Page 41 of Immortal Sun (Dark Olympus)

CHAPTER 41

CYRUS

“A sword age, a wind age, a wolf age. No longer is there mercy among men.” – Snorri Sturluson

I told her she wasn’t special.

She was the most special.

And I lied to her over and over again. It’s all I can think about as I walk toward The Tree of Life and Death.

Maybe her gift as a demigod was seeing my true likeness, maybe her gift was finding my humanity when I’d given up on myself.

I don’t look back.

Immortals await me at the tree.

Anubis inclines his head. “Did you need me to walk with you?”

“I know the way,” I rasp. “All too well.”

“It gets dark.”

“I am the light,” I snap back.

Anubis nods and snaps his fingers as The Tree of Life and Death lights on fire, singeing from the ground up but not dying and just like that angels land in front of the tree, surrounding it. They wear gold armor and carry golden swords. Anubis just summoned The Watchers, the most ancient guardians of the different corners of the earth. I’ve never had the honor of seeing them in full armor. I swallow back the lump in my throat. They’re protecting my journey.

Anubis pats me on the back. “I know you tolerate me at best, but I called in a favor. Want to know something funny, though?”

“What?” I can barely speak.

She’s lost in the underworld. She won’t reincarnate, and we’re at war.

“They were already sending them.”

“Wh-what?” I stammer.

A man appears in front of me, his hair is black except for one stripe of red in the very front. He inclines his head. “A gift, for your journey into the darkness, Lord of the Sky—Immortal Sun.”

“Why do you look familiar?” I ask.

He smiles wide. “Because when The Watchers fell, I tried to create a demon army, destroy the world and all around rebel against the Creator and yet, a star still chose to fall for me, Anubis chose to fight for me, and in the end, an archangel offered to die for me, so you see, there is always a way. I have finally found mine, and in that, I would like to give you something.” He holds out his hand and flips it over. “Let her guide you. Aurora, you may now fall.”

Nothing happens at first, and then all at once a light as bright as the sun appears. The woman has silver hair and blue eyes, she’s wearing a black dress that pools at her feet and falls down her shoulders. She couldn’t be more than eighteen.

“Hello, Ra, I’ve so enjoyed watching your journey, now let me sacrifice so you may continue it.” She bows in front of me. “I’m Aurora and I have fallen for you.”

“Fallen?”

“One of the oldest stars,” Anubis says. “She’s been guiding you during these trials, watching, waiting—her last task will be as your light only when you find Cleo will her task be finished.

“But she’ll die!” I yell. “Aurora, the point of human trials, the point of all of this is to ascend to be in Olympus.” Her laugh cuts me off. “What?”

“For being so old, you’re quite stupid sometimes, Lord of the Sky. Oh, to be that young again.” She sighs. “Power does not keep the sun warm at night, power is nothing, ruling is nothing, without humanity, don’t you understand? Failing the trials means winning at your life, one you get to choose. Now, let’s find Cleo so you can come back and fight a little Chaos. Don’t worry, they can hold him off for a while. Besides, destiny will always happen regardless of how much we fight it.”

Stunned I simply stare at her. But I failed.

Anubis slaps me on the shoulder. “Go, just leave your spear, might have to use it a few times.” He winks and hands me his sword. “Be careful, she’s…tricky down there,”

“When you’re stuck in the underworld you tend to go a bit insane,” Cassius suddenly appears by my side, and agrees.

Aurora grins at me, her skin burns bright. “Shall we?”

“Thank you,” I whisper to Anubis then nod to Cassius.

Cassius returns my nod. “Hurry, we do need you and you need her.”

I turn away from my army and stare at the pulsing tree. So begins my descent into the underworld.

I press my hand against the tree and twist to the right, it unlocks, dust falls from the trunk, three stairways remain.

Aurora doesn’t speak she takes the middle; she knows the path.

It’s the darkest.

The hottest for any normal immortal.

And I follow.

I walk until my legs burn. The hot air torments my face, ash falls like a cloud around me, each particle is sharp and constantly nicks me only for my skin to heal where it’s been hit.

For hours, I pass prisons embedded in the great mountain. Humans reach for me. All of them are starving for food, water, light, and peace. But there is no peace in this place, only suffering, and their suffering matches what they did in their own realm. Every circle of hell is organized into circles of cells. The greatest cell of all holds the God Killer. Even now I hear his moans, though he’s encased in ice and stone in the middle of hell. The stairs go in a clockwise motion around and around for miles. There is no sunlight, only the stench of starvation and death, the moans of the humans, and the screams of trapped immortals to be set free.

Shouts of “Ra!” sound, until the entire prison is yelling my name in unison as I walk. I refuse to make eye contact knowing what I’ll see, scars on their arms, festering wounds that close only to open again from itching the scabs. Dirty fingers reach through the bars, I give them no mind. Their future is set as is mine.

When I finally reach the last stair, I step over its crumbling dusty cement and stand on the icy black ground. It’s been a day, possibly more, of traveling into the underworld’s depths.

The ground is hard, cold, the air dry and punishing with giant cracks dividing it over and over again.

The golden throne in front of me, placed under the only scrap of sunlight present, is surrounded with flowers, and a beautiful garden full of food the prisoners will never touch or have.

A waterfall branches from three directions out of the tree into five large pools surrounding it—roses bloom around her large seat. Nine stairs lead to the top.

And there she sits.

Hecate.

Half of her head is braided back into pristine white braids, the other is purple-black and dirty. Likewise, half her face looks like an angel, the other half is scarred from my blade, directly down the middle resting just below her chin.

I hold my head high and grip my sword. “Hecate.”

She stands and crosses her arms. “Immortal Sun.”

“I need your help.”

Her smile is cruel as she leans forward and whispers, “I’m listening.”