Page 34 of Immortal Sun

“Not everyone is like that, some of us focus on life.”

We start walking toward the steps. Even though it’s freezing, the sun burns down toward us, stretching its rays and reminding me yet again of the time and what’s to come. “And you?” I ask her. “Do you focus on life?”

Her cheeks flush pink. “I try as much as I can. Sometimes you can only take it a day at a time though, you know?”

“Your days as a human are limited.” I may be a monster but I’m always honest. We stop in front of the stairs as a crow flies over head, circling us, then the museum. I count the circles. Six times.

Even creation knows.

If only people were more observant of their surroundings. Ptah, one of the creators is watching and warning me.She’s the last, stay focused, do your job.

Cleo grabs my arm. “What do you mean my days are limited?”

I frown. “Cleo, everyone’s days are, you’re human.”

“So are you,” she says quickly as if to reassure herself.

I crack a smile. “We all have limits when it comes to time.”

She seems satisfied with that answer and turns toward the cement stairs leading up to the museum. The steps are painted in hieroglyphics that would only mean something to the locals and simple translations for someone with her.

I know the sad pathetic truth. They’re painted with the failures of the immortals that roam this town. The immortals that nobody will discuss.

Inti, who is my counterpart, part of the sky, the sun, he failed and now he is the last light humans see as he guides them to Anubis; they walk for days and then the light simply stops. He is their last warmth, and that is his punishment for failing.

Daggon, chief protector of Mesopotamia, creator; he still won’t tell anyone what he failed to protect and now he’s the chief of police.

And Enki, from Sumeria, God of Wisdom, Art, Mischief, Creativity—one of my best friends who revealed he fell in love with humanity so much he chose to fail in order to stay.

There are more, Aphrodite, Nyx.

I look away when I see Suen’s name. We still haven’t located her, but every time the moon rises, I hear her tears. She failed her trial on the last day—she saved a child from drowning in the tide and gave up her spot on Olympus because of it—the child she saved went on to become a world leader.

And yet, she still sobs when the moon is at its brightest. Humans don’t understand that when it turns red it is because her tears burn her from within and tears, emotions, they must be felt and expressed, no matter how you were created.

No matter what, a trial, a darkness will always come. Apep will always chase.

It has, it will, he will.

I look up as the sky swirls darker, the crow is long gone and in its place a menacing storm is coming. Figuratively and naturally.

How incredible that the very earth knows, the mountains moan and rumble, the sea shakes with fury, and yet everyone goes about their selfish daily ways without realizing that the sound of the cries from the very earth that they came from, are a warning.

Earthquakes.

Floods.

Fires.

Windstorms.

Death.

Destruction.

Did they think they were so powerful to create all of that themselves?

Cleo smiles over at me as she keeps looking at the stairs then grabs my arm like we’re friends. It’s a normal human reaction to be drawn to something warm on your skin and face, to stretch for the sun is as normal as reaching for the stars—they can’t help instinct.

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