Page 32 of Immortal Sun (Dark Olympus)

CHAPTER 32

CLEO

“Good to love good things when all goes according to thy heart’s desire.”– Volsunga, ch.28

I don’t know what the hell just happened, or if maybe this is all a weird dream, and I’m in a coma, but Bast is sitting on my bed again, snoring.

Dag is staring out at the water.

And Cyrus just made me see heaven and hell all at once. He’s tortured. That makes two of us. I die soon. Would it be so bad to die in his arms again and again? Until we’re sick with the pleasure of it all?

I grab the quill and keep writing names down on the ancient parchment. It’s a painful process. My hand aches. There are so many names. My siblings. Ones created to store Chaos’s power and create an army. I don’t know what I feel, but with each name I know there’s a story and it hurts to wonder what they left behind knowing exactly what I’ll be leaving as well.

I don’t stop until I have three hundred. The checkerboard is on the floor from our game. The pieces scattered in the dirt.

I wonder if he realizes how beautiful he is when he’s in his full immortal form. I was petrified at first and then I realized he was showing me himself—truly, really, who he was. It hurt to choke back the tears of the pain I saw of how he must have roamed around the earth for who knows how long. Alone. Does the sun feel love? Can it? When people always rely on it to shine down? Do people thank it? Understand it? No probably not. The sun still rises each day no matter what. But do they realize it’s because he made it so? He is the sun itself. The one we look at in the sky is just a part of him. And yet he’s walked in how much darkness. Isolated. Waiting. To finally kill me.

This was all about saving Jake, so why do I feel like I need to save the very one who helped create the worlds? Why do I feel like this is bigger than a sacrifice? That Cyrus, or rather Ra, needs someone to hold his hand too?

It’s all so confusing that I have a headache.

When I do finally feel tired, it’s super late, or maybe I should say early in the morning. I fall asleep with the sunrise, facing Bast, and petting her like my own therapy cat, even though she’s terrifyingly huge. She really doesn’t do much but stare at me, sleep, and protect me when she needs to.

Protection from what, though? Myself? From the other immortals? In my opinion, they’re all monsters in their own way, and they all have their reasons. I could also argue that they’re heroes to others. Why else would they purposefully fail to stay and help the balance between immortals and humans?

My thoughts are disturbing; they’re of the flames in Cyrus’s eyes, the sadness in Daggon’s, the resolution in Inti’s, and finally the trickery in Enki’s. Kratos is a whole different story.

It’s like a freaking Christmas Carol from hell in here with all the visits from the gods and Tyrell hasn’t even stopped by yet, so help me. Apparently, there are more that want to toss in their vote, it all sounds so archaic and wrong and yet I’m getting a gift.

“Don’t pick me.” A voice wakes me up from my sleep, from my weird dreams. “Please.”

I jolt awake and see Apep standing there in a three-piece black suit, his golden-white hair swept back, aviators on, looking every bit the businessman. He even has a cane with a snake twisted around it. The serpent is blood red and weirdly evil looking.

“What?” I rub my eyes. “Why are you suddenly here?”

“Don’t pick me.” He repeats it. “I demand it.” Like I would. I almost laugh, he’s beautiful but there is no attraction there. “I know you know the stories, just know, to pick me on the night of the eclipse would be the worst possible thing you could do. Besides, you’re too young.”

I roll my eyes. “And everyone else is old just like you.”

“Ancient, actually.” He smooths a nonexistent wrinkle on his suit and looks back at the water. “Daggon would be a good choice, an easy one. You’ve met Tyrell previously, he’s another good choice, a lesser god compared to the rest, but you could still pick him. I’d stay away from Inti and Enki; you don’t want to get chased and you truly do not want to get tricked.”

“So basically my only choices are Tyrell and Daggon? I don’t even want to choose.” I groan. “What the hell is wrong with you people, and I thought you were the nice one. Maybe I just want to die peacefully.”

Apep grins. “To answer your third question---so many perverse things are wrong with this situation. With the trials. The immortals, the gods. ” Why does it feel like he’s proud of it? “And I am the nice one, never forget that; no matter what we will save Jake, if he truly is where Cyrus says he is, then at least there’s hope that your sacrifice will mean something. I’ll try my hardest, Cleo. I won’t let you down. I just need you to trust me.”

“I do.” I nod. “You’re probably the only one I fully do trust.”

He smiles wide. “Good. Just know, everything I do for you and for the greater good, there is no higher calling.”

I nod, a tear escapes. “This is hard.”

He moves over to the bed and sits on it, then pulls me into his arms and lets me cry. “I’ll be there until the end, Cleo. Know that I’ll always be there. No matter what it takes.”

