Page 34 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)
We take cover beneath the colossal, gaping jaws of the Orcus.
Wringing the water from my hair, I move to the center of what I now see as the physical manifestation of both Orsini’s historic sorrow and Arthur’s enduring grief.
“Arthur is a collector, a curator,” I begin, struggling to put my intuition into words. “But despite all his money and power, there’s one thing he can never buy—” I turn to face Braxton. “Love. He can’t buy love,” I repeat. “Or at least not the real kind. That’s what the Monster Garden is about—a grand ode to a great love once found and then tragically lost.”
Braxton nods, encouraging me to continue.
“But it goes even deeper,” I say. “Arthur isn’t merely a collector. He’s a true connoisseur. His pursuit of beauty isn’t just a passion—it’s an obsession. He’s poured all his money and energy into constructing this world where he’s surrounded by it, immersed in it, like a balm for his deep-seated heartache. But while Arthur may be a world-class collector. He’s not a creator. He can’t paint like da Vinci, can’t sculpt like Michelangelo, can’t compose like Beethoven or Mozart. Despite his so-called unsurpassed vision, he lacks the talent to create on the level of the masters he reveres. Can you imagine how badly that must sting for someone like him—someone who’s never satisfied with anything short of perfection?”
Braxton’s eyes widen, caught up in the story I weave.
“To him, society is a herd of lemmings, hurtling toward mediocrity, content to feast on the mundane. After ushering life-changing technology into the world, believing it would expand our horizons, he’s left to watch in dismay as it becomes a tool of isolation and division. It spreads harmful images and fills our heads with so much false and conflicting information, we can no longer distinguish truths from lies. Despite his impact, he’s haunted by the world’s inevitable sorrows—tragedy, death, and grief—all things he can neither control nor change. But, by restoring the Antikythera Mechanism, he believes he’s found a way to rectify these wrongs. He’s disillusioned with the divine—convinced that God, the universe, whoever’s in charge, has let humanity down. In Arthur’s mind, he possesses a superior understanding of what humankind truly needs. The mural over his desk makes it clear he thinks he can do better.”
Braxton’s gaze holds steady on mine. “ The Creation of Adam ,” he whispers, affirming the gravity of our conversation.
“By restoring the Antikythera Mechanism,” I continue, “Arthur believes he can rewrite his life’s script, give himself a better, more Hollywood ending.”
“Luckily for us,” Braxton says, a hint of resolve in his voice, “we still have years to sort this all out. Like you said, there are loads of pieces left to uncover.”
Regrettably, I have to dash his hope. “Except that’s no longer true.” I watch Braxton’s face closely as I relay everything that’s happened, all that I’ve learned since I last saw him.
“So, he’s discovered a shortcut,” Braxton repeats, eyes wide with realization.
“And any day now,” I continue, “he’s going to send me out to fetch him the Star.”
The spark in Braxton’s eyes fades as he processes everything I just said.
“And when he does,” I continue, “I’m going to be ready for it.”
“But how?” he asks, his brow furrowing, jaw clenching.
I break away from him and turn to the wall, tracing my fingers along the cool, damp interior of the Orcus’s mouth. When I come to a spot that seems to vibrate under my touch, I flatten my palm to the rock wall. Remembering what my dad taught me, I close my eyes, take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and try to merge with its energy.
A burst of excitement shoots through me as the wall begins to shake.
Let go of whatever it is you hope to see , my father said. Let the vision unfold on its own.
Only this time, there’s no vision. The wall continues to quiver and quake, seeming to give way beneath my weight.
“Tasha,” Braxton says, “look!”
I open my eyes to find this seemingly immovable slab of stone yielding under my hand. Mirroring the hidden mechanism in my dad’s New York City apartment, the stone instantly shifts, revealing a doorway to an entirely new realm.
Together, Braxton and I step over the threshold into a breathtaking space.
The moment we cross deeper into the room, the hidden door seals shut, plunging us into a world of darkness.