Psyche’s hands trembled as she descended into the icy cold depths of Hades’s realm. She couldn’t see the spirits undoubtably floating around her, but she knew they were there.
Finally she came to the Styx itself. Its awful waters were cluttered with the waste of humans – broken pottery, discarded farming tools, ruined jewelry. And there, leaning heavily on his pole, was Charon, the boatman. She hesitantly handed him the coin, and his dark, empty eyes invited her on the barge.
When the barge landed on the opposite bank of the terrible Styx, Psyche clutched the cake she would need for the next horror. A few yards in front of her, growling and snarling, Cerberus sat with trails of drool hanging from his teeth. She tossed him the cake, picked up her skirts, and sped past his huge figure.
Persephone herself was kind enough, for the wife of the King of the Dead. She thanked Psyche for coming down, filled a box with cosmetics for Aphrodite, and sent Psyche on her way.
Too easy, Psyche thought.