Page 100 of Gods of Prey
“Do you accept the burden and blessing of immortality,” the High Divine intones, “knowing that you will witness the passage of all things mortal, including those you once knew?”
“I do,” Jovie answers without hesitation.
“And do you, Sebastian, God of Life, pledge to guide this soul through the ages, to teach her the ways of divinity, and to honor the gift of her mortal perspective?”
My brother’s voice rings clear through the hall. “I do.”
The High Divine raises both hands, and a golden light begins to form between them. “Then let what was separated be joined. Let mortality give way to eternity. Let love transcend the boundaries of existence.”
The light grows, expanding until it envelops both Sebastian and Jovie. For a moment, they disappear within its brilliance, and a collective gasp rises from the assembled divines. Vale whines when his parents disappear. Then, slowly, the light recedes, revealing two figures still standing hand in hand.
Jovie looks the same, yet utterly transformed. There’s a subtle glow to her skin now, and her eyes—the same ones thatonce looked at me over coffee cups and conspired with me in parking garages—now hold the fathomless depth of immortality.
“It’s done,” Revel murmurs. “She’s one of us now.”
I nod, unexpected emotion tightening my throat. In all our millennia of existence, I’ve never witnessed a mortal ascension. It’s both beautiful and terrifying. The end of one existence, the beginning of another.
Sebastian leans forward and kisses his bride, and the hall erupts in celebration. Light bursts from the ceiling, raining down like benevolent stars. The music swells, and the divine beings begin to dance. Not in the human way, but in patterns of light and energy that swirl through the hall. Vale hops off my lap to join his parents, absorbing every ounce of attention he receives on his way.
Erebus excuses himself, moving away to speak with some of the elder divines. Revel turns to me, his hand extended in invitation.
“Shall we join them?” he asks.
I hesitate. “I don’t dance.”
His smile is teasing. “The Goddess of Death doesn’t dance? Or Sienna doesn’t dance?”
“Both,” I reply, but allow him to pull me into the swirling patterns, nonetheless.
Moving with Revel feels natural, as if we’ve been dancing together for eons rather than days. His light complements my darkness, his warmth my cool. We spin through the hall, passing Sebastian and Jovie, who are lost in their own world. My brother catches my eye and mouths a thank you that makes my heart clench.
“He knows what you sacrificed,” Revel says, following my gaze.
I shake my head. “I sacrificed nothing. We found a better way.”
And we did. After all the chaos and confrontation with the Divine Council, after all the tests and trials, we discovered that balance doesn’t require rigid separation. Life and Death, light and dark—they’re not opposites to be kept apart, but complements that strengthen each other.
The dancing continues, but Revel leads me away from the crowd, out onto one of the balconies that overlook the endless expanse of Aurelys. The realm stretches out beneath us, a tapestry of vibrant forests, sparkling waters, and meadows teeming with life. In the distance, just visible on the horizon, is the shadowy boundary where Aurelys meets Umbraeth.
Our realms. Our responsibilities. Our home.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Revel says, looking out over the view.
“It is,” I agree, though my eyes are on him rather than the landscape.
He turns to me, his expression growing serious. “Are you truly happy?”
I consider him for a moment, my brows pulling together in a light frown, when I notice the worry creasing the corners of his eyes.
“And what of your own happiness?”Lyralei had asked me in the Divine Council chambers.
I told her it was none of her concern, mostly because it wasn’t somethingIwas concerned about. But Revel was. He stepped forward and risked the Divine Council’s wrath to ensure I didn’t commit myself to more unnecessary suffering. He threw everything he had at the Divine Council to ensure that if I was going to suffer, it wouldn’t be alone.
“I’m the happiest I’ve been in eons,” I tell him honestly.
His smile is soft as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I am, too.”
When he leans in, I meet him halfway. His kiss is gentle at first, then deepens with a passion that would have onceseemed impossible between two gods who despised one another. Between Life and Death. But we are more than our domains now. More than our duties. More than the punishment that shaped us or the conflicts that divided us.
