Page 43 of Gods of Prey (Parallel Prey #3)

Sienna

Eighteen Months Later

T he great hall of Aurelys gleams with light that seems to emanate from the very walls.

I stand beside Revel, our fingers intertwined as we wait for the ceremony to begin.

It’s strange being here under positive circumstances, when for so long I’ve been an outcast, bound to the shadows of Umbraeth.

Yet somehow, with Revel beside me, I feel neither out of place nor uncomfortable. Just balanced.

“Are you nervous?” he whispers, leaning close enough that his breath tickles my ear.

I shake my head, watching as divine beings from all realms file into the hall. “Not for this. Jovie is ready.”

And she is. I’ve never seen anyone more prepared for immortality. Where most mortals would be terrified by the prospect of forever, Jovie embraces it with the same fierce determination she’s shown throughout our entire journey.

“I still can’t believe the Divine Council agreed to this,” Revel muses for what feels like the hundredth time, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand.

Neither can I, if I’m being honest. But then again, the Divine Council had little choice after everything that happened. The old rules were crumbling, and a new balance was needed. Sometimes destruction must precede creation—something I understand better than most.

A dark, terrified part of me fears they only went along as an experiment.

No one was sure what would come of a mortal and divine child.

Especially one destined to be so dangerous.

Then Vale came barreling into the world, named after the thin veil he was born with a foot on each side of, and it was like the entire cosmos released a sigh of relief.

“There she is,” I say, nodding toward the entrance.

Jovie appears, wearing a gown of flowing gold that complements her skin beautifully.

It moves fluidly with her body, wrapping tightly around her torso and trailing behind her like silk.

Her hair is adorned with tiny star-like flowers that grow only in Aurelys.

The heart-shaped necklace I handed back to her before she left for Aurelys all those months ago hangs around her neck, glowing slightly now that I’m near.

But it’s the look in her eyes as she scans the room for Bash that makes my chest tighten. That look of absolute certainty, of love so profound it could bend reality—which, in my brother’s case, it literally did.

“She looks radiant,” Revel murmurs.

“She always did,” I reply, remembering our coffee shop conversations, before everything changed. Before I knew her as more than just the mortal who stole my brother’s heart. “Even when she was just a barista in New York.”

Sebastian appears at the far end of the hall, holding his squirming son in his arms. He’s magnificent in his divine form.

Gone is the mortal CEO serial killer; this is the God of Life in his full glory.

Golden light emanates from within him, and the flowers that line the pathway bloom more vibrantly as he passes.

My twin brother, my other half, restored to his rightful place, yet transformed by his love for a mortal.

Our eyes meet across the crowded hall, and his smile is both familiar and new. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in centuries. Since before our punishment began. Probably long before.

“The Divine twins, reunited at last,” a voice says beside us, and I turn to find Erebus. He looks different now—less burdened, perhaps. The interim title has been lifted from his shoulders, replaced with a new purpose as our second in Umbraeth.

He spent a few weeks mentoring Revel in Umbraeth before taking off on his own, drifting between realms with a freedom he’s been lacking since before my punishment.

“Erebus,” I nod in greeting. “I was wondering if you’d come.”

“And miss watching a mortal ascend?” He raises an eyebrow. I should have known. Erebus is boring if not curious. I supposed when you’re as old as him there’s not much that surprises you.

This is certainly a once-in-a-lifetime event.

The music begins, a melody that seems to vibrate through the very foundation of Aurelys.

The assembled divine beings fall silent as Jovie begins her procession toward Sebastian.

He points a long finger toward Jovie, encouraging Vale to watch his mother ascend into godhood.

With each step she takes, there’s a subtle shift in the air around her—the first signs of her transformation.

I watch my brother’s face as his bride approaches. There’s awe there, and love, but also a fierce protectiveness. He risked everything for her—his duties, his divine nature, the very balance between realms. And against all odds, it paid off.

“He looks at her the way you look at me,” Revel whispers.

I turn to him, surprised. “I don’t look at you in any special way.”

His smile is knowing. “Whatever you say, goddess.”

