Page 134 of Immortal Sun

To yell at me.

Instead, he grips it in his and continues to watch the waves. “We all make sacrifices for the greater good, Cleo. This is yours.”

So why does it feel like it’s his too?

CHAPTER 33

CYRUS

“To love is to give the most important and damaged parts of yourself to someone and ask them to keep them safe.” — Ra, God of the Sun

Istare at myself in the mirror. It’s always the same outfit, the same ones I bestowed upon the gods, the way mine was bestowed upon me.

I’m wearing a black tunic that has the holy symbol of the sun holding it together in a bright gold, with an attached black cape that runs down my back across the floor.

The top of my cape has bones protruding from it painted with dark red blood, a reminder of the sacrifice and of what will happen.

My arms are bare except for the tattooed hieroglyphics running up and down them that tell my story and the story of the trials.

I straighten my shoulders and lift my mask to my face.

It’s the sun.

The actual mask of the sun with all of its rays pointing in every direction, it’s black like a reminder of what will happen if I do not rise. If I do not ascend.

The mouthpiece is gold and covers the top part of my upper lip.

My chest burns.

I press my hand to it and take a few deep breaths. Never have I felt weaker. Maybe it was fighting the water for Cleo, or maybe something’s wrong with me.

That would be a first.

I quickly toss the thought away and leave my room. Tyrell and Enki are waiting with Daggon outside. Each of them has a different colored tunic to match their station: red, green, black.

And all of them are wearing golden masks.

“Took you long enough.” Tyrell sounds bored; he won’t be for long.

I clench my hands at my sides. “Impatient little shit.”

It just comes out.

He pauses, and slowly tilts his head toward me. “Something wrong?”

“Let’s get this over with,” I grit out. “Is everyone at the beach already?”

“Yes.” Tyrell nods.

“Let’s not keep them waiting.”

I storm past them and stomp down the cement stairs, realizing suddenly that it will be the last time I do this and see Cleo in that cave.

My steps falter.

I almost trip but catch myself.

And I keep walking until I’m at the beach. The newer immortals created from our blood are staring out at the ocean at attention. They have our blood, they have the need to ascend, but they never will because we created them here, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pine for Olympus, for a home they will never visit.

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