Page 130 of Immortal Sun

But right now, I just want to move inside her, to feel her thighs clench tightly around me, for her to say my real name, to whisper “Ra” in my ear, and truly want me for what I am and who I am even if that means right now, I feel like a monster.

She falls apart against my tongue, I taste, I devour, I eat.

Panting, I pull away so hard that my armor is protesting.

Her eyes are blurry when she looks at me, her lips parted, her legs still open wide.

I pull away and give her my back. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the last two trainings and then we’ll attend the festival.”

“Wait—”

I walk away.

I walk out of that cave.

I’m undone. What has she done? Who am I? What am I doing?

I keep walking. My feet dig into the sand. I stare up at the moon. And finally, I see the stars shine down.

Another tear spills. This wasn’t supposed to be how it ends.

Daggon says nothing, but I can sense he wants to in the way he’s watching me, and when I step on the first cement stair to go back to the manor he whispers. “Your death, Ra. Mine too.”

I’m hollow.

Broken.

A needy weak god that wants nothing but to run back into that cave and saveher, not the world.

I lower my head and keep walking while the waves crash against the sand, and in the corner of my eye, I spot a giant tentacle reaching into the sky like it wants the stars and slams onto the ocean.

“I know,” I whisper. “I know.”

I swear I can hear Ken say,“No, ancient one, you have no idea what is coming.”

CHAPTER 32

CLEO

“Good to love good things when all goes according to thy heart’s desire.”– Volsunga, ch.28

Idon’t know what the hell just happened, or if maybe this is all a weird dream, and I’m in a coma, but Bast is sitting on my bed again, snoring.

Dag is staring out at the water.

And Cyrus just made me see heaven and hell all at once. He’s tortured. That makes two of us. I die soon. Would it be so bad to die in his arms again and again? Until we’re sick with the pleasure of it all?

I grab the quill and keep writing names down on the ancient parchment. It’s a painful process. My hand aches. There are so many names. My siblings. Ones created to store Chaos’s power and create an army. I don’t know what I feel, but with each name I know there’s a story and it hurts to wonder what they left behind knowing exactly what I’ll be leaving as well.

I don’t stop until I have three hundred. The checkerboard is on the floor from our game. The pieces scattered in the dirt.

I wonder if he realizes how beautiful he is when he’s in his full immortal form. I was petrified at first and then I realized he was showing me himself—truly, really, who he was. It hurt to choke back the tears of the pain I saw of how he must have roamed around the earth for who knows how long. Alone. Does the sun feel love? Can it? When people always rely on it to shine down? Do people thank it? Understand it? No probably not. The sun still rises each day no matter what. But do they realize it’s because he made it so? He is the sun itself. The one we look at in the sky is just a part of him. And yet he’s walked in how much darkness. Isolated. Waiting. To finally kill me.

This was all about saving Jake, so why do I feel like I need to save the very one who helped create the worlds? Why do I feel like this is bigger than a sacrifice? That Cyrus, or rather Ra, needs someone to hold his hand too?

It’s all so confusing that I have a headache.

When I do finally feel tired, it’s super late, or maybe I should say early in the morning. I fall asleep with the sunrise, facing Bast, and petting her like my own therapy cat, even though she’s terrifyingly huge. She really doesn’t do much but stare at me, sleep, and protect me when she needs to.

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