Author's Note: Here it is, folks, the conclusion of Cernunnos and Cerridwen's love story. I really tried to do them justice. I felt they deserved to have their love expressed in every aspect they can experience. I hope you enjoy.

Song for this Chapter: Better Love by Hozier. Perfect.

Nothing was like he thought it would be, when Cernunnos finally came to. The place where he existed was dark, and though some godly instinct he possessed told him the place was vast, he felt...confined, like in a small space. Worst of all, there was no scent. No scent at all, but himself and Cerridwen's mortal form.

At some point he realized the feeling of confinement was from Cerridwen's body. She lay across his chest, lifeless and heavy. The horror filled him freshly, and Cernunnos found himself swearing and wriggling madly from underneath her, and then swearing loudly at himself for his own cowardice. Cerridwen's form was nothing to fear. Her body was precious to him and he must somehow protect it while he searched for her soul...

And in that moment when he found himself wishing, above anything else, for a way to seek her in this dark vast place where he was nearly blind, a glow appeared before him in the distance, that was not unlike moonlight, but somehow hazier, more diffuse. He sat still—for he found he was sitting now, having pulled Cerridwen's body to him—and at first he only looked down upon her. She was shadowed and still in the dim light. He thought perhaps her soul might find him and suddenly fill her body with life again. He waited.

This did not happen, though he waited a very long time. A day? A week? A year? A very long time. Long enough for his own immortal body to suffer thirst and hunger and fatigue. He simply ignored the needs of his mortal form, because he could. He could not say how long it took to give up this hope that finding Cerridwen would be so simple. But if there was no scent at all of her soul, if he could not hunt her, he was indifferent to all other things, even his own suffering. In all this time he waited, the distant light did not waver or move. It was the only thing that seemed to exist here, in this place, other than him and his goddess' remains. He began to study the light, more for a distraction from his physical discomfort than anything else.

The light glimmered pale and white in the distance; it did not appear to be growing larger or closer. He reached out with his instinct and knew it was not the magic his heir and his priestess had made. Their Divine Rites must be long over now, and they had left this dark heaven and returned their mortal plane. He sensed no malice from the glow in the distance. On the contrary, the more he studied it, the more it became ...interesting. And finally, he began to feel an allure to study it more closely. Slowly, he rose with Cerridwen's body in his arms, and he walked toward the pale shine.

After a few steps, he faltered, tripping over something that felt, unbelievably, like a tree root. A few more steps and he felt the resistance of branches against his legs. It was then he realized, this place was a forest. No—that wasn't right—this place was becoming a forest. Each step he took towards that light was building the landscape around him. The smells of green and dew and earth were rising into his consciousness, and they had not been there before.

But now, with each step, the scents grew stronger and more familiar. These were not the smells of the forest he had come to love—not the Appalachians with their pine and mountain laurel and skunk smells. No, this was forest as he had not smelled it in thousands of years—the old stands of Europe that no longer existed. He could smell the ancient hemlock and beech trees, and the pungent stink of lichen and molds and even creatures that had disappeared long ago.

There was something else strange about this forest. He knew it. He knew every tree, every bush, every dip in the terrain, every fallen log. He knew this forest because he was this forest. It was the ancient forest from which he had been engendered.

For the first time since Cerridwen had taken her last breath, Cernunnos felt the burden of his own heartbeat lighten.

He was home.

His pace quickened as he moved toward the light. The light was not part of the ancient forest, but it was also not moonlight. It did not shine above, but ahead. And unlike the moonlight, he could reach it. The light was growing larger as he strode swiftly toward it. When he got close enough and the light resolved into a shape, he stopped, suddenly fearful. Not for himself. He was fearful the creature would flee.

Before him stood the most beautiful animal he had ever seen. Or perhaps it was not an animal at all, but some kind of...feral angel. Whatever it was, the Beauty was so ancient or so rare that even Cernunnos had thought it a myth. A new thought occurred to him. Perhaps this creature was so pure that it could only exist in this divine place. This creature that awaited him was a Peryton—a magnificent deer with a shining silver pelt and the wings and tail more fine than any bird could ever claim. The wings spanned twenty feet and bled from silver to white purer than the most ancient virgin snow.

