Lucifer returned to his chambers after sending Grigori back to the Resia Sanctum. He briefly considered paying Borgia and Bathory another visit to inflict further torture on them, but decided against it. He yet needed them. Their punishment would last just long enough for them to understand nothing happened without his knowledge and approval. With some luck, they would serve as an example to others who believed the rules didn't apply to them.
The Devil changed into his burgundy robes and sat in his chair by the fire. Perhaps the only advantage of living in the Circles; one was never cold. As he watched the dancing flames, his mind wandered to that another time, another place where a certain someone had provided the only warmth he needed. Then a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Enter." A blonde girl in a red night dress appeared on his threshold. "Thank you for coming, Katheryn. Join me a moment."

Two cups appeared on the table, and Katheryn Howard brought them along. She took a seat opposite Lucifer and sipped her wine.

"Forgive me for yelling at you earlier," he said. "I hope you understand pretences need to be kept?"

"Of course, my Lord." Katheryn flicked her yellow hair back with a childish gesture of her hand. "Has it gone according to plan?"

"More or less. It would have been better if Borgia had not killed so many, but it is what it is. The dead will find their place in the next life."

"So, what's next?"

"Leave him simmering for now. Let him lick his wounds. I shall ensure he learns what is at stake should he forget his place. Make your way back to him after I've done so. Be his light in the dark."

"And if he finds out he's just a pawn?"

"We're all pawns in someone's game, Katheryn. But it's not my game he's playing now, is he?"

Katheryn blushed and sipped her wine again. Lucifer was still amazed at how a girl like her had worked her way up through the Circles, using the only skill she knew. When she'd eventually attracted his attention and made her way into his bed as well, it hadn't taken long for her to make connections no one else had made before. He had recognised the former Queen's charm and uncanny wits could prove useful and took her into his service. The sole condition was to keep quiet about his true identity. So far, she hadn't failed him yet. 

"You're certain Borgia doesn't suspect?" Lucifer inquired.

"Quite certain, my Lord," said Katheryn. "All we do when we're together is fuck. We never talk about his sister. Or anything else, really."

"Let's keep it that way. The last thing we need is him going rogue to search for Lucrezia."

"But even if he were to find her, it wouldn't matter, right?"

"The Borgias have a way of getting what they want." Lucifer scowled. "If he discovers where she's been this entire time, he won't stop until she's free from her prison. And knowing Borgia, he will want to destroy his darling sister's captor and take her to the only place she will ever be safe. We cannot allow that to happen. Lucrezia knows too much."

"Do you really believe the Archangels would listen to someone like her? That they would accept the Borgias to be amongst them?"

"They might be cautious about him, but not her. Lucrezia has a certain way with words. And the Archangels always see the good in people, even those who have little to none left in them. It's in their nature."

"Aha... I suppose that is why you chose me then. You saw something good in me."

The Howard girl didn't even have time to blink. Lucifer's hand was around her throat, his eyes pitch black. The fire roared high, matching his fury. 

"Do not compare me to them," he hissed. "I am not like them. Not anymore. Michael made sure of that when he cursed me to this life. I allow you in my presence and service because you are of some worth to me. But make no mistake, Katheryn. I can make you suffer beyond your wildest nightmares, little girl. You think this is Hell? You've barely scratched the surface."

He let go of the frightened girl. She gasped for breath, cowering in her chair. Lucifer turned away and walked over to the fireplace. The flames spat embers, as if they still felt his smouldering rage. He dug his nails into his palms. Katheryn's faint sobs reached him. He sighed.

"I saw something in you, yes," admitted Lucifer. "I saw a girl who had given it all up because she loved another. You were Queen of England, and yet you were unhappy. Because you did not have the one person who made life worthwhile. I understand that better than anyone."

"But... I thought angels were forbidden to love?" she asked him carefully.

"Once they could." Lucifer glanced over his shoulder, meeting Katheryn's cautious yet curious gaze. "You may leave me now. And remember..."

She quickly mimicked a key, closing a lock over her lips. Lucifer chuckled at the childlike gesture. 

"Good girl. Go on now."

Katheryn curtsied and made herself scarce, leaving the Devil once again to his solitude. He preferred it. Even in the Vale, he had only kept a select group as constant companions, despite many seeking him out. They never all gathered at once unless there was a meeting or celebration. The only one he had always allowed near, no matter the time or place, had been Michael. Until he had met Margaret of Antioch, that is.
Lucifer had never meant to fall in love with her. But he had. Since his arrival in the Circles, he had made it his priority to ruin Michael for what he had done to him and his wife. Now, he was close to achieving his goal. Decades, centuries, almost two millennia... it had been well worth the wait.

