CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY-TWO

The Walking Dead, Part 1

“Are we sure they can’t tell we’re living people?” Sam asked for the umpteenth time.

He and Raven Knight had rejoined the line of shades outside the city gates a few hours after their meeting with the Phylarch because the shade suggested that they see the city for themselves before deciding whether or not to join the Resistance.

“The Deadman Cloaks the Phylarch loaned us are keeping our lifeforce from leaking out while also helping to double my shadow’s effects,” Raven Knight explained once again.

Triple-A was agreeing with her assessment, adding that the Deadman Cloak also had an ‘Incognito’ passive ability that would allow Sam to blend in with any crowd without arousing suspicion as long as he didn’t do anything to catch the dead’s attention.

Essentially, it is an assassin’s dream item.

Despite their reassurance, Sam couldn’t help but feel doubtful every time one of those hollow gazes barely hidden by their deep hoods glanced his way.

“I feel like they’re looking right at me,” he whispered.

“They’re not,” Raven Knight assured him once more. “The cloaks are doing their job well. I think I’ll keep mine after we’re done here.”

The smile that appeared on her face surprised Sam as it was something he’d never seen her do since their first meeting.

She’s kind of cute, he thought. Although he’d never seen Raven Knight’s face underneath her raven mask, which she’d worn even while on the Argo VII. However, just from her smile, Sam imagined Raven Knight must be a beauty to rival even Thunder.

Raven Knight glanced at Sam and caught him staring. He looked away with reddening cheeks.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Um…”

It wasn’t just because he’d seen her smile, but also because Raven Knight had one arm linked around Sam’s. She wasn’t being overly friendly though, and Sam wasn’t misunderstanding her. He knew Raven Knight just wanted to share her gift of Shadow Manipulation’s effects with him, helping to double Sam’s stealth capability while ensuring the Mark of Hector’s sinister aura was dampened enough to not create unwanted attention for them. But, as this was the kind of thing he did with Thunder when they went out on dates, Raven Knight’s closeness made him uncomfortable. Especially now that he was imagining how pretty she might be behind her mask.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he said quickly.

Raven Knight eyed him for a moment longer before focusing back on the path ahead, making Sam sigh in relief. He was happy that things didn’t turn awkward, although he also hoped his luck wasn’t so bad that Thunder would suddenly appear out of the blue to see him walking arm-in-arm with the alluring raven-haired heroine.

“Did you believe what the Phylarch told us?” Raven Knight asked, drawing Sam out of his delusions.

Sam frowned. “About Minos’ abusing his power over the dead of the city?”

Raven Knight nodded.

Sam took a second to scan the nearby shades, noticing the ragged ghostly robes they wore and the weariness in their expressions. He also saw the light in their eyes — the only bright part of their weak presences — and he thought he could see a desperate sort of hope in those lights. The kind one sometimes saw in the eyes of immigrants who had found sanctuary after running away from an unfortunate fate.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he admitted. Sam liked the Phylarch. He felt like he could trust him. Also, Macaria was his long-dead ancestor who resembled his mom, so Sam couldn’t imagine she was lying to them either, but… “If the City of the Dead is so bad… then why are all these shades so eager to enter it?”

“Perhaps they have no choice… Maybe the alternative of the underworld’s barren wasteland is worst.”

“You think so?” Sam thought about it and remembered his harrowing encounter at Medusa’s temple. “The Gorgon seemed like an irregularity though. We didn’t meet anything else on our way here, right?”

“That’s because we were riding on your sacred beast. Its divine aura would have repelled most horrors below Medusa’s level.”

Sam distinctly remembered that not being the case when he first met the Ceryneian Hind. It had been attacked by a wendigo. The hind did go berserk and destroy it though so Raven Knight’s assumption that other horrors would be afraid of his friend might be true. Still, Sam knew some shades could stay outside without worrying about monsters.

“I guess not everyone’s strong enough to be out there like Achilles…”

“Yes, he would certainly be an exception.”

They walked on in silence while Sam contemplated Raven Knight’s words. He wondered if she might be right about the wasteland being worse than the tyrant living inside the city or perhaps the shades didn’t know that King Minos had gone bad. Well, whatever the case, Sam and Raven Knight were about to find out. They were near enough now to the canyon wall that they could see its city gates; a pair of massive doors a hundred meters tall surrounded by a wall of dark red stone to either side of them that was nearly double the height of the doors.

