No wonder you're so stubborn,
Nobody ever made you dig deeper,
No wonder you've got demons.
Everything you ever did is coming back around,
I can't help you,
If I'm weaker,
You took the honey from the queen bee keeper,
No wonder,
You have demons,
Everyone's got a choice this time around.

- The Glitch Mob feat Aja Volkman, Our Demons

22

"Do you think there's anymore?"

Death pulled Despair to a halt on top of a hill, ignoring the question for a moment as he gazed out over the pasture that they were trotting down. His orange eyes flickered over the scene; where the fence ended to Jessica's horses that were on the loose, a forest grew, reaching up to the sky with trees of fantastic size and bearing their beautiful green leaves to the growing gray clouds above. From a planet of destruction, Earth had became a flourishing planet of green. Green had replaced the grays that Death had saw the last time that he had been on Earth. Without the same opportunities to create or use the same technology that they had before, the Kingdom of Man's new, less lazy lifestyle had allowed Earth to restore itself to most of its original glory. Their past, hauntingly familiar and still rather recent, was there; a lone house stood toward one side of the pasture, obviously showing signs of something ripping it clean open as a rusted, burned truck with overgrown vines and weeds crawled about its sides. But there was a certain beauty to it that was more beautiful than that Death could explain.

Tilting his head slightly to the side, the Pale Horseman watched as the woman who had volunteered to help him slowed her mare beside them. Her red hair was painfully obvious against the background splattered with different hues of gray skies and green hills. If that didn't help, the purple trench coat she was wearing made Death want to curl his nose up in pure disgust. What was up with purple anyways? She had borrowed a black v-neck shirt from Jessica and some noticeable scars decorated her bare collarbone. A rifle was slung across her shoulder, the same one that she had arrived with. Freckles adorned her cheeks framed her red lips. She was pretty. But, for some reason, every time that Death looked at her, he found that she reminded him of a young Fury with her distant, intelligent green eyes. Once upon a time, the Black Horsewoman was not as outspoken as what she was now.

Mama -Death felt funny calling her that, but the woman insisted that with everyone that she met- had said that the woman's name was Valir. She was a quiet person, almost a loner from how Mama had explained her. Back at the camp that was so famously ruled by Andrew (Mama acted as if he was a king), Valir tended to stay her distance from others and always took up a residence that were on the outskirts away from everyone. She was good at noticing things that were off apparently. She knew how to face danger without panicking and silently did whatever anyone asked her to do.

When Death announced that he was going to search for anymore Demon Lords, she had volunteered almost instantly, but that could have also been because she was becoming rather overwhelmed with the combination of Rosaline, Thomas, and Strife, who was worst than the two kids. His injuries were awful; Sera's teeth had almost completely ripped through the muscles on his left shoulder and several other gaping wounds had acquired immediate attention. Thanks to the witch, Mama, she was able to magically heal his wounds, but they still needed time. When Death and Valir had left, Strife was attempting with his wounded arm, that was bandaged from fingertips to shoulder, to color in the lines of some bubbly childish Strawshortcake color book with Thomas and Rosaline.

Speaking of injuries.... Death's gaze travelled to hand of Valir's right arm. Even with the bandages that were wrapped about her hand, she was holding the reins to her brown mare with a strong and steady grip. He was well aware what had made that injury. Like Strife, she too had been attacked by Sera, but, unlike his brother, Valir had not allowed Mama to use magic to hasten her recovery. When Mama had suggested it, the redhead had glanced at her wound before looking back at the older woman with pursed lips. Magic is for the weak, she had exclaimed. I can heal on my own.

"Anymore of what?" he replied dryly, even though he knew exactly what she was asking.

"The bodies."

Turning his eyes back to the forest, Death didn't answer as he urged Despair forward. The bodies. They had chanced across them by accident. Most of them had been appeared to be in the works of being hidden; the group of angel bodies that they had discovered had dirt thrown over them, one with just his face blankly staring out as a wing laid bent at an odd angle nearby. Blood, demonic and angelic alike, had been painted across the battlefield by a sword and Valir had even found a leg that appeared as if it belonged to Mormo. Death definitely didn't miss the scorch marks that marred the trees or ground either.

"It depends on what attacked them," he finally answered as they finally made it to the tree line. He guided Despair alongside the fence for a couple of minutes, Valir following silently behind him, as he considered going into the forest.

