Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
I am in the presence of a god.
Maybe even the god. Though I suspect all the others might object to that characterization.
The next thing I know the god is walking towards me. He taps my shoulder. “Rise, son. We don’t have a lot of time and things have gone… awry.”
I look up, then stand up. I am young but I am not small. Much, much taller than the guards around me. But this man, he towers over me. Like the scope of these ancient halls, and doors, and temples wasn’t to prop up his image, but was necessary so he could pass through.
I mean, he’s not an actual giant. But he’s like a good eight feet tall and chiseled like a fuckin’ statue.
I don’t know what to say. Hello? How was your trip? I understand that I’m here to learn about who I really am, but beyond that… I have no clue what’s going on.
Luckily, he puts his hand on my shoulder and guides me to a open doorway leading to an interior courtyard garden and begins to speak before anything becomes awkward. “I’m sorry to say that plans have changed, Pell. The Caretaker Ceremony—”
Caretaker? I get stuck on that word for a moment. And then I’ve missed something because he’s saying, “So there will not be a wedding.”
“What?”
“I know. She’s perfect for you. And godlings, son. Oh.” He sighs, almost moans. “The godlings the two of you would’ve produced. It would’ve been… divine.”
He pauses here as we stand in front of a reflection pool covered in blue lotus so he can look down into my eyes. His are yellow, like mine. And I see myself in this man. A little bit, at least. Obviously, he is not a satyr and I am. He has no hooves, or hocks, or fur. But I see my face in his. And even though I am basically still a child and my manly form is probably a decade away, at least, I see my mature build in the chiseled muscles of his shoulders.
“But you have a more important role now.” He places a sincere hand on my shoulder and gives it a little squeeze as he says this.
“What role?”
“You’ll see. Enjoy yourself tonight. Have fun with Apis. Do all the things you had planned and don’t worry about it. We’ll discuss it again tomorrow.”
I want to say, Who the fuck is Apis? But instead, I ask, “What about Pressia?”
He shrugs and looks away, almost bored. “Bed her tonight, if that’s what you want. There will be no godling now.” Then he claps me on the back and walks away.
I don’t follow. I don’t think I’m supposed to because the guards who were flanking us turn and walk away with him. A deliberate separation.
So I just stand there for a moment, not sure what to do next.
Something is happening here. Something big. Something that will explain who and what I am and what all this has to do with my curse.
Because this is why the hallways brought me here.
To see the truth.
3
Once I accept that this trip through the hallways has a purpose, I feel a little better about things. Do I need the truth at this point? No. Not really. I don’t care anymore. And I can actually see the logic in forgetting. Even if it wasn’t part of the curse, what’s the point of rehashing old things?
But I don’t think the hallways will let me go until I get through whatever is coming. So I decide to be proactive about this. Possibly make it all happen a little quicker.
I go looking for Pressia first because even though I now know we don’t get married, she bothers me. All those books in the apothecary bother me.
And as I wander the many spaces inside the palace wall in search of her, memories of this place come back to me and I get a very strong feeling of déjà vu. Plus, all the humans are very attentive. I don’t think I have my own servants or anything, but the humans are everywhere and they are constantly bowing to me and asking if I need anything. So when I ask for Pressia, one takes me to her apartment. He bows low, then backs away and retreats down the walkway the way we came.
I face the door, take a deep breath and knock.
I am greeted by an older human woman with dark hair, black eyes, and a scowling mouth with red lips. “You are not supposed to be here. The wedding—”
“The wedding is off.”
“What?” She gasps, clutching her heart. “This is not true.”
“It is. There will be no wedding. Something has come up.”
“That’s not possible! It’s been arranged since birth.”
“You should go talk to my father. I will explain everything to Pressia myself.” I step aside, giving her a not-so-subtle hint that she is going to leave and I am going to enter.