Page 133 of Immortal Sun

“That’s not a normal ocean.” I choke out some water and wipe my mouth.

“You think?” He paces in front of me. “What did I say? You have to be careful. Nature senses your sacrifice and the underworld would be more than happy to pull you down with it, the souls in the ocean around Mount Olympus have not yet found their rest, they will grab at anything they can.”

“I didn’t realize I was following you!” I scream back at him, terrified that ocean ghosts just tried to kill me. “It’s not like I want to drown!”

He puts his hands on his hips then sits next to me on the sand; he doesn’t kick it, but I can tell he kind of wants a bit of violence right now.

The water is back to being peaceful as if nothing ever happened. It’s glass, reflecting the stars.

I’m petrified, even more than when he first told me who he was, even more than last night. Seeing him use his power like that makes things more real, tangible.

“Why are there souls in the water—in Styx” I finally ask.

He stares out at the water, body tense. “It’s a choice, one you’ll never unmake, just stay away from what you can’t control. Even some of the strongest immortals will spend years fighting the currents of the underworld in an effort to get out.”

“Why would they even go in?” I ask.

He rolls his eyes. “Enki likes to play tricks. He finds it amusing when they drown but never die in an effort to get back to the ground.” He shrugs. “I’m kidding. Though Enki does like to play tricks out of pure boredom.” He sighs. “Souls, even ones deceased, cannot help but fight. It’s the human way.”

“First off, you’re all very dysfunctional.” I take a deep breath. “Second, I did always wonder why the power to fight was so strong. I guess now I know.” I rest my chin on my knees. It’s not as cold anymore. I wonder if that’s because I’m next to Cyrus or if it’s just another sign of my impending doom; the universe grants me warmth mere days before my death. How benevolent.

He barks out a laugh. “Yes, we are.” He nudges me. “But I’m not so bad, right?”

“No, person who’s going to murder me, you’re sadly the best out of all of them.”

He preens like it was a compliment, then his smile falters. “There is one that you might enjoy now that Apep’s taken himself out of festivities.”

“Yeah, I know, Daggon.”

“Not Dag.” Cyrus clenches his hands into fists. “Tyrell. While he can be an asshole to everyone, during the festival he gets obsessed with a woman’s pleasure to the point that he’ll go for hours. One time the eclipse nearly ended and he was still pleasuring the sacrifice.” He frowns and looks down at his hands. “He fought me afterwards, said she was different. I think he formed a bond with her. He didn’t speak to me for twenty years after that. He knew it was necessary, but he still mourns her, I think.”

“Wasn’t she reincarnated?”

“Ah, that.” He gets serious, and stares out at the sea, then picks up a grain of sand. “Not one of these are the same, did you know that? Every grain of sand is different. You go back to where you came from, Cleo, but you will never come back the same. He searched for her, and it was like meeting a stranger. He tried to date her, seduce her, he did everything in his power, evenusingsome of his power. It was too much for her to process. It, um, made her think she was crazy. She got drunk and drove into a tree.”

I gasp. “What?”

“We can’t interfere with humans. Her brain couldn’t process it, her soul didn’t recognize his, and in the end, his love and obsession for her was his downfall—his emotional death.”

I think of Dag and start to panic a bit; he said I was the downfall, the death.

So that leaves Dag out.

Inti just gives me dad vibes even though he’s sexy. Apep turned me down. Enki would probably poison me.

It’s Tyrell or Kratos.

Maybe in my last moments I can help him forget his heavy heart and bad memories. Maybe that can be my gift. Maybe he can imagine even, that I’m her so he has the ending he wants, not the destruction.

I look down at the sand and briefly mourn the woman’s life lost and whisper against the wind and waves. “Tyrell it is.”

I swear I can feel the intensity rolling off Cyrus in waves.

“Good.” He dusts his hands. “Good.” His eyes won’t meet mine, but his jaw is clenched tightly. He’s beautiful in the moonlight.

Slowly, I inch my hand across the sand and place it on his.

I expect him to jerk away.

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