***

Michael slept uneasily. He tossed and turned restlessly until he finally gave up and lay on his side to stare out the window. The sun was creeping up, filling the sky with colour. The Archangel remembered another sunrise on top of the Castel Sant'Angelo. It seemed ages ago, but it had only been a month. How could everything have changed so much since then?
Michael closed his eyes again, but it only brought a clearer image of that day. He saw Gabriël. His friend, his brother-in-arms, his... No, not that. Maybe... someday? He recalled their conversation in the library of the Nephilim Sanctum. It played over and over in his mind. He wanted it to be real. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew it couldn't be. Gabriël had become more compliant only after he offered him the position of Lord Protector. Yet it seemed too incredible to believe that Gabriël, of all people, would use someone's feelings for personal gain. He wasn't like that.

But maybe he is now, Michael thought miserably. Damn it all, I should have read the signs earlier and stopped this from happening. I should have... protected him.

He turned away from the sun. If his life was to be overcast by shadows, he would welcome their dark embrace. But as Michael sought a better position, his hand touched something lying beside him. He opened his eyes and saw a neatly folded piece of paper. A message? He sat up and unfolded the note, gasping when he recognised Gabriël's handwriting. 

Mιƈԋαҽʅ, I'ʋҽ ԋαԃ α ʋιʂισɳ. I ʂαɯ ƚԋҽɱ. Tԋҽ Hσɾʂҽɱҽɳ ԋαʋҽ υɳιƚҽԃ, αʂ ɯҽ ϝҽαɾҽԃ ƚԋҽყ ɯσυʅԃ σɳҽ ԃαყ. Wҽ ɱυʂƚ ɳσƚ αʅʅσɯ ƚԋҽɱ ƚσ ҽʂƈαρҽ ƚԋҽ Dɾҽαɱ Rҽαʅɱ.
I Ⴆҽɠ ყσυ ƚσ ɱαƙҽ ყσυɾ ρҽαƈҽ ɯιƚԋ Sαɱαҽʅ. Yσυ ƙɳσɯ ყσυ'ʅʅ ɳҽҽԃ ԋιɱ. Mσɾρԋҽυʂ ɱυʂƚ Ⴆҽ ƈσɳʋιɳƈҽԃ ƚσ ƙҽҽρ ƚԋҽɱ ƚɾαρρҽԃ ƚԋҽɾҽ.
Aɳԃ ɯαɾɳ ƚԋҽ Nҽρԋιʅιɱ ƚσ αʅҽɾƚ ƚԋҽιɾ ϝαɱιʅιҽʂ. Aɳɳҽ'ʂ ԃαυɠԋƚҽɾ αɳԃ ɠɾαɳԃʂσɳ ɯҽɾҽ αƚƚαƈƙҽԃ Ⴆყ Bσɾɠια. Hҽ ϝσυɳԃ α ɯαყ ƚσ ɠσ αϝƚҽɾ Nҽρԋιʅιɱ ρɾσɠҽɳყ. Wҽ ԋαʋҽ α ԃυƚყ ƚσ ρɾσƚҽƈƚ ƚԋҽɱ. Mαƙҽ ʂυɾҽ ƚԋҽყ ƙɳσɯ.
I ƙɳσɯ ɯҽ'ɾҽ ɳσƚ ιɳ α ɾιɠԋƚ ρʅαƈҽ ɳσɯ, Ⴆυƚ ρʅҽαʂҽ, Mιƈԋαҽʅ... Ⴆҽ ƈαɾҽϝυʅ.
Cσɱҽ Ⴆαƈƙ ƚσ υʂ. 
GαႦɾιëʅ.

The Lord Protector clambered out of bed and dressed in his armour. His sword was still in pieces, needing time to heal itself, so he took the only other weapons he had within reach. There wasn't any time to fetch something else from the armoury. The pair of daggers strapped to his wrist cuffs would have to suffice. Yet with the Horsemen, there was little chance of that. And Samael...
Michael dreaded seeking him out. Their last meeting had gone... well, badly. But without Samael to guide him in the Dream Realm, he would certainly be trapped there. Casting his fears and trepidation aside, Michael jumped over his balcony and soared over the Vale, Gabriël's message clutched in his hand. 
The Horsemen reuniting could not have come at a worse time. Darkness was gaining ground on him. What all the Archangels had feared had finally come to pass.

Come back... Perhaps he does care, Michael thought, replaying Gabriël's last words in his head. Please be careful... If only I could make you that promise, Gabriël.

He landed at the entrance of the Hospitium and proceeded straight to Raphael's chambers. But the physician wasn't there, and his bed looked like it hadn't been slept in. Michael hastened to the apothecary. It wouldn't be the first time his friend fell asleep at his desk. And sure enough, there he was—head on the desk, papers spread everywhere around him. A forgotten cup of tea stood at the far end of the table. Michael shook the physician until he woke and shot up with a jolt. 

"Wha-Where? What's going on?" Raphael's eyes found him. "Michael? What are you doing here? That is no way to wake someone, you know?"

"Forgive me, Raphael, but I had no choice. Please listen carefully. I've received a message. The Horsemen have come together. I must see Morpheus. He must not be allowed to let them pass into our world."

