Page 3 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Revel

T he 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.

“Lord Revel!” A dryad approaches, her skin the rich brown of fertile earth, hair a cascade of pink cherry blossoms. “The eastern gardens are requesting your presence. The new souls are arriving, and they wish for you to perform the Welcoming.”

I offer her my most charming smile, ignoring the pit opening up in my stomach. “Tell them I’ll be there shortly, Thalia.”

She blushes, the color of her cheeks deepening to mahogany. “Of course, my lord.” She lingers, twisting a fallen blossom between her fingers. “Will you be attending tonight’s Celebration of New Growth?”

“Would it be a proper celebration without me?” I wink, and she giggles.

This is how it’s been for centuries now.

Sebastian leaves for his mortal punishment alongside Siennara, and I step in as interim God of Life.

The crown feels heavier each time, the responsibilities more binding.

And every creature in Aurelys—from the highest nature spirits to the tiniest sprouting seeds—looks at me with the same expectation: Be what Sebastian is. Fill the void he leaves.

As if anyone could.

I make my way toward the Hall of Seasons, where the Council of Elders awaits me. The path beneath my feet sprouts wildflowers with each step, another reminder that my power here is merely borrowed. Sebastian’s footsteps would create entire orchards if he wished.

“Lord Revel!” another voice calls out. This time it’s Lyra, one of the light nymphs who serve in the palace. Her body glows with a soft luminescence, her hair made of pure sunbeams. “A moment of your time?”

I pause, watching as she floats toward me. “For you, Lyra? Always.”

She smiles, delighted by the attention. “The musicians are preparing for tonight. I thought perhaps you might wish to choose the opening melody?”

She drifts closer, her light pulsing in a way that suggests more than musical interests. She’s so close, her arm brushes against my left wing and sends spiders skittering down my spine. I ignore the sensation, plastering a soft smile on my lips.

“Something celebratory, I think,” I say, gently brushing a strand of light from her face. “But with depth. Nothing too frivolous.”

“Like the piece you composed for the last solstice?” Her glow intensifies as she leans into my touch.

“Something new,” I say. “We’re always creating here, aren’t we?”

She nods eagerly, bravely reaching to caress the soft golden feathers at my back.

Many gods are protective of their wings.

They’d kill anyone who came close to touching them.

But I’ve been intimate with Lyra enough times for her to feel comfortable with the gesture, and I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.

“I could help you compose it. In your chambers, perhaps? After the council meeting?” she offers, biting her bottom lip.

The invitation is clear. It would be easy to accept, to lose myself for a few hours in her light and warmth. To pretend that this golden palace and all its adoring inhabitants fill the emptiness I feel.

“Perhaps,” I say noncommittally. “I’ll send word after my meeting with the Council of Elders.”

Disappointment flickers across her radiant features, but she covers it quickly. “As you wish, my lord.”

I continue on my way, nodding to the various spirits and divine beings who bow as I pass.

They all love me here. Or at least, they love what I represent: the stand-in for their true god.

The placeholder. The best friend who keeps the realm functioning while Sebastian experiences mortality yet again.

The Hall of Seasons rises before me, its massive columns carved from living wood that changes with the four seasons, even though seasons don’t truly exist in Aurelys. Currently, they display spring, with buds and fresh leaves spiraling up toward the open ceiling.

Inside, the Council of Elders awaits. Ancient nature spirits, each representing an aspect of life: Birth, Growth, Flourishing, and Transition. They keep the realm moving smoothly and make my job near effortless.

They rise as I enter, bowing deeply.

“Lord Revel,” Elder Thorn, the Spirit of Growth, greets. “We have matters of great importance to discuss.”

“Don’t we always?” I take my seat on the throne of living wood. Not Sebastian’s grand throne in the central palace. I’ve never presumed to sit there. But I have taken over a smaller version for council meetings. Still, it responds to me, branches extending to cradle my arms as I sit.

“The balance reports are concerning, to say the least,” says Elder Dew, the Spirit of Birth. Her face is young but her eyes are ancient. “The transition between life and death has become erratic.”