Valir reminded quiet until Death stopped by the fence, gaze locked upon a small trail that looked like it hadn't been used in at least a couple century. Pavement, cracked and beaten, was still amazingly there, framed by the trees that grew around it as small grasses and weeds began to grow in the cracks of the gray. If he looked closely enough, blood seemed to glisten from a few plants as if something bleeding had been dragged down it. He gestured toward it questioningly and she shrugged. "It's the road that Mama and I took with Rosaline and Thomas to get here. Nothing attacked us when we were on it."

"That does not mean that something used this road recently. I'm seeing signs of something having went through not too long ago."

The horses jumped the fences relatively easily, though Valir's mare needed some encouragement to leave the safety of the pasture. What Death had seen on the pavement had been blood. Examining it only confirmed what he had thought; the blood was much to shiny to be human and to light to be demonic -angelic blood had been split here. He voiced his concerns as he mounted Despair; "Perhaps a conflict happened here with some angels."

Valir's green eyes searched the trees. "I'm seeing nothing that would -ah, wait a second." The Kinslayer watched as she dismounted and approached a small, bent tree. She pulled free a small piece of fabric and held it up for him to see, his nose crinkling when he recognized the same colored fabric that Azrael had been wearing when he had last seen the Angel. The Archangel hated ruining any of his clothes and Death couldn't imagine why he would do such a thing willingly. His expression didn't go unnoticed. "Do you know its owner?"

"Unfortunately." Death looked down the destroyed road, his trained eyes catching small, hardly noticeable things that were slightly off. The broken branch at his height on horseback. The way one side of the road was blooming with life and how the other was drooping. "I'm afraid we might have a dilemma on our hands."

"I was thinking long the same lines."

"I doubt your thoughts are as specific as mine are," Death commented.

Her green eyes flickered up to his, the glint in them unreadable, and she ignored him as she mounted her mare in one fluid motion with her head turned completely away from him. Without another word, Death led them down the road. He had half a mind to ask the woman behind him if she noticed anything on the overgrown road that was out of place since she claimed that she had been here before, but she always seemed to be in some far off place whenever he looked over his shoulder to do so. So he did everything himself. As they traveled further into the forest, the foliage became thicker, as expected, and they eventually found another spot full of signs of a fight.

This time a lone, large white-feathered wing greeted them.

Once again Death dismounted. Despair's ears were nervously flicking about as the mare's nostrils flared uneasily; any animal would become skittish if they randomly came across a wing like this. Death, not even fazed by it, crouched down slowly beside the ruined appendage. He studied it intently; large white feathers, ruffled from battle and colored with specks of blood toward their base, were soft underneath his fingers when he ran a hand over them, gently pulling at one of the four elongated feathers that hung from the sides like little ribbons. It appeared as if it had been cut clean from the shoulder, half because there was very minimal damage along the rest of the wing. Blood, gold in color, was splattered across the ground several yards a way and a sizable hole was there as well, looking as if a sword that had missed its mark had been buried there. But he had a feeling he knew who it belonged to. Belonging to no normal angel with its massive size of just fifteen feet alone, Death knew that they were trailing angels that had amazing power.

And that's what made him very nervous. He knew the Archangels -not on a personal level, but he knew that they hardly made appearances. The Demon Lords were normally troublesome and more of a handful. On the contrary, the last Archangel that Death had even seen in the last couple hundred years was Azrael and he could remember War mentioning the angel as well. The others didn't like leaving their duties that much unless it was important. But that left the main question. What attacked them?

"What are you thinking?" Valir's voice broke him from his thoughts and he whipped his head around to look at her.

Narrowing his orange eyes, Death stood, brushing his hands together to find that some of the angelic blood had gotten into his hands. He thought about revealing some of his suspicions to the redhead, but thought better of it when her gaze moved away from the Angel wing as if she couldn't stand the limb sitting there. Humans did always believe that Angels were prefect -and they were. But Death knew and understood a different side of them that the Kingdom of Man did not.

"We might be meeting some... acquaintances of mine in a little while. They are very... holy and I should warn you before we meet them that they are very... different than what you are used too."

Valir's eyebrow rose slowly as his weak explanation fell from his lips. "I am okay with surprises, Horseman."

"This one is a little... different."

"I have faced worse."

"You better pray," Death mumbled underneath his breath as he mounted Despair, watching the thoroughbred's reaction as he urged him forward. Silence enveloped them once more and this time he found it to be suffocating. Glancing over his shoulder, he found Valir to be studying everything about them with her green eyes almost dangerously as if daring something to be wrong. "So... where are you from?"