At first, his mind labeled the creature as a stag, because humans had always described the Peryton as such, but he saw now, this Peryton was a hornless, beautiful doe.

She watched him as he watched her. He took a slow step, and then another, and the creature made no move to run. He realized the Peryton stood in a small clearing, and within that clearing, the Peryton had built a nest behind it. The nest was easily ten feet in diameter and crafted of branches and fronds, but it lay empty. There were no eggs, hatchlings, or baby Perytons of any kind. As he came into the clearing, the beautiful creature broke eye contact with him, and circled behind the nest. She pawed the ground, and lowered her head toward the nest, and Cernunnos understood at once what the creature wanted from him.

"Nay," Cernunnos said as he gripped his goddess' body close to his chest. "Nay, I cannot put her aside, not even to roam the forest with such a beautiful creature as you."

Then the magnificent, shining Angel unfurled its wings and stirred a great fervor of earth as it raised off the ground and into the air. It grew so bright that Cernunnos' eyes hurt to look at it, but he paid no mind to that because in the stir of air the Peryton created, he caught her scent for the first time. He fell to his knees in a cry that was both anguish and joy.

The Peryton smelled of Cerridwen's soul.

"Is it you, my love?" Cernunnos said, though he knew not what language he used. His words were perhaps no more than a thought or a sob of relief.

"Who else?" came the reply. The words were spoken directly to his mind and not through any physical means. The Peryton touched down and tucked its wings, prancing back and forth behind the nest. Her eyes glowed like sapphires as she turned slowly and trailed her tail along the ground. The tail was long and lacy and exquisite. It reminded Cernunnos more a woman's medieval gown than a bird's tail.

"How do you like my soulshape, Cernunnos?"

Cernunnos regarded the Peryton Goddess Cerridwen solemnly, taking in her every aspect. "Truthfully, I can not decide."

Cerridwen in Peryton form stopped prancing. She turned to him and bared a mouthful of very sharp, non-deer-like teeth. "You have got to be kidding me. I was lost to oblivion until a moment ago when you arrived at the edge of the clearing. I woke up like this. My soul took this shape to match yours, you stupid Stag." she hissed. "No sensible goddess would want to drag around a tail like this for eternity."

Cernunnos found the forest echoing with his laughter. "It's quite a tail, Cerridwen. I confess in this form you are a creature beyond even my wildest fantasies. There is no sweeter reward than I could wish for, than to chase you eternally in this wild and dark heaven. I only meant, I cannot decide if your soulshape is the most beautiful form I have ever encountered, or...the second most beautiful." He looked down upon her mortal body. "It matters not. You are here. I am here. We are One. That is all that matters."

"We are here," Cerridwen agreed. "But we cannot be One. Not with you still clothed in mortal flesh and I a creature of light only."

Cernunnos found that over his arm, Cerridwen's immortal cloak still lay, and in his pocket, he still carried Dru's covenant ring, that Maeve had spelled as a signal for their return, but he felt no urgency or great attachment for them.  He laid Cerridwen's body carefully in the nest, and sat upon his knees before her. He looked up at the beautiful Peryton. A kind of peace that he had never known filled him. He was sure what he should do.

"For ten thousand years, I rolled the Wheel and directed our life together. I alone created our path and I never honored your great faith. So much greater than mine. You restored me ten thousand times because you believed in me.  Your faith faltered, but it never fully died away. You still believe in me, don't you? Believe that we can make a life, or a death, together?"

"Yes, my love. I believe."

"Then today is the day I fulfill your faith, Cerridwen. Because today, you choose the path for both of us. We can return to the world of mortal concerns and the New Wheel, or we can stay here. I leave the choice entirely to you, my wise and beautiful Angel."

Cerridwen stepped forward lightly into the nest and lowered her slender neck, so that her muzzle touched the face of her mortal form. "I endured so much pain in that body, Cernunnos. Ten thousand times I lost the love of my life. Ten thousand times my soul was rent. Ten thousand times I gave birth to a child I could never know. Ten thousand times I walked away from the sound of its cries. And what Mercury did to me...that was no small pain, either."