I lean forward, brows furrowing. This is what I feared. “Explain.”

“Souls are lingering longer than they should before passing to Umbraeth,” says Elder Bloom, of Flourishing. “And new souls are arriving with...residue. Memories and attachments they should have shed.”

Elder Frost, Spirit of Transition, nods gravely. “The veil between realms thins. Something disrupts the natural order.”

A chill runs through me despite the perpetual warmth of Aurelys. “When did this begin?”

The Elders exchange glances. “Three mortal days ago,” says Elder Thorn.

Three days. Exactly when Sebastian and Siennara should have completed their thirty-third life cycle. When they should have both returned to their divine realms.

“Has Lady Siennara returned to Umbraeth?” I ask, keeping my voice casual.

“Our counterparts in the Death realm confirm she has,” says Elder Frost. “But Lord Sebastian...”

“Has not returned here,” I finish for him. The crown of vines suddenly feels like it’s tightening around my temples. “I see.”

This has never happened before. In all thirty-two previous lives, the twins have died together or within days of each other—mortal timelines are much quicker than ours.

Both always returned promptly to their realms. Sebastian has always been punctual about resuming his duties, eager to shed his mortal form and memories.

What’s changed?

“We must consult with the Oracle,” suggests Elder Bloom.

“No,” I say quickly. The Oracle would report directly to the Divine Council. If they learn Sebastian is missing, the consequences would be severe. “Not yet. Allow me to investigate first.”

The Elders look uncertain but nod in agreement. My word is law here, at least until Sebastian returns.

“Continue monitoring the balance,” I instruct them. “Report any changes immediately. For now, we will manage the disruptions ourselves.”

They bow and withdraw, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the whispering leaves of the living throne.

T he Celebration of New Growth is in full swing by the time I arrive.

The central courtyard of the palace has been transformed into a garden of impossibilities—flowers that bloom in colors not found in the mortal realm, fruits that change flavor with each bite, trees that dance to the music played by wind spirits.

I move through the crowd, accepting goblets of nectar and offering blessings to the spirits who bow in my path. My crown has been refreshed for the evening, now adorned with night-blooming flowers that glow with inner light. My robes, woven from the first light of dawn, shimmer as I walk.

“Lord Revel,” purrs a voice beside me. I turn to find Iris, one of the rainbow spirits, her skin shifting through all colors of the spectrum as she moves. “You look troubled tonight.”

“Do I?” I smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. I take her offered hand and press a kiss to her iridescent knuckles. “How unfortunate. Perhaps I could use a distraction?” I tease, ignoring the churn in my stomach at my cringey joke.

Her laugh is like wind chimes. “I would be honored.” She presses against my side, her form cool and warm at once. “Though I’m not the only one seeking your attention tonight.”

She nods toward a group of nymphs watching us from near the fountain. Among them is Lyra, her light dimming slightly as our eyes meet.

“I’m a poor substitute for their true lord,” I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.

Iris looks up at me, her eyes swirling with colors. “Is that what you think? That we only desire you because Sebastian is gone?”

I shrug, sipping from my goblet of nectar. It tastes of summer berries and morning dew. For some reason, the flavors are bitter on my tongue. “It’s the truth, isn’t it? I’m the replacement. The understudy.”

“For some, perhaps,” she admits, trailing a color-changing finger along my arm. “But not for all. Some of us prefer the shadows that occasionally cross your face to Sebastian’s constant radiance.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Shadows in Aurelys? Blasphemy.”

She laughs again. “You know what I mean. Sebastian is perfect. Untouchable. You are...” She searches for the word.

“Flawed?” I offer deprecatingly.

“Real,” she counters. “Approachable. You understand darkness in a way he never has.”

I don’t respond to that. She’s right, of course.

Sebastian is light personified, goodness and growth without complexity.

He was born for this role. I was handed it and forced by my mother to abandon my own destiny to fulfill it.

I don’t resent him for it at all, but I sometimes wonder what I could have been if he and Siennara hadn't ever broken the divine rules.

He’s my oldest friend, and sometimes I barely understand him.

Although, I may be realizing that there’s more to him than I could ever understand.