Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 615(@200wpm)___ 492(@250wpm)___ 410(@300wpm)
“What happens,” Cleo finally speaks, her voice weak, “when the children of Chaos die? After the sacrifice.”
“That’s a third question.” I reach for her, but Cassius lifts up his hand and then shifts closer to her, his lips a breath from hers.
I’m annoyed, but I do nothing.
It would cause unbalance to kill him and I do genuinely like him and the rest of the immortals out of Seattle even if they drive me crazy.
“You return to the Nile. For you die as a warrior. You return to where you were born, and your spirit returns to where it was created.” He slowly points upward. “You will be reborn.”
“Only to be sacrificed again?” she asks in an even tone.
Cassius smiles. “No. To live as a human without any memories of the horror of death. So you see, it’s a gift.”
“Dying isn’t a gift,” she says. “And I don’t trust you either.”
He stands abruptly. “She’s stubborn.”
“Told you.” I sigh.
“Well, I did what I could.” Cassius suddenly stops moving and looks back at her. “What was your name again?”
“Cleo.” She doesn’t look as terrified as before, but her right hand is shaking.
Cassius suddenly reaches for it, and his eyes blaze white as the temperature drops in the room. Frost forms on his lips, and he licks it. Then his eyes go jet-black before he drops her hand and backs away slowly.
“What is it?” I ask.
Cassius shakes his head. “Despair.”
“For what?”
He looks over at me, breath exhales and freezes from his mouth. “You.”
He’s gone in seconds.
An eerie feeling washes over me. The room matches the chill in my heart when I turn to Cleo.
She’s staring down at her shaking hands; they hold tiny flakes of snow that are melting against her skin.
“So now that I’ve answered your question.” I drop my robe to the ground. “Get on your knees and face me.”
“You have no heart.” She looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “Were you trying to scare me? Make me feel better? What’s the point in even talking to a god? An angel? Anyone? The end is the end, isn’t it?”
“YOU OWE ME!” I yell, shaking the cave with my voice. “You owe me for my sacrifice for my years of patience! You are the last name to be recorded! I’m giving you a gift! Do you understand what Chaos truly is? What it does?” I wave a hand in front of her face and snap my fingers.
Anubis appears by my side. “I don’t think this is the best way to—”
I glare at him.
He lets out a sigh and nods his head toward Cleo. “Daughter of Chaos, shall I show you why Ra chases and why Chaos rises?”
A tear slides down her cheek. “You’re the God of the Underworld.”
“I am.” Anubis puts a hand in front of her eyes and then pulls it away, he’s suddenly in his jackal helmet, and full black armor with gold sewn in, wrapped around his arms and legs. “But I am not one to fear. I am one to respect. Now…” He holds out his hand to me. “A coin for the trip. Two if you plan on coming for the next few seconds.”
I tap his open palm twice. Two gold coins with my face appear on his hands. They melt into his skin.
The room goes still and then very dark.
She reaches for him, not me, and I’m instantly pissed. Does she feel nothing? And why do I?
“Chaos is everything, it’s in front of you, it’s inside you,” he rasps. “Wake up, daughter, wake up.”
Her breath shudders in front of her face coming out in short icy puffs, suddenly her eyes open, they burn white as she stares ahead at the mirror of the dead. It’s a picture of herself or herself the way the immortals see her. Eyes white, skin pale, nothing but unhinged power pulses beneath her skin, her eyes turn red then white then red again. Her image laughs at her, fangs appear and then she turns and starts ripping through a sea of people, killing them, confusing them, whispering lies into their ears. Disease spreads, confusion, miscommunication, she is the embodiment of what is wrong with the human race.
We’re on the river Styx on a boat, there are hundreds surrounding us with mirrors in each of them, showing people their true identities as they’re carried to the afterlife.
“Fear.” Anubis whispers. “Is not welcome here.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“Because.” Anubis points her toward the mirror. “Daughter of Chaos, you have been watched by the stars themselves, counted, from every breath you take, from every hair on your head, every wrinkle you earn through the years of living—you have had the honor of being watched by heaven.”
My chest burns while she stares at her own reflection, the stars burn bright for her in her reflection, a million, no tens of millions shine down on her.