"He will suffer for a very long time for what he did to you. Regret is perhaps the most cutting vengeance of all," Cernunnos assured her. "And if you wish it, I will spend eternity paying penance for the pain I caused you, my Lady. You can make this my hell, if you wish it, and I will suffer it happily, if I see it gives you satisfaction."

"Where there is love, forgiveness always follows. Two thousand years I've already made you suffer needlessly, and it hurt me perhaps as much as you. If I taught you something in all that time, in our last few months of life, you taught me how to love again, and how to forgive. You have no debt to me, except to repay my love in kind."

Cernunnos reached to touch the muzzle of the Peryton, only to discover she was made of pure light and nothing else. He was surprised that he felt no disappointment at all, at the prospect of not being able to touch his beautiful Peryton Angel. "I love you, Cerridwen. I love you so far beyond your mortal form, or the needs of mine. If this body no longer serves you, if you can not imagine risking the pain of mortal heartbreak again, then let us leave it here and roam this ancient forest forevermore, my love."

The shining goddess hunched her wings a bit impatiently. "What of your new Pantheon, Cernunnos? They need you, as mortal always have."

"No, my love. They needed Us. They needed our love to fortify them, to teach them. We have passed on our Greenspark to Finn and Lana, and Sean and Dru. Our love walks with them, even if we do not. It is your choice if we stay here or return, but do not worry for our beloved mortals. They will be well. My own peace cannot exist without yours."

The Peryton goddess nodded slowly. "You spent ten thousand years walking with the burden of sacrifice. And two thousand more suffering because of my anger. There is a freedom in being spirit, and this place is...wild and truly wonderful. I feel no burden at all. I would wish you...wild and free, like me."

"Freedom with you sounds wonderful, my Goddess."

Then Cernunnos lay down beside Cerridwen's mortal body. He pulled her cloak of immortality carefully over both their forms—an impenetrable shroud of their power and love. And he simply surrendered his spirit unto the Divine. He rose out of his mortal form and into magnificence.

Unlike his Peryton goddess, he was still a god of mortal shape, but much larger than he had been in life, and his arms and legs were even more thickly muscled than before. His horns were still dark but now spiraled with gold energy as bright as the sun. They rivaled Cerridwen's tail in impressiveness. His form was beautifully patterned in moss and bark and lichen, his braids a nest of vines. He was truly the Green Man, and his eyes were the same vivid green, and his senses—god-like before—were now even mindblowing to him. He could nearly see his goddess' thoughts. He saw the awe she felt as she beheld his soulshape for the first time, and her love transferred to him like a physical thing. It was not quite the Divine Rite, but they were beyond such things now. It was perfect understanding, if not pure ecstasy.

But in the next moment, Cernunnos learned that there was still pleasure to be had, for his Angel turned her beautiful tail, threw open her wings and fled from him faster than any creature he'd ever hoped to catch.

"Catch me, if you can, Cernunnos," she laughed, as she called behind her.

Cernunnos roared and gave chase.

***************************************************

Time slipped for Cernunnos and Cerridwen, though it did not seem to pass in the same way as the mortal plane. Time and time again, Cernunnos knew the pleasure of chasing his goddess. Sometimes he caught her quickly, because she did not know the forest like him. Sometimes her flight and great speed let her elude him for great lengths of time and he tracked her for what seemed like months before he caught her. Though the "catching" never amounted to a physical capture, he could overtake her and touch her energy briefly. The moment she felt his soul touch hers, she would stop immediately and say, "I yield the game, my Lord," but the victory was always mutual.

Each time Cernunnos' Hunt of Cerridwen was over, she would conjure them a nest wherever their game had ended and their spirits would rest with one another, their light shining brighter from the shared warmth of their souls. Sometimes they would not speak, but just exist in one another. Other times, they would tell each other the tales of their two thousand years apart. Sometimes they would reminisce about the old times and bicker just for fun. Cerridwen would often speculate about the mortals they left behind: Lana and Finn, and Dru and Sean. Cernunnos did not, for he could wondered too much about the passage of time. His heir would exist for a long long time, and perhaps Lana would share his immortality, but Cernunnos did not like to think that he and Cerridwen might have already grasped a piece of heaven far beyond Sean and Dru's mortal lives.

