The mist closed in tighter, pressing against my skin like cold, wet breath. Shapes moved in the fog—hulking shadows with too many limbs and no solid edges, just flashes of something sharp, something wrong. I''d seen plenty of shades over the years, but these weren’t the usual hangers-on. These things weren’t lost souls. They were predators.


    Aric stayed seated, unnervingly calm, as the boat groaned under the weight of the river’s rising anger.


    “All right, Aric,” I said, gripping the edge of the boat as it swayed violently. “Enough with the cryptic act. Care to tell me what’s hunting you before it tears us both apart?”


    He didn’t look at me. His gaze stayed fixed on the mist, his face obscured by the hood. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost thoughtful.


    “You ever wonder why the dead are so good at telling tales?” he asked.


    I stared at him, incredulous. “You pick now to wax philosophical?”


    He ignored me, his fingers curling around the edge of his cloak.


    “Because we’ve got nothing left to lose. The truth doesn’t scare us anymore. Not like it does the living.”


    The growling grew louder, vibrating through the boat, making the hull tremble beneath us. Whatever was out there wasn’t waiting for an invitation.


    “If you want to talk about truth, fine,” I snapped. “But let’s survive the next five minutes first.”


    Aric turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the faintest flicker of a smirk.


    “You don’t understand, ferryman. The truth is why they’re here.”


    The river surged, and something slammed into the side of the boat with enough force to send me sprawling. The breath was knocked out of me as I hit the deck. My oar was gone, swallowed by the hungry river.


    I scrambled to my feet, my heart thudding in my ears. The mist parted just enough for me to see it—an immense, shifting form rising from the water, its surface writhing like a nest of snakes. Its "head"—if you could call it that—turned toward me, hollow eyes glowing faintly with a sickly light.


    “Aric!” I shouted, grabbing the edge of the boat as it tipped dangerously. “Whatever you did to piss these things off, now’s the time to fix it!”You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He stood then, slow and deliberate, his hood falling back to reveal a face carved by exhaustion and something deeper—guilt, maybe, or the weight of too many secrets.


    “I didn’t bring them here,” he said, his voice calm despite the chaos. “They’ve been following me since the day I died.”


    “Great,” I growled. “Then maybe you can tell them to take a number!”


    The creature lunged, its shifting form twisting through the air like smoke caught in a gale. I ducked, narrowly avoiding a swipe of its jagged limb.


    Aric didn’t flinch. He stepped forward, raising a hand. For a moment, the air around him shimmered, and the mist recoiled slightly, as if whatever was inside him burned too brightly for it to touch.


    “They’re not here for me,” he said quietly.


    I froze. The words sliced through the noise like a blade.


    “What?”


    “They’re here for you, Kaelith.”


    The boat rocked violently, and the shadows closed in from all sides. My heart hammered in my chest as the pieces began to click into place.


    “You’re lying,” I said, my voice hoarse.


    Aric met my gaze, unwavering.


    “You’ve ferried the dead for so long, you’ve forgotten what it means to be alive. You’ve forgotten who you were before the river. But they haven’t.”


    The creature lunged, its massive form crashing toward us, its limbs a blur of jagged edges in the mist. I fumbled for a weapon I didn’t have, panic swelling in my chest as my pulse hammered in my ears. Every instinct screamed to act, to fight, to run—but I was too damn slow.


    The boat rocked violently, tipping as the beast’s shadow swallowed Aric whole. The air around us twisted with its force. I saw only a blur, the thing’s limbs cutting through the fog, but not enough to make sense of it.


    Then came the sound—a sickening thud, wet and brutal, followed by the shriek of something that wasn’t human. It felt like the blow landed in my chest, the air knocked from my lungs in a single sickening strike. The boat tilted further, and I had to grip the edge with both hands to keep from being thrown overboard.


    Aric didn’t move. He stayed standing, his silhouette swallowed by the creature’s enormity. There was no time to react, no time to save him. The shadow of its limbs eclipsed him, and then—nothing.


    The boat shuddered beneath me, and for one moment, it felt like the entire river itself had gone still. The mist thickened, curling around us like a guilty secret. I could hear nothing—no growls, no thrashing, just the thudding of my own heart as I clung to the boat, desperate for some sign, anything, to break the silence.


    I waited. The fog closed in, thicker than before. No creature. No Aric. Just the sound of my breath and the beat of my pulse.


    For the first time, I wondered if the story I’d been telling myself all these years—the one where I’m just the ferryman—was the wrong one.