Page 76 of Fading Sun

“Correct. Second question: Who were Helios’s parents?”

“Hyperion and Theia.”

After the question about Apollo’s parents, I’d been reminding myself of Helios’s parents like a broken record.

“Correct,” the Buddha says, and relief floods through my veins.

No more questions for me.

I can release all the random facts about Helios from my mind.

Damien next. He should have no problem remembering his answers, since he apparently knew all about these gods before we got here.

I look to him, and worry flows through me.

Because he’s kneeling on the floor, curled up, burying his face in his elbow so he can block the light with his sleeve.

He’s so still that he looks like he’s about to break.

And I’ve never viewed Damien as someone who could break—ever.

Amber

Damien’s vampire senses make him more sensitive to light than the others. It’s like the Buddha chose this sun punishment to hurt Damien specifically.

I glance up at the windows.

There has to be something I can do…

Another clang of the gong.

Morgan cries out in pain.

“Damien,” the Buddha says when the gong quiets down. “What are the three sacred treasures of Japan that are associated with Amaterasu? Say them in both English and Japanese.”

Japanese?

That’s not fair. It’s a lot harder than the other questions.

But the question’s difficulty isn’t our biggest problem. Because Damien doesn’t stand up. He just stays where he is, on the floor, paralyzed by the light.

Did he even hear the question?

“Damien!” I call out, but it’s like he doesn’t hear me.

I glance up at the light streaming in through the windows, and it hits me.

What if…?

Not wanting to overthink it, I extend my hand, letting my sun magic flow out of me. I’ve never used my magic to create shadows before, but now, I reach deep within myself, commanding the light to dim.

At first, I’m not sure it’s going to work.

Then, a shadier spot forms around Damien, the harsh beams of light softening into a protective canopy as I reflect them away from him.

The shadow settles around him, and he looks up, his eyes meeting mine. He’s squinting—it’s going to take time for his eyes to readjust—but at least he seems like he’s able to think again.

“Amber…” He gazes around at the shadows blocking the light, then turns back to me. “Thank you.”

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