The Choice

She clutched at her covers in fear, at the sudden chill of her surroundings.

Something was definitely not right, she just didn't know what. She took a deep breath, and sat up.

Her room was...gone. She was in a large circular room with polished black walls, smooth black marble floors, and a ceiling so high that she couldn't see it, or it was black as well and it couldn't be seen.

What bothered her the most was the lack of windows, doors, or an obvious light source.

Until she heard the Voice.

Then she panicked.

The Voice was cold, unnatural, and seemed to come from the very walls of the room, reverberating through her spine.

She would have run, except she forgot how to. She stood rooted in place, from fear, anger, curiosity, she couldn't tell.

"Well, well, well. Astoria Holmes. I should tell you, no mortal has ever visited my chambers before. But you...you are the first one here by invitation."

Mortal? Did he call her 'mortal'? Like she was supposed to be dead or something. Was she? But when she found courage to open her mouth, another question came out,  "Who...are you?"

He laughed. Not a cold laugh, like she would have expected. But a laugh that sounded almost genuine, but ended almost as soon as it started.

"I have never been asked that question. People who appear before me always know who I am. Your time hasn't come yet. You've been burdened with a lot. So much pain in someone so very young...you would probably blame me, I suppose. But I didn't have a choice. I'm giving you one. Memories are a powerful thing. But remember, child, knowledge comes with a price."

She looked around and paled at the new piece of furniture that seemed to have materialized behind her. The table didn't look exactly solid, but as if it was made of dark grey smoke. A small, intricately fashioned golden hammer lay to her left. The centre of the table had a circular dent that could easily fit the head of the hammer.

On the other side, a thin silver cup of what seemed to be a clear sparkling liquid stood tall, beads of condensation on its surface, wafting a sweet, almost entrancing vapor in her direction. The Voice said, “Go ahead, make your choice.”

But she didn't see all these things first. What caught her attention was the design on the surface of the table. A skull and crossbones. She stopped breathing as she put two and two together. She knew who the Voice belonged to.

The drink. The waters of the Lethe. She knew what it would do. It would wipe out all her memories since the day that had changed her life. 

The day she had woken up in the hospital with no recollection of how or why she was there. The reluctance of her mother when she had asked about it. The piercing stares. The whispering. The accusing looks. The way that no one ever looked her in the face after that. All the visits from family, cut short, because no one seemed to want to answer her questions. The unexplainable guilt that grew with every passing second. As to why, she had no clue.

She had endured two weeks of that torture, she wouldn't anymore. She needed to know.

She picked up the hammer, and brought it down, harder than she meant to, pushing it into the circular dent in the middle of the table. It didn't make contact. Instead, the entire table dissolved into smoke, rising and swirling around her, and in the depths of the grey, she saw two figures,  moving, not like a video, but not quite unlike.

She saw herself carrying a baby, her little niece. The two month old was a delicate little thing, with huge, watery black liquid eyes and a cute little smile that made her heart melt. The child nuzzled comfortably against her neck.

She checked the temperature of the little bath she had drawn up, and apparently satisfied, she carefully lowered the child into the warm water. She watched herself suddenly go rigid, fall to the floor and convulse. She watched helplessly as she flailed on the ground, till the water rose in the tub, the child still inside.

She collapsed on the floor, as the smoke around her broke form, washing over her and disappearing, leaving her shaking with shock, denial, guilt. She lay there for hours, minutes, days...she lost count.

She suddenly remembered something and jumped up, reaching for the silver cup. But it had vanished along with everything else.

A choice.

And she had made the wrong one.

***

(A note to the reader: The supernatural element in the story is perhaps, not clearly explained. I had assumed that the few references, the talk of mortals, the skull and crossbones, the Lethe reference, and the subtle "I had no choice in the matter of your neice's death" would be enough clue for the reader to make out who the voice belonged to.

Hades, the Greek God of the Underworld, is the main focus of the supernatural. His main domain, the Underworld, guarded by Cerberus, the giant three headed dog, also houses five magical rivers, including the Lethe, which is said to contain waters so powerful that it is capable of wiping out memories of an entire lifetime.

I have, perhaps arrogantly, overlooked the fact that not everyone is a nerd, and hence not aware of Greek Gods and the various magical rivers they have under command. If you had it figured out, you have my appreciation.)