The ceremony itself is breathtaking. As Jovie reaches Sebastian, they share a kiss, and he sets Vale down. Like a wind-up toy, his feet are moving the moment they hit the ground, and he barrels into my lap. Revel and I catch him, giggle with the rest of the crowd behind me.

The High Divine, a gender-fluid being who performs all rites and rituals for the divine realms—begins the ceremony that will bind their essences and grant Jovie immortality. There’s an exchange of vows, not just between lovers, but between a mortal and eternity itself.

“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 that once 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 something I was 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 once seemed 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.

When we part, I see Sebastian and Jovie approaching across the balcony. My brother’s arm is around his immortal wife’s waist, and she leans into him with the comfortable familiarity of someone who has found their place in the universe.

“There you are,” Sebastian says. “Escaping already?”

“Just taking a moment,” I reply. “It’s been a long journey.”

Jovie steps forward, taking my hands in hers. The touch of her skin feels different now—charged with divine energy, yet still unmistakably her. “Thank you, Sienna. For everything.”

I squeeze her hands. “I should be thanking you. You showed my stubborn brother that there are some things worth breaking the rules for.”

“And some people,” Sebastian adds, giving her a look of pure adoration.

“Will you continue to visit us?” Jovie asks. “In Aurelys, now that this is all over?”

“Of course,” I promise. “The realms aren’t as separate as they once were. That’s the whole point of this new arrangement. Besides, nothing can keep me away from Vale.”

Sebastian nods, his expression thoughtful. “Balance through connection rather than division. It took us thirty-three lifetimes to figure that out.”

“Thirty-four, technically,” I correct him with a smirk. “But who’s counting?”

We all laugh, and for a moment, I’m struck by how impossible this scene would have seemed when Revel and I first arrived in Seattle. The four of us, standing together in harmony—Death and Life, the divine twins reunited, a former mortal now ascended, enemies turned lovers.

“We should return to the celebration,” Sebastian says eventually. “They’ll be looking for the newlyweds.”

“We’ll join you in a moment,” Revel tells them.

As they leave, Sebastian pauses to embrace me. “Be happy, Sienna,” he whispers. “You deserve it after everything.”

Once they’re gone, Revel and I turn back to the view. The sun is setting over Aurelys, painting the sky in hues of gold and rose. Soon, the stars will emerge—the same stars that shine over Umbraeth, over the mortal realm, over all existence.

“So,” Revel says, slipping his arm around my waist. “Thirty-four lifetimes. That’s a lot of experience to bring to a relationship.”

I laugh. “Mostly experiences of dying horribly.”

“Not anymore,” he says, suddenly serious. “That part is over. No more mortal lives. No more deaths.”

“Just eternity,” I murmur. “In Umbraeth. With you.”

“Is that so terrible?” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his voice.

I turn to face him fully, placing my hands on his chest. “Once, I would have said yes. The interim God of Life and the Goddess of Death, forced to work together? A recipe for disaster.”

“And now?”

I smile, feeling lighter than I have in millennia. “Now I think it might be exactly what both realms need. What I need.”

“What we need,” he corrects, pulling me closer.

Below us, Aurelys continues to celebrate.

Soon, we’ll return to Umbraeth. To our new order with Erebus.

There will be more challenges, undoubtedly.

Centuries of tradition don’t change overnight, even with the Divine Council’s blessing.

But for the first time since my punishment began, I’m looking forward to the future rather than dreading it.

“I love you,” Revel says quietly. “Goddess of Death, stubborn divine twin, complicated woman—all of you.”

Words I never expected to hear, especially from him. Words that once would have seemed impossible, a violation of the natural order. But now they feel like the most natural thing in the world.

“I love you too,” I reply. “Even though you’re absurdly optimistic and irritatingly noble.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As we stand together, watching day give way to night, I feel the perfect balance of it all. Life and Death. Light and dark. Beginning and end. Not opposites fighting for dominance, but partners in an eternal dance.

The stars emerge one by one, shining over all realms, all beings, all existence. And for the first time in thirty-four lifetimes, I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

In perfect, eternal balance.