"I want to know how to contact someone on the surface world," I said plainly. That was what I needed.
Sisyphus narrowed his eyes at me. "You mean… dream visitation?"
"Yes. I want to enter someone's dream and ask them to send the golden needle of Lachesis down here to the Underworld."
I'd heard that some souls in the Underworld were granted the rare ability to appear in dreams of the living—to communicate and make requests. I figured if anyone in this realm knew how that worked, it'd be the most cunning mind in Hades: Sisyphus.
He looked at me suspiciously. "If I heard you right, you said you wanted someone to send the Fates' golden needle to the Underworld. And how exactly is this someone going to do that? Tell me—are they supposed to die and bring the needle down personally? Hand it over to you at the gates?"
"It's not that hard," I replied. "It's just like how people send an obolus to the dead—to pay the ferryman."
"You're telling me," Sisyphus said with a half-sneer, "that you're going to have someone up there put the golden needle in your mouth and perform a death rite so it gets sent to you here?"
"Yes," I nodded.
"And how do I know you won't just run off with the needle once you have it—leave me stuck here and cursed?" he challenged.
"I told you already, King of Corinth," I replied firmly. "I swear upon the River Styx—if you tell me how to enter someone's dream, I'll help lift your curse."
Sisyphus smiled, and the look he gave me made my stomach sink. That smile said I'd already fallen into one of his traps. And honestly? I didn't trust him—not one bit. Almost everyone who made a deal with Sisyphus met a bitter end. But there was no better option. Freeing him from his curse might be the only shortcut out of this hellhole for Craby and me. After all, Sisyphus was one of the few who could defy Thanatos—the god of death himself—as if swatting away a fly.
"Well," Sisyphus said at last, "I don't actually know how to visit someone's dreams."
The hope drained from my face at those words from the trickster king.
"Oh, oh, oh—don't give me that look, background character," he teased. "While I might not know how to do it, I do know someone who can tell you how."
"Really? Who?" My hope flickered back to life.
"You really want to know?" Sisyphus grinned wickedly.
I nodded in response.
"Hm… if you really want to know, I'll tell you. But only when…"
The word but coming from Sisyphus's mouth was never a good sign. The cunning king was clearly about to spring something—and it wouldn't be anything pleasant.
"But what?"