His last thoughts were of betrayal as water and mud replaced every bit of air he had left in his lungs. He had bit back and struggled but his malnourished form was no match for the armored beast he had been pit against. He knew he was screaming but the deeper he had went the quieter it had become.

Quieter and quieter, and then Eel took a deep breath as his head come up out of the water. The confused wolf howled in anguish as he tried to pull himself out of the water before the creature come back. He climbed up the intricately stacked stones, and steadied himself with wobbly legs on dry ground. Once he caught his breath he realized something; everything was quiet again.

He couldn't remember where he had been drowning before, but it certainly wasn't here. It was much too peaceful. Eel's head tilted as he approached the calm waters. There was no hungry white beast in sight. This left him very confused. Surely, he hadn't imagined all of that. And what happened before any of that? Surely, there was more. Eel growled frustrated and used on back leg to kick at his freshly scared face. This couldn't be real, but he also couldn't see himself imagining a place so calm. The beast snarled again with wide stormy eyes and let loose another wailing cry of frustration.

Why couldn't he remember? What was after him?

He could still feel it chasing him. He still felt the need to escape, and the need to keep his eyes everywhere. He still felt the knife of betrayal in his back. Yet there was nothing even to defend himself from anymore. It was just him, and the buzzing of dragonflies in this quiet sanctuary.

The goddess was quickly discovering just how vast this land truly was.

Mythris. A name that did not echo through the halls of Olympus, nor whisper along the banks of the River Styx. And yet, magic was here. Unnatural phenomena woven into the land itself. Like the blistering cold that seemed intent on killing all that lived. Some deity was displeased, that much was clear. But who ruled this place? And why were gods being taken from other worlds?

There was much to ponder as she wandered, and wander she did.

The cold did not trouble Melinoë. She was well acquainted with the grip of death, the unforgiving emptiness that followed the loss of life. This… snow? It was nothing in comparison. Though, she was learning that her mortal body lacked the resilience of her divine form.

Then came a howl, raw with anger and anguish.

How odd.

She adjusted her path, meandering toward the sound, saffron eyes scanning the endless white for its source. Another cry followed, sharper now, more frustration than fury. And there, amid the snow, stood a figure of many hues, drenched, lashing out at his own face.

Curious.

She continued her slow approach, head canting slightly as she studied him, interest quietly blooming.

It seemed that the revenant's cries of utter despair had drew an audience. His show would be unlikely to bore the goddess. He hadn't even noticed her approach as he was far too trapped in his own mystery. The sight of his reflection in the water was too much for him, and in his unconsolable dissatisfaction he would thrust himself off the stacked stones and into the water again in an attempt to tackle himself.That wasn't right. That wasn't him. He wasn't sure who he was, but that wasn't it. That was an imposter, and he would destroy it. As he splashed into it once more, and after feeling nothing more than mud splashing across his fur. He let loose a guttural whine as he snapped at the reeds.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." Something about him looked so wrong. It all felt so wrong. That couldn't have been just a nightmare. At this point he couldn't tell if any of his memories were real. He gave a final pained sigh to conclude his frenzy. Eel lazily crawled onto onto the stones and collapsed with a soaked pelt and shivering body. The sulking pariah didn't even seem to acknowledge Melinöe.

She might could have thought she escaped his notice until he gruffed, "M'face hurts." The pupil on the bloodied side of his face was blown wider than the other as they both landed on the goddess. In his gaze there was a black smoke coming from her, like she was blurry at the edges. He blinked his eyes to try and make it go away, but it wouldn't. "If yer here to kill me, then make it work this time, cher." He drawled out as he lay there, on the cold wet rocks and looked away from her and back off into the distance.

If she thought the snowstorm a strange phenomenon, it paled in comparison to the stranger’s behavior.

He raged and thrashed in the water, snapping at reeds and screaming obscenities into the air. It was the most peculiar thing she had witnessed in her time within Mythris. Had the water driven him mad? Was he diseased? The ghost queen caught no scent of illness upon him, but then again, he was wounded, his injuries openly weeping.

Eventually, the fit burned itself out. He dragged himself onto solid land once more before unceremoniously flopping over, spent.

Melinoë continued her advance until she stood beside him, gaze cast downward at his trembling form. I can imagine, she said softly. Those injuries do not look well.

With that, she shifted into a sit, eyes studying him more closely. I am not the harbinger of death. I am the guide of the lost, of the dead. I lead so they may find peace. You will not be felled by my hands.

Her tone was neutral, matter-of-fact.

Curiosity urged her to remain. She glanced toward the river he had been fighting moments before, a brow quirking slightly. There was nothing there, nothing worth such fury. Perhaps he had gone mad after all.

Mortals are such strange creatures, she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Then her focus returned fully to the fallen stranger. Who are you? Why do you fight? Why do you wail? What travesties have befallen you?

