Overview:

James and Topher travel to Venice, Italy, for their mission, but after obtaining Charon’s obols, they are unwittingly ferried to the Underworld. There, they face Cerberus, the fearsome three-headed guardian, before Hermes, the herald god, offers them passage back to the mortal world.

Meanwhile, the Seven Acolytes regroup, though Love Fey (Allison) and Cerulean remain missing. Topher’s mother, Selena, learns about the mall incident through an international broadcast. Elsewhere, Cerulean reunites with Cielo, a divine steed, and sets off on a journey to Atlantis.

Guardians of the Underworld baring their fangs.

— The Seven Days Prophecy

The sun shone brightly overhead, casting its warmth on the Gothic and Renaissance palaces that lined the canals, replacing roads with shimmering waterways.

“I love sunny skies. They bring such a cheerful atmosphere,” James quipped, smiling.

“We can do so many activities around here and meet all kinds of people,” Topher added, his adventurous spirit shining through.

Inside a cozy diner, bathed in sunlight and grounded by stone and brick walls, with wooden furniture completing the rustic look, Topher and James sat at a table with an elderly, stout man. Topher enjoyed a plate of spaghetti with tomato sauce and meatballs, while James savored a creamy Carbonara, lightly dusted with black pepper and bits of bacon, garnished with fresh basil. The old man opted for a large croissant.

In the center of the table sat a Margherita pizza—peeled tomatoes, mozzarella, fresh basil leaves, and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil on a perfectly raised crust.

“There’s a curio shop nearby, full of antiquities of all kinds,” the old man shared, his eyes twinkling.

“Kuya James, I’d love to visit that,” Topher said, his excitement evident.

“Sure, we’ll go there later,” James replied warmly.

“Send my regards to the kind shopkeeper,” the old man added with a smile.

Inside the curio shop, a vast array of objects and relics from classical antiquity were on display—artifacts from Greco-Roman times, Persia, Ancient Egypt, and other ancient civilizations of the Near East.

Topher, full of curiosity, opened a small, ornate box and discovered a handful of copper coins inside. “Wow, amazing!”

James browsed the shelves, taking in the collection of antiquities.

The shopkeeper, an elderly woman, noticed Topher holding the box. “You have a good eye, young man,” she remarked, smiling kindly.

Topher approached her desk, intrigued.

“Do you know what those copper coins are for?” the shopkeeper asked.

“Honestly, Ma’am, I don’t,” Topher admitted.

“Those are Charon’s obols,” she revealed.

“Oh, really? That’s cool! But wouldn’t gold or silver—or at least bronze—be more fitting for Charon?” Topher asked, slightly disappointed by the copper.

“Gold and silver may hold great value to us mortals, but to the ferryman of the Underworld, those humble coins are the fare for souls crossing the rivers Styx and Acheron,” the shopkeeper explained.

“A long time ago, after the ritual rites, loved ones would place these obols inside, atop, or near the mouths of the deceased, ensuring their peaceful passage to the afterlife,” she continued, her voice soft but filled with reverence.

James joined his cousin and the shopkeeper, curious about their conversation.

“Alright, little man,” the shopkeeper said playfully. “I have a minigame for you. If you can guess the exact number of obols in that box, it’s yours, free of charge!”

“Go for it, Topher! Free stuff is always a win,” James cheered him on.

Topher gently stroked the cover of the small box before opening it. The copper coins—Charon’s obols—gleamed with a warm auburn hue. The shopkeeper watched him closely, while a divine aura, visible only to spiritual eyes, seemed to radiate from the boy in a soft white glow.

“There are exactly forty-eight coins,” Topher said confidently.

“Well, looks like our little gentleman here just won a precious item!” the shopkeeper announced, delighted.

“Lady Luck’s on your side,” James said, happy for his cousin.

As they left the shop, the shopkeeper waved them off with a smile. “Bon voyage!” she called after them, wishing them well on their journey.

Topher and James made their way to the central square, Piazza San Marco (St. Mark’s Square). Inside St. Mark’s Basilica, they marveled at the Byzantine mosaics that adorned the tiles. As they moved through the bustling square, they crossed paths with a group of schoolchildren on a field trip, led by a teacher and a tour guide explaining the rich history of the area.

Their next stop was the Campanile bell tower, offering a stunning view of Venice’s iconic red rooftops.

