Two gold bits. That was what everlasting peace in the afterlife cost. Paid in full to Thanatos, the harbinger of death, for travel to Elysium. Even the most poor amongst the populace could afford such a price. A modest sum for the right to rest amongst the poppy fields.
Those that could not received no mercy from the harbinger. They were told to take the long way. A path laden with horrors and hardship, where one’s hooves bled and tears flowed freely. A torturous trot through Tartarus to the ornate gates.
Only to be cut down by Thanatos himself, protector and toll keeper of the fields, with a reminder of the cost to enter.
Thanatos, wings dark as night, eyes bright as stars, always made it clear that only those with payment could enter. There was no other way through. Despite this clear instruction, many would plead, beg, bargain, and cry for entry, but Thanatos never cared. There were clear rules to follow, and it was not his fault when a soul was incapable of doing so.
Besides, he despised life. The gods. Nearly everything that the wide world had to offer.
Though, it was only nearly.
There was one thing Thanatos loved. One thing that pierced through the walls of his cold, dead heart. An indescribable thing that made him feel like his immortality was worth living. But only one in a million could achieve it.
Most souls were not one in a million.