“Whoa…” Sam whistled.

Raven Knight nodded. “We must be the first living people to see one of the Eight Wonders of Hades since Houdini performed his ‘Great Escape’ from the Hypnos Cavern.”

The canyon walls to either side of the doors had been expertly carved to show depictions of a muscular man surrounded by monstrous giants with grotesque features on one side and tall god-like figures in fancy armor on the other. It was a scene Sam knew well because he’d seen a similar depiction of the Gigantomachia on a painting inside the hidden room of Red Weaver’s Brooklyn home.

“It’s always about giants,” he sighed.

Raven Knight frowned. “It’s a reminder of how hard things might become if we fail here…”

Most of the shades gathered around them averted their gazes from the carvings on the walls. Sam didn’t want to look at them anymore either because they reminded him too much of his circumstances and the result of what could happen if Medea’s band of crazies succeeded in resurrecting Pride. He focused on the doors instead. They were half open in a gesture of welcome to travelers seeking entrance into the city. At least that’s what Sam assumed until he noticed what kind of metal the doors were made of. It was a dark metal that seemed to absorb all the nearby light. Even the bit of light that flashed down on the ground from the forks of lightning streaking across the underworld’s black sky.

“They’re made of iron, right?” Sam guessed.

One didn’t have to be a hero versed in metallurgy to know that iron was anathema to the dead. Being near this mineral weakened a spirit’s connection to the living world, forcing their forms to waver in and out of reality like bad TV receptions. It’s why heroes specializing in phantom hunting usually included items made of iron in their toolkits.

“It’s not just iron… this is the ‘heavy metal iron’ you can only get in the underworld,” Raven Knight answered.

Sam’s eyebrow twitched upward. “Heavy metal iron…?”

“Iron imbued with the energy of death,” she explained. “It’s ten times as strong as regular iron and contains various attributes that further dampen the abilities of shades, phantoms, and even horrors.”

“Attributes that dampen a horror’s abilities…” Sam gazed at the doors with renewed interest. “Think we can bring some of that back to the surface with us?”

“Assuming we survive this adventure… Sure,” Raven Knight answered.

The sarcasm in her tone wasn’t lost on Sam, although he couldn’t help feeling hopeful despite the gloomy atmosphere. This wasn’t due to overconfidence or lack of sense, but because of the experiences he and his friends have earned over the course of their past adventures. They’d gone through so much, challenged difficult trials, survived ancient horrors and megalomaniacal supervillains, and they’ve grown by leaps and bounds since then. This growth instilled Sam with hope; the hope that this journey into Hades wouldn’t be the last adventure for the crew of the Argo VII.

We’ll see each other again, and we’ll get the job done, he thought.

Raven Knight noticed that budding confidence in his expression and said, “You’re a lot different from the rumors.”

“Rumors?” Sam’s brow furrowed. “What rumors?”

It had been a while since Sam checked the forums. He was afraid to read what people were saying about him now that he’d gone from an unknown vigilante to New York’s newest alpha. With his luck, the internet was probably hating on him even more these days.

“I heard you once ran away from being a hero because you lacked confidence in your gift and were afraid of failing,” she said, reminding Sam of his dubious past.

“I did… and it wasn’t just failing too. I was scared of everything.” He glanced at the shades shuffling around them and felt a slight shiver crawl up his spine. “Still am, to be honest… it’s just… I didn’t have any confidence because I was weak back then. But now—”

“You’ve found your strength,” Raven Knight guessed.

In his mind’s eye, Sam thought about the meaning of ‘his’ strength. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the budding gift of life force that came to mind, but familiar faces who’d shared his trials with him. It was his friends. Without them, Sam couldn’t have exorcised a giant’s shadow from the Trickster’s soul or beaten his much stronger cousin while also saving Thunder from the Blight. The crew of the Argo VII had become his strength. He didn’t say this out loud, although he smiled fondly at Raven Knight. He realized that she had recently become one of his strengths too.

Sam didn’t notice it, but the shades around him glanced his way then. And, for just a few seconds, the lights in their eyes shone just a little brighter. Almost as if they’d heard his thoughts and gained hope from him.