Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
The price has already been paid.
I should have asked more questions. Like, a lot more.
We approach the outside of the temple. I can guess that this is where the god is, just by glancing at the building. The roof is covered with hundreds of enormous, dark birds. An ominous sign. Guards stand just outside, wearing clothing very similar to Kina’s family. They look uneasy as we arrive, but don’t stop us. Instead, they just step aside. This particular building has a double door made of what looks like a hammered metal of some kind, tarnished and faded. There are two carved handles to grasp, both of them in the shape of a strange bird. “Ravens?”
“Vultures.”
I should have guessed. Those must be vultures on the roof, too.
I touch the handle and pull the door open, steeling myself against what I’m going to find inside. The interior is dimly lit, a few braziers flickering in corners, but the room seems yawning with darkness, and I squint, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the low light. I step inside, my heart fluttering with anxiety, and I’m not entirely surprised when the door is quickly shut behind me. The room smells musty and damp, but not awful. It’s silent, too. There’s no sound other than the echo of my footsteps as I move forward.
The temple seems larger inside than it did outside, the room one big empty chamber. Not empty, I realize. There are skulls and bones everywhere. They line the walls and decorate the pillars that I walk past. The benches are made of bones. The altar off to one side is made of bones. The ceiling has a chandelier for holding candles and it’s made of—you guessed it—bones. I’m appalled, but I’ve seen this sort of thing back home, too. What was it called? An ossuary, a place of worship decorated with bones, endless amounts of bones.
It’s definitely a vibe. Not my vibe, but I guess it’s this guy’s.
As I move forward, I see a man seated upon a throne. The throne is at the back of the massive temple, in an alcove so shadowy that I almost miss it. His chair is made entirely of more bones, but that’s not the most striking thing.
The man on the throne is almost colorless. His long hair is a pale, bleach white that matches the bones. His skin is just as colorless. He wears a linen wrap about his waist that is the same pale almost white of the temple priestess’s garment, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she gave it to him. He slouches on the throne, his knees spread, his pale feet bare on the stone floor. I hadn’t expected the god of disease to look as pale as a ghost.
They had told me he was beautiful, but I still wasn’t prepared.
The god of disease, the lord of vultures, is stunning. His features are strong and yet somehow refined, with high cheekbones that would put one of Tolkien’s elves to shame. His mouth is full and pouty, and his nose is perhaps a little too big for the rest of his face, but it somehow goes well with his thick brows and hooded eyes. Long, cascading hair of the palest white gleams with health and ripples down his broad shoulders. The chest in front of me is bare and unmarked, a lean swimmer’s build. His hands hang over the arms of his throne, and he doesn’t even look at me as I approach. He simply stares straight ahead, his eyes the only dark flashes of color on his face. They’re a vivid green, the effect startling amidst all that ghostly pale splendor.
“Hello,” I call out gently.
There’s no answer, no acknowledgment that I’ve spoken at all. He continues to stare straight ahead at nothing at all.
I move toward the throne, eyeing him. Lachesis said he’d be Apathy…well, she wasn’t wrong. Apathetic is the best way to describe him. He lounges with careless grace, his expression blank. It’s like he doesn’t care that I’m here, or that anyone else is. That he’s here in the mortal realm at all.
I kneel in front of him to try to get his attention by breaking his line of sight. “Are you Kalos?”
The bored eyes finally focus on me. He blinks once, then turns away again, staring deliberately at a wall. “Do you think someone else would pretend to be me?”
Well, he’s got a point. It does seem like a lot of effort to go to for one of the other gods, and it sounded like he wasn’t anyone’s favorite to boot.
I eye him, and one of his hands trembles against the bone armrest. My attention is drawn there, and as I watch, his fingertips slowly fade out. He clenches a fist and the firmness returns to his outline. I think about what the priestess said.