Chapter 198: Chapter Sixteen

Timber

~Egypt, Valley of the gods~

“Father wants a virgin.” The first thing my brother Horus said as we rode through the valley, taking inventory of all the gods that no longer resided with us, and furthermore, taking a tally of the ones still living who could defy us taking over the gods of the Greeks.

Not many remaining.

Thank the Creator.

Dirty bastards anyway, less powerful, more whiny.

Pity since they were beautiful to look at, horrible to escort to the Abyss, always arguing over why they should never die when that was the Creator’s plan all along.

An end, so He could finally start over, a new beginning.

My horse neighed.

“Quiet, Styx,” I murmured as we pulled to a stop in front of the Temple of Ra. It had been years since we’d visited. I was pulled to it now, and I couldn’t explain why.

My own grandfather looked like my brother, but even he was withering with age; it showed in his laugh lines, I wondered when he would finally be done, finally want to be set free from the rules that bound us to this earth.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Horus asked with a soft chuckle.

“Yes. A virgin. Good luck finding a goddess that will actually appease him.” I snorted.

“He’s already found one. A human,” Horus said under his breath.

I turned and gave him a confused look. “What? A human?”

“Royal.” He shrugged. “Like that helps.”

“Exactly!” I was disgusted. “We don’t mix for a reason. Our bloodlines don’t allow it. The last time it happened, Ra was not pleased, the Creator was even more displeased, and we were almost at war!”

“Her father,” Horus kept talking, “is one of the last remaining Greek gods with sustainable power, Apollo. The alliance would be beneficial to everyone involved.”

“You said she was human,” I corrected.

“She’s mostly human, apparently Apollo wanted her to have a normal life, so he begged the Creator for a boon—take her godliness from her blood, but leave her beauty.”

I snorted. “And he said yes?”

“He said there was a reason.”

My body was on edge as I clenched my teeth. “There always is, isn’t there?”

Horus nodded his head toward the temple. “We should visit.”

“He’ll burn us on site.”

“Maybe you…” Horus said with a burst of laughter.

I just rolled my eyes. “It’s not my fault he’s scared of me now that he knows what I do. He will always fear his death. I don’t take it personally.”

“You shouldn’t. Not until you surpass him in power, as you’re already doing.”

I ignored him, even though I knew there had been whispers that the more my father fed his dark side, the more strength the Creator gave me, the more dominion I had.

“We all see it,” Horus said softly. “One day you will take over and I’m glad for it. No other god is better.”

“You mean older,” I joked trying to take the attention away from myself as much as possible, because if my own brother knew this, then everyone else did too, including my own very jealous father.

“Try not to break a hip,” he teased.

We both laughed and then raced across the desert, back to our father’s temple and his people.

It was a beautiful prison painted as one of the most enormous temples in the Nile.

Set wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t good either. He bargained, he wagered, he craved the war between the last remaining gods because he knew with his two sons on his side, along with Ra, we wouldn’t fail.

The Greeks didn’t stand a chance.

Which begged the question, why an alliance?

“Why,” Horus said echoing my very thoughts as if they were his own. “Indeed.”

~Two hours later…~

I could live a million years and never tire of the sight. The gates of Set and Osiris. White marble columns rose from the desert floor.

Brilliant jewels shone from above, casting beams of colored light in all directions.

Everywhere the eye could see, gleaming gold decorated pillars and trellises, and more jewels winked from settings in the marble walls.

And no matter where we were inside the giant city gates, there was laughter, the smell of food, sweet meats, flowers.

Every breath inhaled was a gift of fragrance from the most expensive perfume money could buy.

The white marble streets were lined with our people, happy, safe, protected from death, destruction—protected from me as long as they served the Creator.

It always amazed me how easily humans forgot the danger that lurked in that temple, that skulked mere feet from where they stood—from where they refused to worship.

To worship me was forbidden as long as my father sat on the throne. I would forever walk among them, feeding off their fear as much as I would their worship. Then again, I didn’t want it.

Part of me knew the Creator was a jealous being. He didn’t want humans worshipping his creation; he wanted them worshipping Him.

And I couldn’t find it within me to argue such a valid point—my brother agreed with me at least on that front.

It was like worshipping the meat once it was cooked rather than thanking the cow for existing in the first place and giving up its life.

Ridiculous.

We walked farther into the inner city while people watched in awe, many of them whispering, others hiding.

The main temple was said to be the tallest building on the planet, over seventy stories high with over a thousand rooms in the actual temple itself, not to mention the hordes of animals kept within its walls for food and entertainment.

The temple of Osiris looked like heaven on earth, the opposing temple the darker of the two—Set’s faced the east to honor Ra with the sunrise, and at sunset it looked as though someone had dipped it in orange paint.

The only thing missing was the gate to Heaven, which had long since been destroyed.

Once the Creator spread humans throughout the universe, it was dangerous, He had admitted, for them all to understand one another.

Our people had no idea that the gates they often walked by were actually the gates of Tartarus—Hell itself.

Because my father was not a good man—well, he wasn’t a man at all but either way goodness was not in his makeup—power hungry, jealous to his core.

His desire was always more.

His curse was to never be satisfied.

And it seemed to be getting worse with age. While his sons thrived, he plotted, and I feared the day he would one day push one or both of us too far.

I felt it in the air around me.

In the way, my skin prickled with awareness.

Rumors spread that he was the god of the demonic race, a way for the Creator to prove to the gods that there was a fate worse than death—being trapped as an immortal, cursed to live in a constant thirst with the need to feed on the very humans you swore to protect.

I gripped my throat. I was a god, but that baser instinct still ran through me, watching, waiting to attack.

I knew the blood that ran through me, that if my soul was one day lost, that part of me would take over.

It was the only way the Creator kept balance between the gods and their enormous amounts of freely given power, the very real threat that you could give in to darkness—and come out the loser, or that he could snap his fingers and everything would be lost.

I rebuked the darkness on a daily basis, however, because I was a god.

And not just any god.

I was the god of death.

The taker of souls.

I smirked as we made our way up the sleek marble stairs into the golden throne room.

Let them try to take me. I’d been missing a good fight.