Her eyes flickered up to his and she scolded. "Please. I know that Strife is your brother and I do not need you to remind me. I will not have two people asking me personal questions in one day."

Death blinked, surprised.

For a couple of minutes, birds were the only thing that made any noise, but even they contained an uneasiness to them. The Horseman was studying their surroundings, waiting for any sort of unusual noise to alert them to the presence of something else, when Valir sighed heavily. Her fingers were beating the horn of her saddle when he glanced back. "Look, I don't mean to be snappy or whatever, but I don't like talking about that much."

He slowed Despair down beside her and the mare. She shot him a questioning glare, her hand tightening on her reins when got so close. The road was hardly wide enough for the two horses to walk by each other and the mare's ears were pinned back when Despair matched her pace easily. Dogwoods bloomed above them, the beautiful white flowers twisting up into the small beams of sunlight that managed to get through the trees looming over them. Other small flowering plants were flowering between the pavement, some bright and others dull. An annoying bug buzzed by Death's head several times before landing on his wrist; he surprised Valir when he smacked it and the little pest gave one more weak buzz before plummeting to the ground. A beech tree appeared before them, its trunk so wide that War wouldn't even be able to wrap his arms about it, and Death couldn't help but to follow the paper-like gray and white dotted smooth bark until it disappeared behind a mass of green leaves.

Gesturing at Valir once they had passed the massive beech tree, Death said, "Well, I supposed that those scars of yours didn't get there when you were born."

Those green eyes of hers locked onto his orange ones as she pulled her coat over her marred collarbone to cover the marks, an emotion flickering through her eyes that Death could easily relate too. Regret. She turned her gaze ahead of them and squared her shoulders. "No. They were not. And I supposed that scythe of yours doesn't have a story of how you came upon it. Or the tattoos on your arms."

"Ah, now those are a story for another time, I'm afraid."

"And my scars are one for now?"

"I'm just trying to get to know the woman who came with me to knowingly face Demon Lords. I would simply like to know why she isn't afraid of the bastards."

Valir stared straight ahead with an unwavering gaze. "I can see the resemblance between you and your brother. I assume that he learned from the best." Death placed a hand on his chest and smiled. "I am afraid of both demons and Angels alike. I just have a way of hiding it and facing my fears."

"And many more emotions."

"I'm sure that you fear too, Horseman."

He realized that he still hasn't grown accustomed to not having his mask when Valir smirked at the surprise that must have flashed across his face. "I fear nothing," he said quickly to recover.

An eyebrow lifted on her face. "Oh yes. Fear is something that we all have, Horseman." She paused for a moment before looking away once more. "Everyone can tell that you fear losing your siblings."

That's not good. Instinctively he felt his hands tighten about Despair's reins and the thoroughbred gave him a glare, ears flicking back just a little as a warning. Death returned the glare. He didn't need another animal attacking him; Dust was already unhappy about Death ordering him to search the other half of Jessica's lands and the chickens had surrounded him when they were getting the horses ready to peck at his legs again. "Is it that noticeable?" he asked softly.

"Only because I have felt the same pain."

Her answer was soft. He looked at her for a moment before frowning and gazing down at his hands. Brief recollections of the Nephlim standing before his siblings and himself flashed across his mind and he shook his head to clear it before he could sulk in their memory as his hand briefly reached up to his chest. "How many?"

"None were my family like you. It was a matter of life or death... I choose life... A group of demons attacked our camp and some Angels greeted them." She scolded to herself as Death listened. "They fought on our camp grounds and, instead of helping when we became surrounded, I left. But not without a price." Her fingers pulled away one side of her trench coat and she showed the scars along her collarbone. They danced along her collarbone and further into her shirt in dark marks against her pale skin. "A Prowler caught me and I would have died if the leader of our group hadn't shot it through the head with an arrow. Saved my life..." As her voice trailed off, she clenched her hand together, biting her bottom lip as her eyes narrowed dangerously. "And how did I repay him? I ran until I couldn't anymore," she spat. "Never looked back either."

"You regret not fighting for a cause that would have destroyed you in the first place. I see nothing wrong with that," Death voiced his thoughts out loud, half to say something to break the awful silence and the other to help Valir feel better.

