Page 147 of Immortal Sun

I tell my feet to move.

They do not.

I tell my heart to freeze.

It heats.

And I tell my soul it’s not worth the cost.

It soars.

Her hands graze me again. “We don’t know.” I clear my throat. “The consequences of more, Cleo. I don’t know. There’s a reason I haven’t—just know there’s a reason.”

“Am I unleashing a beast, then?” She grips me hard.

I moan, throwing my head back. I know my eyes have gone dark as power radiates through my body. “You will be unleashing the end, Cleo. Don’t test me. I froze my heart to keep myself safe, yes, but it wasn’t just for me, it was for you. I can’t. I can’t.”

“You promise you’ll still save Jake?”

I look away, tears blurring my vision. “You know I will.”

“And you’ll make it painless?” She gazes up at me, pleading in her eyes. “You’ll find me in my next life? Right?”

A tear slides down my cheek and lands on hers. “There isn’t any other way, Cleo. We sacrifice the little to save the few. I’ll ascend to the mountains. My trial will be complete so while I won’t be by your side, I’ll be in your sky, constantly watching over you.”

She nods. “Okay, promise you’ll be with me until the end.”

“Until the end.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Let me sacrifice Jake instead, I’ll find a way even if he isn’t the one meant for it, I’ll find one.” I leave out the part where it would be basically impossible, but I’m not thinking logically. I just want her here, and Jake, while not the chosen twin to sacrifice would at least buy me time. The even sadder part is I know I’m lying to myself, there are always twins. One is meant for sacrifice, the other is meant to ascend. It cannot switch and shouldn’t go against the cosmos.

I want to scream. I’m grasping at straws. Lying to myself. To her.

“Never,” she says interrupting my internal thoughts. “It should be this way. Let me just imagine I’m Juliet and you’re Romeo.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“So is Inti.”

“True.” He laughs. “I’ll search the world for you and shine bright on your face.”

“You better.” Tears fill her eyes. “Will I remember?”

He shakes his head. “No, you’ll remember nothing.”

“Can I? Can you give me that much at least? The gift of knowing your kiss and touch?”

“You’re not asking for a gift but for turmoil, pain, always searching, never finding, what sort of benevolent immortal would do that?”

“You’re an ass.”

“It would be a kindness, forgetting me.”

“It would be torture not knowing you.”

He falters. “I’ll leave something for you, something you’ll want to find, and when you find it, you’ll have your memories back. Does that sound like a fair bet?”

“It’s not a bet.”

“A promise then? I’ll leave you with part of me, so that when you see me again you recognize me.”

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