Page 162 of Immortal Sun

And in the end, is that what we will say? That Chaos was destroyed because the final daughter chose pain over power?

She’s never been more beautiful.

I fall to my knees and roar. The earth shakes, the tree right along with it, like the three eternities, the strongest realms are in mourning as the skies go dark.

I know I’m causing it.

I’m also prolonging so much.

The balance must always take place.

The sacrifice must always be made.

My eyes meet hers.

I tug the last remaining part of her tunic exposing her heart. I’ll burn myself onto her. I’ve made my choice—by honoring hers.

A scream erupts from her lips. “It burns!”

“Fire always does,” I whisper, eyes filled with tears. “The beginning hurts just like the end.”

Blood drips down her body into the ground, her body convulses and shakes, a beautiful chaos of life and death.

I look down at the amulet in her hand, then at the anklet with the bell. I will find her in the underworld, I will hear her heartbeat even if that means we live there together. Her rapid heartbeat matches the pulsing of the tree.

It’s like birthing something to life; the tree grows taller, the leaves become full, while she empties her blood.

Apep picks up the knife and goes to do the final sacrifice, one that will be the most painful for all of us, like cutting the chord between destiny, life and death. He has no choice now, it’s almost finished. Cutting Chaos from this earth for good—maybe he had a trial after all.

She will know us no more once this takes place, we will just be the monsters that took her life, and then she’ll sleep until she’s reborn.

I feel her pain like it’s my own. Her eyes don’t close though, they keep trained on mine like she wants my warmth.

Her breaths become shallow.

She’s afraid.

She doesn’t realize how brave she really is. I’m shocked when she begins to sing our ancient song of the dead. Maybe she’s trying to comfort herself, but I imagine she’s seeing her mother’s spirit. She’s ready to cross over, and it’s making me feel like death, not the Creator of Life.

Tears stream down her face. The rest of the gods join in until it’s a chorus of holy singing.

It’s a moment that will go down in our history. They will of course think it’s just a myth, the girl who bravely sang at her own funeral.

But we will know.

We will tell the stories.

I will never be the same.

I press her remaining blood against my chest, marking my armor, and then I wipe it across my face like a handprint.

Next to me, Inti does the same.

One by one, the immortals, all except Apep, spread her blood against their holy armor in honor of the sacrifice. The only time this was ever done was when Zeus was born.

It’s more than a moment.

It is eternity within a moment.

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