"Maybe you Horsemen aren't as same as humans as I thought we were. Most of us are loyal to family and our homes. It's expected."

Loyalty. The word caused Death's fingers to tighten on Despair's reins once again. Thoughts of the Nephilim flashed through his head -smiling faces he had once called friends, helping them, raising them, training them to become the amazing warriors that they were. They had loved him. And what had he done to repay their love, their loyalty to family? He had killed them. Sliced their bodies up, flung their organs, tore them limb from limb. The bottom of his eye twitched and he suddenly found it harder to breath as the emotion that he had noticed in Valir earlier gripped him. Regret. He regretted destroying the Nephilim because he had been loyal to them like family.

He had been told that out of the Horseman, he was the only one who regretted what they had done. His siblings emotions were not the same as his; they saw the defeat of the Nephilim, no matter how painful it had been, similar to putting down an animal with rabies. No one would leave a ferocious, drooling creature with the urge to bite something running around. They hadn't been as close to the others as Death was. As Firstborn, he watched over the younger and was basically their Commander, bowing to no one besides from Absalom himself. His siblings were oddballs. Fury was puny and picked on, Strife spent more time in the aid of the healers than anywhere else, and War was silent, never voicing his opinions much and therefor always being looked at in confusion. True, Death hadn't been like the others either; he had a spark of creativity that only he and Absalom shared. But, still, his siblings had never shared much of a bond with their kind. When they had been striking down the Nephilim one by one, the Kinslayer had felt parts of him being beaten down as well. They were just as much as family as what Fury, Strife, and War were to him.

That was why he could never fully destroy the Nephilim until his brother's life was in danger.

"A penny for your thoughts," Valir commented and he looked at her, breaking free of his spell. He glanced around quickly, soaking in the thinning trees and grass that was growing in height, and curled his nose in disgust as he urged Despair forward, passing a smirking Valir in the process. "Not fun having someone pry at your business, huh?"

He glanced briefly over his shoulder at her, not finding her smile amusing at all. "Some business should not be brought up more than once."

She lifted an eyebrow even as her smile stayed on her face. Without realizing it, he returned her smile, though half-heartedly, and shook his head as he turned back to the path. Later he would realize that they would become great friends; they were able to connect to similar incidents, it would appear that they had almost identical views of life, and they acted about the same. But it wasn't right then and there.

Despair halted suddenly. Death immediately sat up straight the second that the thoroughbred's black and white speckled head lifted, ears flickering forward as he stared at one of the few remaining trees. Valir's mare stopped behind them naturally, flinging her head and snorting at their sudden stop in annoyance. The woman began a sentence and Death instantly interrupted by flinging up a hand to silence her. When Valir fell quiet and then her mare, Death realized how everything else about them was so silent. Not even a bird chirped and he couldn't hear anything shuffling through the grass that had reached the horse's bellies in height. Nothing moved.

It was an interesting tree at least. It twisted up toward the sky like something had grabbed and tried to strangle it of life, the branches reaching high as its brown leaves struggled to hold onto their home. There was no grass about its base and the nearest tree was easily a couple of feet away and leaning in the opposite direction, almost as if it was being shunned from nature itself. Gray bark was peeling from the tan inside and had fallen onto the ground around it. It looked like a dying tree.

Narrowing his eyes, Death gazed at the tree as he silently urged Despair toward it for further investigation. When the thoroughbred refused, he heard Valir shuffling behind him; a click of a gun's safety sounded and he knew that she had prepared her rifle. Death stared as he dismounted. Despair made a panicked snorting, feet tramping the ground several times as he moved back, his teeth echoing as they clamped down on Death's shirt. The Horseman shooed his horse away impatiently as he pulled Harvester free, splitting his scythes in two and spinning them to where the blades faced toward the sky. With Valir watching behind him and her mare completely calm, Death approached the tree.

How many times had he done this? Unsurprisingly, too many. He ignored the strands of black hair that fell into his face as he finally reached an arm's length away from the tree that unsettled his horse. Reaching out to it, Despair whinnied nervously, shaking his saddle with a few clicks, but Death ignored him. Like he had amused, the bark of the tree was incredibly thin and broke away at the simple brush of his fingers, causing the peelings to flutter free. Nothing happened. To make sure, he leaned about the tree as he adjusted Harvester tighter in his grip and found nothing. He sighed.

