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ROMAN PAGAN SHORT FICTION
The Infernal River
Beneath the waterfallβs roar lies a secret older than Rome itself.
October, Anno DCCII Ab Urbe Condita (A.U.C.)
October, 52 BCE
The late-afternoon sun beat down on the rocky plains of Baetica, casting shimmering waves over the Baetis River. Titus Severus, an opportunistic merchant, had chosen this remote route to avoid taxes at the port, his wagon laden with jars of fragrant olive oil and amphorae of wine. Flanked by his nervously talkative slave, Callistus. ππΎ
They first smelled it β an acrid, biting scent that stung the nose. Callistus sniffed the air nervously. ππ₯
βMaster, is something burning?β he asked, his voice pitched higher than usual.
βImpossible,β Titus said, with a theatrical sigh. βThereβs no town for miles. Unless, of course, Vulcanus has decided to roast his dinner over an open flame out here.β He smirked, thoroughly enjoying the way Callistus flinched at the mention of divine mischief. ππ₯
But as they rounded the bend, Titusβs humor evaporated. The river was on fire. ππ₯
Flames licked the surface of the water, crackling and spitting as if the Baetis itself were venting some ancient grudge. Black smoke coiled upward, blotting out the serene blue sky. π«οΈβ‘
Callistus crossed himself reflexively, only to freeze mid-motion and glance at Titus inβ¦