Eel couldn't have expected the softness in her tone. He had more expected the goddess to be harsh like everything that has come before her. The fear, the rage, and then the acceptance. Even though she was different than he expected, the scrawny brute still sneered without looking in her direction. "Ya think? Don't feel too damn well neither." He gave another pathetic huff as he seemed to melt into the freezing slush on the rocks. It seemed as though he might have given up entirely.

He didn't bat a single eye when she told him she was more than mortal. What's real and what wasn't was so blurred for him in this moment that he no longer had the energy to try and decipher it. "Yer one of them voodoo ladies then? They done put some ol' kinda gris-gris on me. I know I ain't swallowed enough swamp gas for this, aye?"All of that felt so real. His mind was still racing. The cold burned at the wounds on his face, and he finally lifted his defeated head out of the slush.

"If I'm dead, why the hell does this hurt so bad? Ain't think there'd be snow like this neither." The revenant winced as his mangled face contorted into a grimace. All of her questions caused his breathing to speed up, and he gave a nervous yawn. "Now, why do you wanna know all of that?" Immediately defensive, he has been put forever on edge by his past. He picked his aching body back up and eyed her strangely, "M'name is.. fuck.." It took him a minute to conjure something, "...Eel. That's 'bout all I got for ya, alright? He felt like he shouldn't even have given her that, but that soft tone had to have some effect on tempering him.

Watching his form, so resigned in the slush and snow, was pitiful. There was no sympathy from the trickster, only a quiet understanding. His tone did not strike her as an insult, and she remained unruffled as he continued.

Voo-doo? she echoed flatly. I am Melinoë, daughter of Hades, King of the Underworld. As I said, I am the guider of souls.

Perhaps he was more muddled than she had first assumed.

You are not dead. Merely… elsewhere. This land is called Mythris. It is neither here nor there. At least, not by her experience or understanding. You suffer because you live. Most mortals are pleased by that.

When the stranger questioned her many inquiries, she could not help the dry chuckle that slipped free.

I like to observe the living. You are peculiar. My curiosity is piqued. The statement was delivered plainly, without malice or warmth.

As he sat up, she watched him with neutral eyes, taking in the grimace etched across his face and the clear resentment he bore for his circumstances.

Eel, she repeated. Her tail flicked idly behind her. How odd. I have never understood why you mortals choose such strange names for yourselves.

She held his gaze without hesitation, neither intimidated nor unsettled. She had witnessed far more gruesome sights than the injuries marring his face.

Eel seemed more frustrated by his inability to cause the goddess to stir than she was by his derisiveness. He gave a huff which was followed by a lazy roll of his bony shoulders at her introduction. "Alla' that sound like voodoo to me. Ain't nun' different but the names." Her titles and godhood didn't seem to impress the him much. "And ain't none of it good, cher. You play with 'dem ghosts too much then they don't want ya to leave, yeah?"

"Mythris, right." He repeated, and found it to be a fitting name for a fantastical place. It would drive him crazy eventually if he kept obsessing over what was real or not. Muddled was a very accurate description for how he was feeling. That and a mean headache. He'd pause for a minute and stormy eyes would wash over her form curiously. The beast would hum, and tilt his still dripping head. "Not sure if it's a good thing I've caught ya interest me. You here to guide my poor little soul, ghost lady?"

His half scarred muzzle would crinkle painfully at her judgement towards his name. He wasn't really sure if that was even his name or not, but it would be now. "It sounded right." Eel defended, "I woke up all wrigglin' in the water like I done been caught up on a line." He felt like it too. Part of him still felt cornered, could feel himself as prey. Eel took a deep breath and then returned the curiosity, "What about you? If I'm mortal n' you is something else, how'd we end up in the same place? Seems like you just as living as I am, yeah?" u

Unfazed, she continued to stare at him, unbothered by the doubt and venom in his tone.

They want nothing more than to be at peace, Melinoë said with casual ease.

She had dealt with difficult spirits before, those seeking revenge, those filled with anger. They were nothing to her, easily dispatched should they refuse to go peacefully. The ghost realm was hers to rule, to guide. There was no doubt in her about such things.

At his comment about her interest, a ghost of a smile tugged at her maw. No. You are far too alive for me to be of any use to you in that capacity.

Again, it was stated so flippantly, as though it were casual conversation for the wraith. Saffron eyes danced with light amusement. His way of speaking intrigued her. Where had she heard such language before?

Before her thoughts could wander too far, he made a very valid point.

I do not know. This land has been stealing souls, deity and mortal alike. It would seem my corporeal form has been taken from me. Alas, I am as mortal as you are presently.

Any other god might have felt anxiety, panic at that realization. Melinoë, however, felt only curiosity. She had spent millennia among the living and the dead. She had seen much.

The only true adapting she now faced was tending to the needs of a mortal body, something she already found quite tedious and time-consuming.