Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
I have no tails.
No bead.
I’m nothing anymore.
I want to believe it was an accident, but what about the conversation with Timber?
I crawl toward the closest tree I can find and huddle beneath it, hugging my knees to my chest. It’s Seattle, so of course, it starts to rain, though I’m protected.
A dark figure appears down the road. I immediately recognize Bannik. Great, just what I need, a fallen angel giving me advice on how to live when he’s been kept down in the Abyss for who knows how long?
He crouches down next to me. “Can I sit?”
“Can you? Sure. Do I want you to? No.”
“Foxes, always so honest despite everyone saying how much they manipulate mankind.”
“You’re no man.”
He barks out a laugh and throws his red and black hair over his shoulder. “What gave me away?”
His eyes still have pieces of white and red in them; they fade to black every time he shifts. “What used to be in your eyes?”
He stills. “What do you mean?”
“Horus is a god of the sky, you’re a fallen, and your job was to watch, so what did your eyes reflect?”
His normal scowl turns into a small smile, transforming his face. He looks beautiful, almost ethereal. I can see him in his golden armor, proud, standing on the mountain the watchers or fallen guarded, all before deciding they wanted humanity as their own.
All before they fell.
For love.
“Well…” He leans back against the tree and crosses his arms over his chest. He looks so normal again, wearing a simple black trench coat, a white shirt, and jeans with black boots. “Our eyes reflect what we worship.”
“What?”
“As angels, our eyes reflect what we worship. Imagine looking away from your only job, knowing you were to look straight to the heavens and watch, never blink, simply watch… the minute your eyes fall away from their purpose, something else is breathed into existence in your line of sight, and it gets harder and harder to look back to your purpose until you finally forget what it actually is in the first place.” He looks to the stars. “Your eyes will reflect your worship, Kit. If his eyes reflected the stars, if they reflected you—he’s good. If they reflected the bead, you would have seen it. It would have been impossible for him to hide it.”
“So why did he—”
“The all-seeing Eye of Horus. You know the stories?”
She nodded. “Some.”
“Apophis probably found a way to use his eye and see into yours, to put him in a trance and take one final treasure, one final sacrifice. Remember, the gods and goddesses used to hunt for you.”
I nod, wringing my hands together. “You never hunted me.”
“Because my job was to protect your forest. To protect everything in it, humans, foxes, cows—”
“I’m better than a cow or human,” I grumble.
“Apologies.” He holds up his hands. “I just thought it would be good to discuss moving forward.”
I stop feeling sorry for myself for one instant. “What do you mean moving forward?”
He reaches for my hand and holds it tight. “It was me. I was your star.”
“What?” I can barely get the word out. “My star? You?”
“It’s why you wanted to touch me that first night. I was reborn, returned to you, the very little fox I watched and protected before I guarded the mountain before I fell. When I was sent to your mountain, I watched you more, but with each passing year, my star diminished more and more, not because of you but because of me. It made you feel more lonely; we felt each other’s emotions. It should have been a warning for you, but you had no family—all you had was Horus to protect you, so when I finally did fall into the Abyss, you had hope that one day the god of the sky would return. Why else do you think you fell for him? Your star was gone. But, you were given the whole sky.” He smiles at me sadly. “I would have wished that for you. I’m glad that was your future, Kit.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me a small piece of paper. “And now, we might have to journey together without the sky, but I promise, your star will never again choose to fall unless it’s for the greater good of the life you deserve.”
I slowly unfold it, tears running down my cheeks.
Look to the skies. I’ll always exist there for you. And when you can’t feel me, speak to the wind; it whispers your name. My love for you will span lifetimes just like yours did for me. Wait for me, and if you can’t—know that I’ll always exist in the stars. And so will you. Take care of your star—make him shine the way you shine for me.”
“What?” I crumple up the piece of paper. “What’s this? A goodbye? Is he dying? What’s happening?”