I look down. He has a gold ring on his right finger that glints as he continues to hug me. It somehow matches his cane. He stops hugging me and pulls away. “Pick one of them, you’ll be satisfied, happy even. Allow yourself to experience what it’s like to be in ecstasy with an immortal for once in your life, besides any of their power and energy will give you peace like you’ll never know.”

I’m afraid to ask but I do anyway. “And who are you supposed to be? If I’m to believe all of this? Chaos itself?”

It’s an educated guess.

“Chaos, such an ass,” he jokes. “You think you have us all figured out, hmm?” He pulls back and winks. “I am Apep, yes, but just because my ancient name is Chaos doesn’t mean shit in this situation.” He swings his cane around and around and laughs harder. “You know, I knew it would be interesting this time, but not this interesting.”

“What?”

“Winning,” he says on an exhale. “See you at the eclipse. I believe you have one day left since Cyrus doesn’t need to keep preparing you for what’s to come. Learn about Tyrell today, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before exiting the cave.

“What the hell was that?” I grab the parchment to keep myself focused and continue writing more names. Dag pops in and out with food for me, but since our encounter he’s been silent like he’s afraid to look at me or touch me. I even ask him if he wants to play cards or something.

He says he doesn’t know how and bolts out of the cave like I’m poison.

The sea is clearly having a tantrum too. It won’t stop hitting the cliffs like it wants to fight, and I swear I see a creature near the island, but maybe I’ve just been writing names too long and am losing it. My vision is blurry, and I’m exhausted.

By the time Cyrus shows up I just want to take a nap.

He’s in his usual jeans and a T-shirt. He holds out his hand. “Come.”

I walk toward him and take hold of his hand.

“Apep has always been out of the question. Sorry for not telling you sooner. I’ll teach you about Tyrell.” He sighs. “But I figured you could use a walk.”

“Can Bast come?” I ask looking back at the cat’s eager expression.

Cyrus heaves a sigh then shrugs. “Sure, just tell her not to kill anyone.”

“Bast, don’t kill anyone,” I say right away.

She seems to literally roll her eyes and then joins us as we leave the cave.

Kratos is guarding today again; he’s holding his daggers tightly in his grip.

“So…” I try to keep it casual as we walk along the beach. I’m barefoot, Bast is running ahead of us and jumping into the sky—for birds maybe? I can’t tell, but she’s excited. If she wasn’t so huge and panther-like, I’d think she was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

She jumps one more time; her jaws get a seagull and she swallows. I stumble, but Cyrus grabs my arm and holds me up, all smiles. “She really hates birds.”

She’s chomping down on the last piece of bird, and when she runs back to us I swear I see a white feather poking out of her mouth.

“Wow.” I manage to choke one word out. “Maybe try a magpie next time?”

Bast tilts her head like she’s truly thinking about it, then bounds ahead of us again.

“She likes you.” Cyrus’s smile is so open and free that I’m almost convinced this is just a walk between a gorgeous man and the girl that was always supposed to be here having a blind date taking a stroll on the beach.

Instead, I’m with immortals.

One holds the sun in the palm of his hand—while holding mine.

And my brother’s life is at stake along with the chaos of the world.

There is no end of what’s to come only what’s been told to me. His left hand is shoved into his pocket as he walks, and I’m weirded out when each footprint made into the sand slowly fades back as if he was never there.

When I turn around there’s only one set of footprints, mine. “Why aren’t your footprints showing up in the sand?” I stumble forward in shock. He grabs me by the elbow and helps me keep my feet under me before I fall.

The waves aren’t even touching us, and his footprints are nonexistent.

I look down at his bare feet. Sand almost floats around his feet, rising and falling like the tides.

Bast completely ignores us, most likely in search of an approved bird, and Cyrus is still holding onto my elbow.

Slowly he releases me and goes down to his knees and presses a palm against the sand. “Do you know why there’s so much of it all over the world?”

“Sand?” I’m so confused, which seems to be my MO ever since coming to this place. Who wouldn’t be? Everything needs an explanation and even then, with those explanations unless they terrify you into believing it, it’s hard to swallow.

He picks up a tiny, nearly impossible-to-see grain of sand, and it flickers in the moonlight. “I refuse to desecrate the dead that have passed. Human bodies return to the dirt, but the dirt, the sand has memory. It remembers its creator. Some might say it’s part of me, just like you are. Some are trapped in the waters, the other realms, the underworld even, but most return to the earth later to be blessed by the Nile.” He walks over to the water.

Stunned, I follow him as he sets the grain of sand in the waves. I’m having a full-on Moana moment when the water parts for him only to splash at him as he walks and walks until he should be waist deep. He releases the sand into the sea and comes back toward me, then freezes.

