Page 5 of Gods of Prey
I signal for another whispershade, buying time to think. What Sebastian is doing is dangerous. Not just for the cosmic balance, but for himself. Hell, for me too. The Divine Council’s punishment for manipulating timelines would make our current sentence look merciful.
“He’s not thinking clearly,” I say finally. “Love does that, even to gods. I need to make him understand the consequences.”
“You’ll need help,” Erebus insists. “Someone who can take physical form in the mortal realm. Someone Sebastian trusts.”
An image forms in my mind—tall, annoyingly perfect, radiating the warm light of Aurelys. “Revel,” I mutter with my nose scrunched up in a disgusted scowl, like a child being told to eat their vegetables before dessert.
“The interim God of Life,” Erebus nods solemnly. “Sebastian’sbestfriend.”
I grimace. Revel and I have never gotten along. Where Sebastian and I are passionate and impulsive, Revel is measured and disciplined. He’s spent centuries looking down his nose at me, the chaotic goddess who always corrupted his friend when he was trying to keep him in line. The thought of asking for his help makes the whispershade curdle in my stomach.
“Sebastian might listen to him,” Erebus presses when I don’t respond.
Suddenly, this mission feels a lot less enticing.
“Or they might both turn against me,” I counter, lifting a brow at him. “Revel has been ruling Aurelys in Sebastian’s absence. Perhaps he’s grown fond of the power.”
Erebus shakes his head. “Revel is many things, but disloyal isn’t one of them. He’ll want Sebastian back where he belongs.”
I drain my second drink, letting the cold clarity wash through me. “Fine. I’ll go to Aurelys. I’ll speak with Revel.”
Eventually.On my own time.
I stand, pulling my hood back over my face. “But first, I need to see the balance for myself.”
“The Observatory Tower at the castle shows it clearest,” Erebus says, standing as well. “The scales have begun to tip, slowly but surely. Life grows unchecked in some realms, while death comes too quickly in others.”
I nod, preparing to shadow-step back to the castle. So long as it hasn’t reached the Divine Council in Nytheris. “And Erebus? Not a word of this to anyone. Not yet.”
His expression remains impassive, but I catch a flicker of something in his star-like eyes. It’s gone before I can decipher it.
“As you wish, my lady. Umbraeth is yours once more.”
But for how long?I silently wonder as I dissolve into shadow. If Sebastian refuses to return, if the balance continues to falter, the Divine Council won’t allow me to remain on the throne. They’ll appoint Erebus permanently.
The thought should disturb me more than it does. Instead, my heart booms against my chest at beingfree.
Thirty-three brutal human deaths have left their mark. I’m tired in a way immortals shouldn’t be able to feel. Part of me understands why Sebastian would risk everything for love. For a chance at happiness.
But this duty has always been our burden to bear. And now, it seems, I must bear his as well.
The shadows take me, and I reappear at the highest tower of my castle—a structure of black crystal and ancient bone that rises from the center of Umbraeth like a jagged crown. Below me, the Nightshade Forest pulses with ethereal light. The Duskvein Rivers glow silver in the perpetual twilight. My realm. My responsibility.
And somewhere in the mortal world, my brother has found something he values more than all of this. More than me.
I need to find him again. I need to make him understand what’s at stake.
Even if it means tearing him away from the only happiness he’s known in millennia.
2
Revel
The sunlight in Aurelys never dims, never falters. It’s relentless, really. This perfect, golden brilliance that bathes our realm in perpetual day. I’ve been here for centuries, and still, I sometimes miss the simplicity of shadows.
I adjust the crown of living vines on my head as I walk through the Blossoming Courts. The foliage responds to my touch, flowers unfurling and closing as my fingers pass over them. Their movements are off, though—their vines slightly wilted.
Not my crown, not really. It belongs to Sebastian, like everything else here.
