The river churned, a slow-moving body of fire that breathed heat into the air. The boat drifted across it, half-burned wood groaning with every shift, flames licking along its edges but never fully consuming it. The dead stood close together, silent as their skin blistered and split under the heat, yet none of them fell. A man near the edge lowered his hand into the lava; it caught instantly, burning down to ash as he watched without a sound.
“Does it… stop hurting?” someone whispered.
No one answered. At the helm, the ferryman pushed forward with a charred pole, unmoved by the fire crawling over him.
A woman suddenly screamed, her voice tearing through the silence.
“This is wrong! I don’t belong here! I was good; I swear I was good!”
A slow wave of fire rose and swallowed her legs, dragging her down as she clawed at the others.
“Help me please, just pull me back!” she cried. No one moved. A man beside her shut his eyes and muttered, “It doesn’t matter.” She sank, her voice breaking into nothing as the molten surface closed over her.
The flames climbed higher, the boat sinking lower, wood cracking and falling away into the fire below.
“Where are you taking us?” someone asked, their voice hollow. The ferryman did not turn. “Forward,” he said.
Another voice, thinner now, asked, “Does it end?” The ferryman’s reply came, quiet and certain:
“No.”
thanks for reading.
