Twilight of the Gods ✔️

Chapter 12: Karma Incarnate

For the Elysian who wished for the death of all angels, Ezra lived a remarkably boring life. Or at least Haydn thought so in the week that he had been watching him.

All the man ever did was read, eat, and sleep. Dozens of tomes lined his bed stand and several more were scattered on his bedroom floor. They were usually heavy and leatherbound with gold lettering on their covers and spines. But the length of the books never deterred him from consuming multiple of them at once. For as many books as Ezra possessed, he had double the amount of notes and annotations.

This was unsurprising to Haydn. All of the literature Ezra read was about the Board and if it didn't concern that, he was skimming works about other artifacts of power. Ezra was obsessed to say the least. It wasn't enough to control a select group of mortals who worshiped him. Clearly, he wanted the world.

Haydn laughed at the thought. Ezra was greedy and like all greedy men, he was sure to meet a terrible end. He had seen it before in the many years of his immortal life. There was never an end to the wanting. Ezra's desire would swallow him whole until there was nothing left but an empty hole carved in his shape.

But for now, he was an infuriatingly boring man with a massive stick up his arse. Haydn suppressed a yawn as he watched him examine the Board, fiddling with the pieces. Ezra would make a few moves with his white pieces, muttering to himself as he pushed pawns and tapped bishops. The black pieces across him would move on their own, eating up his rooks. Whenever that happened, he would slam his fist on the table, startling a devotee serving him and shaking the glass of water on his left side. Occasionally, new white pieces would appear on his Board to replace the fallen and he would continue the game anew, invigorated by the seemingly infinite number of chances that he received.

Haydn shook his head. He was going to cry from boredom if he had to continue this any longer. But he couldn't stop. Nyx's Board said that Ezra was the key to finding out what happened to Evelyn. He refused to give up, even if the sight of the Elysian was starting to annoy him.

He crosses his legs, trying to get comfortable on his perch. He was watching Ezra from outside a window where he remained unnoticed, cloaked in his glamour. Today, he had chosen to disguise himself as a crow. He puffs up his sleek black feathers, keeping his beady eyes on Ezra's head. He blinked twice, unsure if he could believe what he was seeing.

Ezra had fallen asleep at the Board, his head tilted sideways in slumber. For someone as disciplined as he, this was unusual. The Board's games were everything to him. What was even more strange was that Haydn knew Ezra wasn't sleep deprived. The Elysian slept a full eight hours everyday, undisturbed and in a fully dark environment.

He eased himself through an opening in the window and entered Ezra's room, his curiosity fully piqued. He flew in, careful not to flap his wings too loudly. Ezra remained unconscious, not even stirring when Haydn accidentally knocked over the glass of water on his table.

Certain that Ezra wouldn't wake, Haydn dropped his glamour and examined the Elysian closely. Objectively, when he wasn't speaking or breathing, Ezra could be described as an attractive man. His shiny, thick hair and flawless skin were attributed to his careful diet of fish and greens. His pale blue eyes, when they were open, could even be thought of as pretty, framed by an enviable set of lashes, but only if they weren't looking at you. And his body? Let's just say he exercised far more than he had to.

As Haydn drew closer to Ezra, he noticed something strange. Clenched between the fingers of his right hand was a doll that looked just like him. Several thoughts ran through his mind. It looked like a child's plaything, with blue button eyes, brown yarn hair, and a stitched-up smile. A rational person would assume that it had been gifted to him when he was young and that maybe the doll helped him fall asleep. But Haydn knew better. Ezra didn't need such things to sleep soundly. Perhaps the Elysian had a bigger ego than he gave him credit for if he needed a replica of himself.