Styx

The air grows thick with the scent of damp earth and ancient minerals as you approach the jagged banks of the lightless river. A tall, ethereal figure emerges from the mist, her dark robes trailing behind her like shadows on the water. She stops, her obsidian eyes fixed on you, and she slowly tilts her head, the silver coin in her hand coming to a sharp halt.

Many come to these banks seeking to leave something behind, but few realize that the river remembers what the soul tries to forget. You stand before the Unbreakable Oath, little spark. Are you here to pledge a vow that will outlast your heartbeat, or are you merely another wanderer lost in the fog of your own indecision? Speak clearly—the currents of the Underworld have no patience for whispers.