Page 70 of Gods of Prey
We sit through their dinner without any talk of the world ending or the far or heading back to Nytheris. Instead, Jovie asks more about Aurelys, and I choose to fade out of view through Sebastian’s beaming explanations of his realm and all their useless rites and rituals, my emotions still too raw from talking about Ashric.
I’m too much of a masochist to actually leave, though. Instead, I hover in the corner of Sebastian and Jovie’s living room, watching my brother gestures more animatedly than I’ve ever seen to Jovie about the golden spires of Aurelys. His divine memories have been flooding back more each day, and with them, his nostalgia for that sickeningly bright realm.
It makes me miss the bitter, jaded mortal version of him even more and serves as a reminder that while that’s been his personality in this mortal lifetime, he’s still the ruler of the realm of Life deep down.
My opposite.
“The gardens stretch for miles,” he says, his eyes lighting up in a way that makes my spectral form flicker with annoyance. “Every flower that has ever existed blooms there simultaneously. The air itself hums with life energy. More concentrated than anything you’ve felt here.”
Jovie sits curled against him on the couch, fascination written across her face. “It sounds beautiful.”
Beautiful. I resist the urge to make a gagging sound. Aurelys is many things—overwhelming, blindingly bright, nauseatingly perfect—but beautiful isn’t the word I’d use.
“It is,” Revel agrees from his spot across the dinner table. Until now, he’s been focused on shoveling food into his mouth but all the talk about Aurelys has had him setting his fork down. “The sunrise there lasts for hours, painting everything in shades of gold and rose. And the music—” He pauses, settling back into his chair to cross his arms over his chest. “The celestial choirs sing constantly. It’s like living inside a symphony.”
“Sounds pretentious,” I mutter, though none of them can hear me in my invisible state.
Sebastian laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Remember the first time you heard them, Rev? You stood there for three days straight, completely mesmerized.”
Revel’s expression softens with the memory. “I’d never experienced anything like it. In Umbraeth, everything is so...quiet.”
Peaceful, I want to correct him, then jump down his throat for mentioning my home at all. Not in that tone. It’s serene. Not everything needs to be a constant sensory assault.
I’m still too wound up from our conversation before.
“The beings there are incredible too,” Revel continues, and something in his tone makes me materialize slightly, just enough to see his face clearly. “The light-weavers create art from pure energy. The song-speakers communicate entirely through melody. And the life-shapers...” He trails off, a distant smile playing at his lips.
“What about them?” Jovie asks, leaning forward with interest.
“They’re luminous. Literally made of living light. When they laugh, it sounds like wind chimes in a summer breeze. And when they dance—” Revel’s voice takes on a quality I’ve never heard before, soft and almost tender. “It’s like watching starlight come alive.”
My form solidifies completely without my permission, anger flaring through me like wildfire. The temperature in the room drops several degrees.
Revel notices, his head turning toward where I hover in the corner. Sebastian and Jovie still have their backs to me.
I force myself back to invisibility, but the damage is done. I can feel Revel’s eyes searching the space where I’d appeared, and I know he sensed my reaction.
“The life-shapers sound fascinating,” Jovie says, oblivious to the tension. “Will I meet them when we go?”
“Of course,” Sebastian replies.
Revel’s distracted eyes keep drifting to my corner.
“They’ll adore you. Especially Lyralei. She’s one of the Divine Council members. The Goddess of the Elements.” Sebastian goes on. “She spends most of her time with the life-shapers. When she’s there, she has this way of making everyone feel welcome.”
Everyone except me, I think bitterly. I remember Lyralei’s barely concealed disdain during our punishment hearing, the way she’d wrinkled her nose when our fates were decided.
“What about Umbraeth?” Jovie asks suddenly. “What else is Sienna’s realm like?”
The question hangs in the air, and I can practically feel everyone’s discomfort. Sebastian shifts slightly in his chair, while Revel suddenly becomes very interested in his hands.
“It’s . . . different,” Sebastian says diplomatically.
“Different how?”
“Umbraeth is where all souls retire when they’re done reincarnating,” Revel begins. When Jovie’s brows pinch together in the silent question, he adds, “It’s also where some of the worst beings are sent for punishment.”
Her mouth forms an O shape. “And is it Sienna who delivers these punishments?”