"There's nothing-" he turned as he spoke, already relaxing his tensed muscles, and froze when he saw a creature sprinting silently toward Valir and the horses at a neck-breaking pace. None of the group seemed to notice and Death realized what this was as he reacted to the surprise attack.

A distraction.

One scythe of Harvester flew out of his hand with a small whizzing noise. Valir's eyes widened in surprise as her mare reared in surprised and she yelped, staring at his weapon. Despair darted out to the side, being the first of the three to see the creature bounding toward them, and whinnied as a roar came from the animal. Harvester cut clean through the creature in mid-leap at Valir, the scythe continuing until it hit another tree with a loud thunk since the creature had exploded into a gray cloud almost like smoke. Valir had turned just in time to see the explosion and she screamed when the smoke enveloped her and her mare. With another scream, she slipped off the back of the mare, landing with a small grunt. She hardly made a noise as she rolled out from underneath the mare's flailing hooves as it released an awful noise.

Death watched, fascinated, as the smoke seemingly wrapped about the horse, forcing the mare to breathe it in. The transformation was almost immediate. Fur fell like snow from the mare as she reared up, literally tossing her mane from the back of her neck. Her eyes changed color; from the black that they were before, a new red color seeped into them and completely changed them. Her body loss that psychical form to it and looked almost as if a simple sweep of the hand could cause her to disappear. The reins and saddle she had vaporized into the air. In a matter of seconds, she was something else.

With an unnatural, she charged at Despair. He threw himself to the side as the new creature struggled to get to him, jaws snapping as she made noises that shouldn't be possible from a horse. Death broke free of his daze as questions darted through his mind. Possession? Perhaps, but that was definitely the ash. He could tell by the familiar way that it looked and could almost feel it against his skin once again. Dammit, he had hoped it had disappeared.

He took off in the direction of Valir as quickly as he could as the two horses battled it out in the background. Summoning the other half of Harvester to him, he reached the woman in time to catch another ash creature rising from the grass nearby, its body sickeningly similar to that of a raccoon. The blade of Harvester cut through the ash creature's throat, hopefully killing it this time as it shrieked and blew away like dust. He caught the missing half of Harvester to see another ash thing out of the corner of his eyes. Smashing the two parts together, Death grunted as he swung a much larger, single version of Harvester as a scythe into the head of a bird-like ash creature. It squealed as he sliced it clean in half from tail to head, the two parts smashing into the ground and splattering everything around them in gray.

Valir shrieked. At first he thought that it was simply from the fact that he had killed something, but her scrambling attracted his attention as her shriek turned into a panicked gasping. His eyes widened and he snatched her hand as she tried to jerk away from him. The ash. Suddenly unsure, Death tightened his grasp on her wrist as he glanced around for something that could possibly get the ash off of the woman's hand. He felt something soft and almost sighed in relief as he attacked it desperately. Her bandage.

There wasn't much on her hand, just enough to coat her half of her thumb, but Death aggressively wiped at the gray ash that was on her hand as quickly as he could. Pain was in her green eyes as she struggled to breathe, through the pain or the possession of the ash, Death didn't know. He didn't stop trying to remove the ash until the bandage began to turn red from her now reopened gashes and he chucked it to the side. He half expected the bandage to turn into an awful beast. Though she was visibly gasping for breath, Valir took the time to lean forward and kick at the very stained bandage.

Despair's nickering caused Death to stand, swirling Harvester again. The ash was everywhere, left from the ex-mare's hooves as she danced about, attempting to bite or kick at Despair as he darted about, ears pinned back, the whites of his eyes visible, and his lips pulled back. Anger swelled through Death and he did a small circle, ready to chuck Harvester with his full weight and strength, when everything suddenly burst into flame.

"Shit!" The word had slipped past Death's lips before he realized it and he dropped, instinctively throwing himself over Valir.

Fire destroyed everything about them and, after a few seconds of feeling absolutely nothing, Death's eyes snapped open in confusion. Valir had cradled herself into his chest, eyes wide as she grasped at his arm wrapped about her protectively. It was like an impenetrable bubble had grown about them; oxygen was visibly being used as the fire sucked it up, the blazing oranges, reds, and yellows a furious fire as it roared around them. He couldn't hear anything else besides from the roar of the fire as it raced by. The woman underneath him winced in pain when he moved his grip, accidentally brushing against her reopened wounds and her arm jerked instinctively away. Into the fire. She never acted as if it pained her and Death watched as the bubble expanded to fit her arm instantly, the fire parting perfectly around her arm as if it had been there beforehand. Blue flashed brightly, temporarily blinding him, and flickered into several different shades until Valir yanked her arm back into her body, obviously disturbed. Hopping up onto the bottom of his feet, Death half stood despite the little noise that Valir made in surprise as her grip on his arm was lost and the fire blasting about them. More blue rushed by him and Death relaxed.