After what seemed like only a night bedded down with his goddess, but which might have well have been ten thousand years in terms of the peace in his soul, Cernunnos would wake to find her leading him on a new hunt. But it was never morning in this place. It was a never ending, Dark Divine. He never tired of his beautiful Peryton prey, his endless forest, or the hunt. They were forever alone in this place. No other creatures existed here. It was their own private heaven and Cernunnos and Cerridwen needed nothing but one another.

Until the time that their heaven was rent by a crash like lightening. In an instant, all Cernunnos' mortal instincts returned. The space-splitting sound sent Cernunnos leaping from the nest where they had bedded down and soaring through the forest in pursuit of whatever was out there, disturbing their existence. Cerridwen kept pace with him in the air. Their forest was vast and the disturbance was near what they called the "jumping in"—the edge where Cernunnos had awoken.

By the time they neared the place of the great disturbance, they understood what is was: Greenspark tearing its way into Divine Space from the mortal world. Greenspark that was still glowing. They stopped some distance away, so as not to disturb the lovers, but the Greenspark was but a thin veil, and the god and goddess inside were clearly visible.

"Are they—is that...?" Cerridwen faltered at Cernunnos' side, though of course the words were only thought between them.

"Yes. Surely you haven't forgotten our Noble Finn, or our High Priestess. Or the Divine Act."

Cernunnos felt Cerridwen's energy a little closer beside him. "Of course not. Best ten thousand moments of my life."

Cernunnos turned to look at the Peryton. She didn't have human expressions, but Cernunnos had long ago learned to read her face. She was serious. "Better than this? You truly mean that?" he asked with genuine disbelief.

"Well, this isn't living, is it? This is afterlife. Apples and oranges, my lord."

He snorted. They watched in silence. Cernunnos wondered again how much time had passed in the mortal plane. To him, it could have easily been ten thousand years. But seeing Finn and Lana, he had a new and exciting sense that not very much time had passed at all. Then again, maybe Maeve was wrong. Maybe Finn and Lana had waited millenia to return to Divine Space. Finn was immortal, and he could have shared his immortality with Lana through Greenspark without entering Divine space. There was only one good reason for Finn and Lana to return to Divine Space.

"We really shouldn't be watching," he said.

"Oh, I think it's all right," Cerridwen said. "It's a sacrament we created--to make a godling."

"Aye, it is." Cernunnos chuckles. "It's wonderful. Cerridwen...do you realize that since Finn is my heir, and Lana is our priestess and descendant, that in every way that matters, their child is our...grandchild? We are watching our grandchild be conceived."

Cerridwen remained silent beside him. Finally, when the Act was over, and the Greenspark faded, and Finn and Lana and their newly conceived godling had returned to the mortal plane, Cerridwen had a thought that was so small Cernunnos nearly missed its murmuring. As she turned away to begin a new chase, he could have sworn he heard her say, "Another child we will never know."

***************************************************

After that, Cerridwen found herself often returning to the jumping in, because it was there that their mortal forms lay in undisturbed, eternal stasis beneath her cloak of immortality. They looked the same as the day that Cernunnos had laid them to rest. She had all but forgotten their bodies, but since glimpsing Finn and Lana, it became a habit to check on their former selves, every few hunts.

She would sense when Cernunnos found her there, but he would never enter the clearing where the grave-nest lay with her, unless she asked him to come to her. Sometimes she did, and they would stare at their mortal forms together.

"Do you regret, my love?" he asked her one day.

"This time? This place? No, I do not regret. Heaven with you is healing. I am healed now, Cernunnos. All the pain of my mortal life is healed," she said.

Cernunnos brushed his soul against hers. "I can ask for no more than to hear you say that."  Cernunnos felt a small pang. The Peryton Goddess did not smile so beautifully as Cerridwen in mortal form, and he suddenly wished he could see her smile to match her healed soul.