I don’t realize I’m standing in the water or that water is lapping around my legs until it’s too late.

His eyes flash.

And the waves, while not touching him at all, crash around me, arms pull at me, hands tug my hair.

I want to scream but know if I do, I’ll drown. I squeeze my eyes shut.

He’ll save me, right?

He wouldn’t let me die like this?

I’m starting to black out when strong arms pry me free and toss me onto the beach until my body bounces against the sand.

“Idiot!” he screams right in my face. “Do you know what could have happened to you?”

“That’s not a normal ocean.” I choke out some water and wipe my mouth.

“You think?” He paces in front of me. “What did I say? You have to be careful. Nature senses your sacrifice and the underworld would be more than happy to pull you down with it, the souls in the ocean around Mount Olympus have not yet found their rest, they will grab at anything they can.”

“I didn’t realize I was following you!” I scream back at him, terrified that ocean ghosts just tried to kill me. “It’s not like I want to drown!”

He puts his hands on his hips then sits next to me on the sand; he doesn’t kick it, but I can tell he kind of wants a bit of violence right now.

The water is back to being peaceful as if nothing ever happened. It’s glass, reflecting the stars.

I’m petrified, even more than when he first told me who he was, even more than last night. Seeing him use his power like that makes things more real, tangible.

“Why are there souls in the water—in Styx” I finally ask.

He stares out at the water, body tense. “It’s a choice, one you’ll never unmake, just stay away from what you can’t control. Even some of the strongest immortals will spend years fighting the currents of the underworld in an effort to get out.”

“Why would they even go in?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Enki likes to play tricks. He finds it amusing when they drown but never die in an effort to get back to the ground.” He shrugs. “I’m kidding. Though Enki does like to play tricks out of pure boredom.” He sighs. “Souls, even ones deceased, cannot help but fight. It’s the human way.”

“First off, you’re all very dysfunctional.” I take a deep breath. “Second, I did always wonder why the power to fight was so strong. I guess now I know.” I rest my chin on my knees. It’s not as cold anymore. I wonder if that’s because I’m next to Cyrus or if it’s just another sign of my impending doom; the universe grants me warmth mere days before my death. How benevolent.

He barks out a laugh. “Yes, we are.” He nudges me. “But I’m not so bad, right?”

“No, person who’s going to murder me, you’re sadly the best out of all of them.”

He preens like it was a compliment, then his smile falters. “There is one that you might enjoy now that Apep’s taken himself out of festivities.”

“Yeah, I know, Daggon.”

“Not Dag.” Cyrus clenches his hands into fists. “Tyrell. While he can be an asshole to everyone, during the festival he gets obsessed with a woman’s pleasure to the point that he’ll go for hours. One time the eclipse nearly ended and he was still pleasuring the sacrifice.” He frowns and looks down at his hands. “He fought me afterwards, said she was different. I think he formed a bond with her. He didn’t speak to me for twenty years after that. He knew it was necessary, but he still mourns her, I think.”

“Wasn’t she reincarnated?”

“Ah, that.” He gets serious, and stares out at the sea, then picks up a grain of sand. “Not one of these are the same, did you know that? Every grain of sand is different. You go back to where you came from, Cleo, but you will never come back the same. He searched for her, and it was like meeting a stranger. He tried to date her, seduce her, he did everything in his power, even using some of his power. It was too much for her to process. It, um, made her think she was crazy. She got drunk and drove into a tree.”

I gasp. “What?”

“We can’t interfere with humans. Her brain couldn’t process it, her soul didn’t recognize his, and in the end, his love and obsession for her was his downfall—his emotional death.”

I think of Dag and start to panic a bit; he said I was the downfall, the death.

So that leaves Dag out.

Inti just gives me dad vibes even though he’s sexy. Apep turned me down. Enki would probably poison me.

It’s Tyrell or Kratos.

Maybe in my last moments I can help him forget his heavy heart and bad memories. Maybe that can be my gift. Maybe he can imagine even, that I’m her so he has the ending he wants, not the destruction.

I look down at the sand and briefly mourn the woman’s life lost and whisper against the wind and waves. “Tyrell it is.”

I swear I can feel the intensity rolling off Cyrus in waves.

“Good.” He dusts his hands. “Good.” His eyes won’t meet mine, but his jaw is clenched tightly. He’s beautiful in the moonlight.

Slowly, I inch my hand across the sand and place it on his.

I expect him to jerk away.

To yell at me.

Instead, he grips it in his and continues to watch the waves. “We all make sacrifices for the greater good, Cleo. This is yours.”

So why does it feel like it’s his too?