But that much had at least been made clear. Clearly the fire wasn't made to kill them. Protecting them, too. But why? And, more importantly, who didn't want their dead?

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Valir released a breath that Death hadn't realized she had been holding. He surveyed the land about them; it was burnt, charcoal and black ash swirled about in the small wind from the remains of the grass and trees that had been consumed by the deadly flames. Underneath their forms, like a perfect safe haven, was a circle of untouched grass, dirt, and ruffled vegetation that had survived along with them. The more he thought about the situation, the more he realized what had happened. Sighing, he turned to face the almost soundless wings as they flapped somewhere behind him, Valir shuffling to her feet in obvious panic.

"I have three words for you," Death said out loud as he focused upon the creature before them. "I hate you."

The archangel standing before him made a small noise in displeasure. Death narrowed his eyes as he took in the powerful Angel standing before him; easily standing at ten feet tall, his orange tinted wings stretched to their massive nineteen foot wingspan before curling behind him, the tips of his feathers bending just enough to reveal the glowing orange symbols that decorated their tips. The Angel was repulsively bright with the combination of his gold armor and the shining sun. His armor was typical of an angel's -bright, thick, massively built, powerful, beautiful- but contained two red straps of fabric that flapped from his belt and some splashes of color that outlined his armor. A helmet, perfectly made in bright gold colors and designs that were more than beautiful, covered his face and, though Death knew what laid underneath, he was partially stunned by the perfection of the archangel's countenance when he removed the helmet. Glorious orange eyes -brighter than Strife and Fury's combined- were framed by red tattoos that decorated only the left half of his perfect face. The tattoos, representing many different symbols and objects in the language of Angel, traveled down into the collar of his armor, suggesting the hint of more. When he turned his face just slightly, light bounced against the tattoos in a gorgeous display of flamelike art. Red strands of hair fell to his shoulders in chopped layers, which was probably the only thing not perfect on the Angel. Half of his hair tended to fall back, like he kept his hair pinned up, and the other half fell about in random directions like it couldn't care. To sum him up, he absolute perfection. But that had to be because he was an Archangel; as a high power, he had to look beautiful. The beautiful nose, the beautiful eyes, the beautiful everything. Too much like an angel that it hurt to even look at him.

Death happened to glance beside him. It was mostly just a whim; even to him, when he had already seen Archangels before, the sight of the heavenly being in front of him was blinding in perfection. His normal, human senses was hardly able to take him in. Valir, who had been living a life of Man for as long as she knew, was flabbergasted.

She stared in absolute wonder, oblivious to the fact that the archangel had literally burnt everything around them to the ground. Her green eyes were wider than saucers and her face was being to turn a red that really brought out her freckles. It was probably because of the power that he had. She had definitely seen angels before, there was no denying that one. Even with the flush decorating her cheeks, a terrified expression was rested in her tense body and she was inching herself closer to the Horseman slowly. A good move, but one that Death wasn't sure how to react too.

"Hate, Kinslayer, is a strong word." While the archangel spoke, standing proudly before them, Valir cringed. An archangel's voice was different than other Angels; it had different tones, different notes to their musical voice that seemed so perfect -even for a man- that made everything tune in and listen. The strength it represented by saying just a few words was sometimes overpowering.

"Yes, but I would use it for you and most of your little group, Jophiel," Death grunted, tightening his grip on Harvester.

Jophiel. Guardian of the Tree of Life. He has been guarding it since the very creation of the massive plant; if any archangel had truthfully seen Jesus, this would probably be the one. Like any Angel, his true age was impossible to spot with the heavenly gift of never having to age though there was a calmness to his nature that betrayed the true side of him. Death had seen that side of him only once; one of the older demon lords had approached the Tree and, with a small sweep of his arm and an angry roar, the demon had sizzled from existence. It was strange to think that someone so powerful with fire would guard something so weak against it. If Jophiel messed up, he could literally destroy the Kingdom of Man, Heaven, Hell, and the future. But, to possibly prevent that, Jophiel had a bond to the Tree. If the Tree died, Jophiel died. If Jophiel died, the Tree lived. If the Tree lived, Jophiel lived. If Jophiel lived, the Tree felt nothing. If the Tree hurt, Jophiel hurt. If Jophiel hurt, the Tree wasn't effected.