“How much for two?” James asked the old ferryman, gesturing to himself and Topher.

“I’ll take payment later,” replied the ferryman, dressed in a traditional white-and-black striped shirt.

James and Topher boarded the gondola for a ride through Venice’s famous canals. The ferryman, wearing suspenders over his black trousers, quietly rowed the boat, his eyes sneaking glances at the small ornate box in Topher’s hands. When Topher opened it, the copper coins from the curio shop gleamed.

“These coins and the box are really something,” Topher said, admiring the intricate design.

“The weather’s amazing—clear skies and sunshine,” James added cheerfully, glancing upward.

“This gondola ride is an adventure,” Topher continued, his eyes tracing the lines of the Gothic and Renaissance palaces they passed. “Venice feels like a world caught between the old and the new.”

Tourists surrounded them—families, couples, friends, and solo travelers—all with stories of their own. But gradually, the bright afternoon light began to dim.

“Wait… what’s happening? It’s getting dark,” James said, his voice laced with unease.

He looked up in shock to see an unexpected solar eclipse, the sun vanishing behind the moon. “Was there any news about a solar eclipse today?”

“It’s not just the eclipse, Kuya James,” Topher said, pointing. “Look at the fog.”

James followed his cousin’s gaze and saw thick fog rolling in from every direction. “And it’s getting colder,” he added, shivering slightly.

The fog thickened until everything around them disappeared. When it finally lifted, they found themselves in a different world. Night had fallen, and a huge full moon hung low in the sky. Dark, twisted trees with long, claw-like branches lined both sides of an unfamiliar river. The water, dark navy with a slate-gray hue, seemed endless, shrouded in an eerie fog. Everything felt ghostly, as if they had stepped into a dream—or a nightmare.

The ferryman was no longer the quiet old man they had first met. Now, he was cloaked like a hermit, his form shadowed and mysterious as he rowed them across the river. The boat had a crude wooden lamppost, its dim, warm light flickering alongside the cold moonlight.

“Where are we? Who are you? And why are we here?” James fired off question after question, panic creeping into his voice.

Topher’s eyes widened as the ornate box in his lap creaked open by itself. The copper coins—the Charon obols—floated out and drifted toward the ferryman. “This is your payment,” the ferryman said in a gravelly voice.

Topher clutched the now-empty box, his heart racing. “Kuya James, this ferryman… he’s Charon. We’re no longer in Venice. We’re on the River Styx.”

James stared in disbelief, his mind struggling to grasp the situation. “This can’t be real…”

A long time had passed, and James and Topher had transformed into their alter-egos, Oppa Rockstar and Cerulean Arlentis, respectively. They still sat in the rowboat, paddled by the enigmatic Charon, as they drifted down the dark waters of the River Styx. In the distance, a green glow moved beneath the navy-slate waves, revealing the translucent form of a specter—skin barely clinging to its bones, like a mummified corpse.

“Aaaaahhh!” the specter shrieked, its bony hands grasping Cerulean’s silver-gold gauntlet at the edge of the boat.

Cerulean froze for a moment, then instinctively blasted the specter away with a beam of holy light.

“There’s more coming,” Rockstar warned, pointing ahead.

Cerulean turned to his left and saw a horde of green-lit, mummified specters rapidly swimming toward them. His hands, encased in a warm white halo, unleashed twin blasts of ivory light, obliterating the specters on that side of the river.

On the right, Rockstar saw another wave of specters approaching. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned six floating spotlights—cyan, magenta, and yellow. The spotlights blasted beams of light, extinguishing the green flames surrounding the specters as they sank into the waters.

But the danger wasn’t over. A third wave of specters circled the boat, their twisted forms rotating in the murky depths. Yet, Charon remained unfazed, calmly paddling as if nothing had changed.

Cerulean clasped his crucifix in both gauntleted hands and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer in Latin:

“Pater noster, qui es in caelis,

Sanctificetur nomen tuum,

Adveniat regnum tuum,

Fiat voluntas tua, etc.

In terra sicut in caelis.

Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie,

Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,

Sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.

Et ne nos inducas in tentationem,

Sed libera nos a malo. Amen.”

The crucifix glowed brightly as Cerulean raised it high above his head. A brilliant white-gold light erupted from it, flooding the area and vanquishing the circling specters. Relieved, Rockstar reflexively made the sign of the cross.