"What? Who sent you this message?"

Michael showed him the crumpled note in his hand. Raphael quickly read over it and looked back up at him.

"Are you certain you can do this?" he asked.

"Even if I was not, I must. It is my duty. I will track down Samael, and hopefully, he will help me. If not... I will see Morpheus alone."

"Michael, you need Samael as your guide. You'll be lost without him."

"Yes, I know that. Which is why I came to you. If something goes wrong and you do not hear from me by noon, you must go to the Nephilim Sanctum at Resia and get Gabriël. He will be Lord Protector in my place."

Raphael nearly fell off his seat. He stammered, but nothing remotely close to a decent syllable came out of his mouth.

"He was going to become Lord Protector anyway," Michael said impatiently. "I told him I would step down if he came back. We were going to meet again in three days, but he might have to take up the mantle sooner than expected. And I would ask you to help him."

"What do I possibly know of being Lord Protector? What does Gabriël know of it? Why would you even offer your position to him, of all Archangels? He's not a warrior!"

"Raphael, please, I have no time to explain this to you! Just do as I ask. Stand by Gabriël if I do not return. And tell him... Tell him I understand if he did not mean it."

"Hang on, you can't just drop this on me and-hey, wait a minute! Michael, come back! Michael!"

***

She could hear it. The heart-breaking sound of a baby crying. But where did it come from? Joan opened every door and searched every room. There was no trace of the poor child anywhere. Wherever she turned, the sound was constant, not farther or nearer from her. 

Keep looking, she said to herself. Just keep looking. 

Joan climbed the stairs, higher and higher, until she stumbled to the ground. She landed in something wet and sticky. A light suddenly shone above her. It illuminated everything around her and revealed where she was - the top of the Castel Sant'Angelo. Her eyes widened at the sight before her - her mother, Catherine, Margaret, Raphael... all dead.
Their bodies were lying on the ground like discarded puppets. Their blood painted the stones crimson. With a shock, Joan realised that was what was on her hands. On her clothes. What was this? What had happened to them? 
A groan attracted her attention. She turned her head toward the noise. Michael lay at the base of his statue. He was still alive, but barely. She jumped up to help him, but a hand closed around her wrist, halting her abruptly. 

"G-Gabriël?" Joan's voice faltered.

He looked at her with empty eyes. Shadows surrounded him, casting him into utter darkness. 

"Poor little Fallen Angel." Lucifer's voice echoed through the air. "This is not what you wanted, is it? You just wanted your baby. And your Gabriël. They are both mine now. But you can still save them all. You can stop this from happening. Join me, and this will never be."

The Devil appeared at Gabriël's side. The baby was in his arms, eerily silent. A hooded man with ominous black wings stepped out from behind them. Joan tried to look at his face, but he kept it well hidden. Lucifer extended his hand to her and spoke, "Gabriël made his vow. You must too. Or everything you love will be destroyed."

The baby stirred in the Devil's arms. All Joan wanted was to hold it close to her and never let it go. One step forward was all she could take. Lucifer had vanished, taking the baby with him. And as he went, four ghostly figures sprang up from the ground. They looked like warriors, ready for battle.
White armour with bow and arrow. Red armour wielding a sword. Black rags, holding a pair of scales. And the fourth, a shrouded skeleton, the most frightening of all. From behind each spectre, a horse came galloping. Each animal was just as terrifying as its rider.
Joan tried to get free from Gabriël, but he wouldn't release her. Fear took hold of her. She struggled and screamed until she fell to her knees. What was she to do? How could she stop this? How could she save them all? She was nothing. 

"Do not... give up." Michael's faint voice made Joan look back at him. "It is up to you now, Joan. Remember your oath. You were granted another chance."

The dark-winged angel stepped towards the wounded Lord Protector, his sword swinging as he walked.

"You are more than what you believe you are. Remember..."

One clean strike. Michael's body slumped. His head rolled to the other corpses on the ground. When it stopped, his dull blue-grey eyes stared at Joan. She cried out his name. Something snapped within her. There was a sudden pull at her heart. A fire burning within her. A fire that engulfed her entire body. It rapidly spread to Gabriël, and soon, a heavenly glow surrounded them both. 
His wings unfolded, purer and more powerful than she had ever seen them before. Then her own sprouted from between her shoulder blades. She stared at the new, shining feathers. They were magnificent, basking in golden radiance.
The tip of Gabriël's wings touched hers as they were carried up by the gale. The higher they went, the brighter the surrounding fire burned. It burned the dark figures and corpses on the Castel Sant'Angelo away. Joan and Gabriël's wings came closer, wrapping them in an embrace. His heartbeat matched hers perfectly. Then she sensed something within her. Something warm. Something good.

Joan shot up with a burning at her bosom. She put her hand to her chest and felt a strange sensation in her belly. She focused on that feeling. Tears welled in her eyes.
Her baby had moved.