If the Tree was corrupted, then Jophiel was corrupted as well.

In a way, the Tree and Jophiel's bond made sense; if their connection was deeper and Jophiel somehow died, the Tree would fall with him. But, if the Tree fell... Death had wondered why the archangel hadn't been there when he approached the Tree of Life to save his brother's. It was optional that Jophiel had enough self control even with corruption to hole himself off before a rogue archangel was released upon the world.

"It's been a long time seen we have seen each other. Why don't we put aside our... feelings and work out this problem with the ash together," the archangel said uncomfortably.

Death lifted an eyebrow. "What do you know of the ash?"

"I know more than you," Jophiel smugly answered, giving the Horseman a quick smile before wiping it clear to return to his expressionless face. His wings shifted a little upon his back before he gestured at Valir. "And who's this?"

Looking at her out of the corner of his eyes, Death caught her tense up at the mention of her, her small hands beginning to quake a little. A protective flare burned through Death and he glared at Jophiel threateningly. "They are none of your concern."

"Anyone associated with the Horsemen is part of my concern recently. Besides, she may know about the ash." His orange eyes looked at her expectantly. Death twirled Harvester once more in his hand, hoping that the archangel would catch a hint, but he moved closer, opening his wings slightly to try and look less dangerous. It had the opposite effect. Perhaps it was because he was human now, but he felt worry creep up into his throat as Jophiel's shadow began to loom over them. "Hello, daughter of Eve," Jophiel said softly, managing to lower his voice a couple of octaves as he crouched down. "What is your name?"

"Valir," the woman breathed. Death growled at the wonderment and fright that was imbedded in her voice.

"What a beautiful and strange name." A welcoming smile spread across Jophiel's lips and his eyes darted to Death's, obviously very aware of the Horseman's position to easily slice his head off. Slowly, the archangel held a hand out toward Valir and she cringed, pushing herself further back and closer to Death. "I won't hurt you."

"Says the angel who burned this entire forest."

An emotion that Death hadn't seen in his eyes before flashed through their orange depths. "The forest had to be burned. I did not want too. The ash, however, had already planted roots here. My only option was to destroy it, or it would have spread."

"So even Heaven can't kill it?" The question was soft, but even Jophiel looked surprised that she had asked it.

"I am afraid so. Burning it only temporally fixed the problem. In a few hours, it will return." The archangel paused, taking a moment to brush back a couple strands of his red hair. He fixed his gaze back upon Valir. "But you know somewhere that is protected from the ash, don't you?"

The silence that followed surprised Death. His gaze shifted to where Valir was, watching as she transformed from the shaking woman to a sturdy, furious warrior that she had been earlier. Her green eyes were locked on his with a defensive going to them. Surprise flickered through Death. Did she know of a place that was completely protected from the ash? And she hadn't told him yet? As the sense of betrayal spread throughout him, he watched as the corner of her lips pulled up like she was almost snarling. "If I did, I wouldn't tell you."

"I don't think you understand the situation, daughter of Eve."

"I understand perfectly."

Feeling the sparks, Death swung Harvester until it was almost resting against Jophiel's throat. Orange eyes glanced up to his, an amused expression bouncing in them, and he growled threateningly as he pressed his scythes against the archangel's throat to shove him away from Valir. "Leave her alone, Jophiel."

"I was merely asking her a question," Jophiel defended himself, shooting the woman a look, who was in the process of standing. "Nothing more."

"You were prying into business that isn't yours to do so." Death tilted the blade of Harvester upwards, satisfied when Jophiel was forced to lift his chin to avoid slicing open his flawless and perfect skin. Death laughed. "Remember the last time that we met?"

Jophiel's face fell. "If I remember correctly, it was I who defeated you."

"Your mind must be hazy, Angel."

"No more than what yours is, Horseman."

"I don't care who's mind is lacking some screw or whatever and I really hate to break your bonding," Valir snapped, causing the males to look at her curiously. "But I thought that you should know something."

"What, daughter of Eve?"

Valir's jaw shifted and Death chuckled; she obviously disliked her new nickname greatly. She pointed and Death followed her finger. He heard Jophiel already shifting as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

"I think we have visitors."