I follow his gaze, letting my senses stretch out, but I already know the answer. Seby blinks like a sentry off duty, then promptly stares into the corner with unsettling focus, which…yeah, terrible timing. The room feels still, though. Quiet in the way only the living can appreciate.
“No,” I assure him. “It’s just us. For now.”
He relaxes slightly, though he keeps glancing over his shoulder every few moments, just in case. “Okay. Cool. Totally fine. I mean, it’s only been five minutes since you told me you’re the god of the underworld, so, uh…pardon me if I’m still…adjusting.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, then bumps me with his thigh. “Seriously though, I’m not over this. Not even close. But…it also kinda tracks. And honestly? It makes you evenmoremysterious. And hotter. So, you know. Silver lining.”
“The flattery.” I feel the tug at my mouth before I can stop it as we drift into another round of questions because, apparently, Levi’s curiosity is endless.
“Did you know Cleopatra?”
“Yes.”
“Was she as beautiful as they say?”
“Incredibly.”
He groans. “Unfair.”
I shrug. “She was also terrifying, for what it’s worth.”
Levi grins, eyes sparkling with something that makes my chest ache. “So, this whole…immortality thing. How’d that go sideways?”
I exhale slowly, knowing this part would come. “We signed the Immortal Retirement Act. It was supposed to—”
“Thewhatnow?” he interrupts, an eyebrow raised.
“The Immortal Retirement Act,” I repeat. “We were tired of meddling, of humanity’s messes. Tired of being worshipped and blamed in the same breath. So, we signed it. Gave up our immortal abilities…sort of, to live as mortals.”
“I’m assuming there’s a bigbutin this story.”
“Correct. The Fates, ever the bureaucrats, included some unfortunately overlooked fine print. Our decision was allegedly permanent. No do-overs. No apparent loopholes. Just…this.” I gesture vaguely around us. “Mortal-adjacent. In all its mundane glory.”
Levi is quiet for a long moment, then tilts his head. “Wait…you meanallof you? Every god signed this?” His voice drops. “So if you’re here…does that mean there’s no one down there now? No one ruling anything?”
My chest tightens, but I answer. “Correct. Olympus. The seas. Even the skies. Empty now. Whatever balance remains…it belongs to the mortals.”
He rolls his eyes. “Well, shit, that would send more than a few Sunday morning regulars into one hell of an evangelical tizzy.”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “If they’d even notice at all.”
The joke lands light, but the truth beneath it hangs heavier. For all our divine noise and fury, the world seems to move just fine without us. Maybe that’s what stings the most. How easily eternity can be replaced.
Levi studies me, brows knit, before asking softly, “Do you miss it?”
I don’t answer right away. Because the truth isn’t simple. Because yes…andno. It’s not the power I miss. Certainly not theisolation. But the purpose. The feeling that I belonged somewhere, even if that somewhere was dark and endless.
“Parts of it,” I admit finally. “But not all.”
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against mine.
And I realize…I don’t actually miss being agod.
Not whenthisfeels like it could be more than anything I ever had back then.
We sit like this for a while, the quiet stretching between us.
“What about your family?” he asks after a beat of silence. “What are they like?”
