonder if Venus is ready for me.

It doesn't matter.

I will bring the darkness.