“You didn’t mention we’d be attacked by specters on this river,” Rockstar softly chastised, turning to Charon.

“Not all souls receive the proper ritual rites,” Charon replied calmly. “More importantly, they don’t have the obols to pay me my fare. As a result, they become stranded on the shores of the Styx for a hundred years before they can cross. But some wither away, losing themselves to the fog. It’s extremely rare for these lost souls to drift into the waters, but that is what you experienced today. The last time I saw such a phenomenon was centuries ago.”

“These specters were drawn to the life force that burns brightly within you both. They once had that same light, but now, they seek it at any cost,” Charon added.

“And yet you just kept paddling, like you didn’t care if we died back there,” Rockstar shot back, though his tone remained tempered.

“To live or to die, that is not for me—or for you—to decide. It is up to the Fates,” Charon said, his voice as unyielding as his philosophy.

Sometime later, Charon broke the silence. “We’re approaching the gates of the Underworld, the realm ruled by Hades. His subjects are the dead, and you two are alive. Without the god’s permission, you cannot pass. His guard dog, Cerberus—a three-headed giant—stands watch.”

Charon’s weathered face, pale and solemn, peeked out from under his hood as he continued, “The universe and the cosmos are governed by a preordained order. Earth, nature, and all life adhere to laws mandated by the gods, whose wisdom far surpasses mortal understanding. The living and the dead are meant to exist in separate realms, for life and death must remain apart. Without this boundary, chaos would consume everything, with no hope of return.”

He paused, then added, “A warrior, a hero, must have courage and strength. But those virtues alone are not enough. There are times when a champion must sheathe his sword in order to protect what is truly important.” With that, Charon fell silent once more.

The boat came to a halt at the shore, and Cerulean Arlentis (Topher) and Oppa Rockstar (James) stepped onto solid ground.

“Goodbye, mister. Take care,” Cerulean said, bidding Charon farewell.

“I doubt he’s going to turn around and say ‘goodbye’ back,” Rockstar remarked with a shrug.

Charon continued rowing, growing smaller in the distance until he disappeared entirely into the foggy horizon of the river.

Cerulean Arlentis (Topher) and Oppa Rockstar (James) were nearing the gates of the Underworld when, from the fog, Cerberus—a giant, three-headed dog—emerged. Each head bared its fangs, the faces contorted with rage. The terrifying guard dog charged at them, forcing the two to run for their lives. Cerberus chased them until a colonnade appeared, creating a brief boundary between the watchdog and the two cousins.

Cerberus’s three heads peeked through the gaps in the colonnade as Cerulean and Rockstar dashed away, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence.

“Kuya James, I have an idea, but I need you to be the bait,” Cerulean called out.

“That doesn’t sound even remotely good—getting chomped down by a dog with three heads. But fine, we can make it work,” Rockstar joked before agreeing with a smirk.

Past the colonnade, the chase continued, with nothing standing between Cerberus and his prey. As planned, Rockstar acted as the bait. He rode a wave of musical staff on his sleek surfboard, leaving behind a trail of hopping music notes that played tunes with every pop. Surfing in circles, he kept the massive dog distracted, making sure Cerberus stayed in place.

I just have to keep him contained, Rockstar reminded himself, focusing on Cerulean’s instructions.

High above, Cerulean flew gracefully, his white cape billowing behind him. The paladin raised his arms, and glowing spheres formed in his hands. One by one, he summoned six divine maces and planted them on the ground, creating a six-pointed star beneath Cerberus. As the formation completed, golden chains shot out from the maces, binding the three-headed beast.

Cerulean descended before Cerberus, summoning a holy sword from the heavens. With both hands gripping the sword, he struck the ground, unleashing a powerful shockwave of white light that brought the mighty creature to its knees. Cerberus whimpered in defeat.

“It’s okay, big guy. It’s all over now. You can rest for a while,” Cerulean said gently, petting all three heads of Cerberus.

The third head even licked him, having taken a liking to the little crusader. Cerulean giggled. This wasn’t exactly Rockstar’s idea of civilities.

Rockstar approached and asked, “Why did you spare Cerberus?”

Cerulean glanced up at the dark sky of the Underworld. “Because he is the true Guardian of the Underworld. He keeps the dead inside and ensures the living stay outside. He is the real boundary between life and death, not just the gates. It’s as it should be, the order of the cosmos and the law of nature—preordained by the gods.”