Page 29 of Immortal Sun

The food tastes stale.

It always does.

You eat to survive. That’s something I’ve learned. You do not eat for pleasure; pleasure draws you astray more than anything. It’s why there are lines even I don’t cross. I never have. My self-control is one of the reasons I am who I am, without it—I shudder to even think what would happen.

I watch Cleo out of the corner of my eye while I sip my coffee. She touches the walls with care, with love, as if she’s seen them before.

Many have, they just don’t remember. That’s what Chaos does to you after all, it’s why she should not exist. She was the last brought into this world twenty-six years ago and so she will return, how tragic, if only she’d been born two minutes before her brother, then Chaos’s power would have gone into him—not her. Mere minutes and her life would have been given to her freely. Mere minutes.

It will be a kindness, like showing mercy to the tiny little ant that thinks it has purpose before squashing it beneath your shoe.

I wonder if she’ll faint like everyone else. I’m sure all the trapped immortals here in this end of the city are already taking bets. I’m completely convinced that Anubis and Cassius already have a running pot in Seattle at SYN one of Anubis’s competing bars, in the actual nice part of the city. Sometimes I hate that demon.

I get up when she makes her way around the corner, curious as to what she’s going to say about the décor.

My boots click against the hardwood floor, people look up from their tables and nod in my direction.

Lesser gods, stuck here having failed their trials, know when to honor one going through it. They touch their finger just below their right eye—the Eye of Ra and casually get back to their meals. They know I am almost finished—they know that I will ascend to my place while they will forever be stuck here.

I’m thankful they waited until Cleo was out of sight.

They typically wait when it comes to outsiders, but some are forgetful, especially the younger ones who don’t really even know their own history—just that they have to respect the old immortals, specifically the ones that are actively in their human trials like myself.

Lights flicker as I walk toward the restroom area and the final hallway that leads to the manager’s office.

Cleo is leaning as close as she can to the wall, intently examining the wood and frowning. She shakes her head, then grabs her phone from her back pocket and begins typing furiously on it like the phone personally offended her in some way. “No, no, that can’t be right.”

“What can’t?” I casually lean against the opposing wall.

She jumps a foot, nearly dropping her phone to the floor before tapping the screen again. “You scared the hell out of me.”

She still doesn’t look up but points at the wall in frustration. “Is this a joke?”

I take a step toward her. “That depends. Is it funny?”

“Laughable, actually.” She seems pissed. “I mean this is your place, right? And you’re the CEO of Raaiden, it doesn’t make sense that you’d put this up here.”

Ah, so it’s going to go that way. Of course.

She taps her finger against the wall as if I can’t see it. “This isn’t accurate. Why would everything be accurate in the decorations but this?”

“And the ‘this’ you’re referring to?” I play dumb and walk closer until I’m a foot away from her pointed stare and palpable annoyance.

She points at the wall again. “Osiris was good, faithful. He saved his people—and Ra, well Ra basically did nothing but get chased by Chaos. If anything, Ra just looked down on humanity and watched after fighting off the end of the world over and over again. The— the?—”

What’s this feeling in my chest? Mild annoyance? Is this what getting insulted by a human feels like? I’m trying not to get irritated but the more she talks about the “myths” and what she “knows,” the angrier I become, the more I want to take her back to the house and shove her into the mouth of the cave where she belongs. Let her learn her lessons in real time, with real monsters and heroes and see how she reacts. History does, after all, repeat itself, and quite often people are too stupid to listen every single time it does. Myths? Sure, I’ll let her get away with saying that for today. It will make the ending so much sweeter. They say that the more you terrify people, the more you can control them; fear, after all is the greatest power some have—and I have enough to give for an eternity. A blessing? Absolutely. A curse? Naturally. I nod my head as she keeps talking as if I give a rat’s ass that she’s upset over something she knows little to nothing about. I calm the rage within and draw in a deep breath.

“…and Ra didn’t save the world. He went to the underworld to keep the serpent from making sure the sun didn’t rise. It was a made-up story for people to be able to understand the sun and the moon. Basically, out of all the stories I’ve read here, the one that seems the least realistic is the story of Ra. Osiris I can understand, Apollo and Mars? Sure.”

“Ah, are you Egyptian then?” I snap, interrupting her. “That you would know so much aboutourhistory.”

Cleo winces. “Let me guess…you’re, um…”

“Egyptian.” I snap. “So, before you start putting down the silliest stories of them all,” I lean in and tap her on the temple. “Use what the gods you disrespect gave you.”

She hangs her head. “Sorry, I got caught up, maybe it’s because it pisses me off more than it should, when gods get glorified for nature or when they get praise. The moon causes gravity, right? And yet we have a God of the Moon, a God of the Sun. It’s science, so while I love reading stories it’s escapism to me, nothing more and I think it’s cruel.”

“Cruel?”

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