Cesare had not left his chamber since the Master gave him Lucrezia's medallion. He wore it around his neck, its weight a reminder of what was at stake should he displease the Devil again. The Impaler came to persuade him to re-join the training, but Cesare had no choice but to turn Tepes away, naming him temporary commander. 
The injuries he'd received during his attack on the Boleyn whelp were completely healed – those on the surface, anyway. The ones within had only grown. As the demon stood at his window and stared at the fires in the Circles, Cesare imagined every way he could make all his enemies suffer. To have been bested by the Nephilim again was salt in his already wounded pride. Yet, for now, he would have to endure it. However much he hated it, Cesare would wait until he was given orders to train, strike, kill, and do whatever else was required. The risk of anything happening to Lucrezia was too great.

There was a soft, hesitant knock on the door. Cesare didn't answer. Another knock. The door creaked as it opened. Whoever had knocked entered with shuffling feet. There was a slight rustling of a dress. Soft breathing behind him. A light touch on his shoulder. The whispering tone of a familiar voice, "My Lord."

"What are you doing here, Katheryn?" Cesare asked wearily.

"I begged the Master to let me see you. He granted me a few hours."

"Leave me alone."

"No, I cannot bear to leave you again. Not like this. Please, my Lord... Cesare."

Cesare turned to face her. He had intended to make her leave, but her beauty stopped him. She was breathtaking. Yellow ringlets created a sort of aura around her head. A silver chain graced her neck, a tear-shaped pearl at her bosom. It somehow complimented the scar that showed a girl decapitated in life.
Kitty pulled the ribbon of her red gown loose, revealing her white breasts. Cesare's breath caught at the sight of them. How long had it been since he'd last held those perky hills? 

"I tried so hard to convince the Master," she tempted, drawing closer to him. "I had to see you."

"Why?" asked Cesare, still staring at her. "Why would you risk yourself?"

"Because I failed you. I promised vengeance when all I did was wound you further. Please, Cesare, forgive me."

"No, you provided me with the tool of my vengeance. I was the one who —"

Kitty silenced him by firmly pressing her lips on his. She placed her hands on the back of his neck, while Cesare's rested on her hips. One kiss was all it took to make him forget about his troubles. One kiss was all it took to make him realise how much he craved this girl's company. He drowned in Kitty. Her allure, her touch, the scent of roses from her skin and hair... It was too much.
They moved, still kissing, towards the bed. Cesare abandoned Kitty's mouth as he pulled the nightgown down her body. She stepped out and sat on her knees on the edge of the bed, watching him remove his shirt. Impatient to continue, Kitty reached out to unbuckle his belt, but Cesare slapped her hand away and roughly pushed her onto the mattress. He lay on top of her and kissed her fervently, pinning her hands above her head. Kitty squirmed underneath him, rolling her hips against him. Cesare groaned at the friction and smirked. Always so impatient. Very well. 

Moving down, Cesare left Kitty's lips and kissed her neck to her collarbone and bosom. Every few seconds, he lingered to suckle her skin, leaving his mark on her. When he finally got to her breast, Cesare licked it slowly. Over the hill, to that taunt peak. His tongue rolled around Kitty's nipple a few times, and then he bit her. Hard.
Kitty gasped and moaned at the double stimulation of Cesare's bites and coarse squeezes. She arched her back, pushing her chest up to him. He hummed in appreciation and trailed one hand across her belly. The blonde shivered as he brushed the tip of his fingers over her mound before delving between her legs.
Cesare's arousal grew when he found her wet with desire for him. He could just get it over with now and fuck her mercilessly, but she had risked herself into coming here. That deserved a reward. Not to mention that he really wanted to taste her.

"Spread your legs for me."

In a swift move, Cesare slid off her and off the bed, and held off a moment so Kitty could do as she'd been told. He knelt in front of her, eyeing her slick folds as they glistened with her juices. Like a famished wolf, Cesare attacked Kitty to devour her, fingers digging into her hips as he kept her in place. All she could do was pull her knees up as he pleasured her, licking her clit and pushing his tongue into her every so often. 
The melodious sound of the slave girl's whimpers was music to Cesare's ears. Her hands searched for his black, wavy locks. His manhood throbbed and fought the constriction of his pants. He held Kitty down with one hand and hurriedly released his erect member with the other. A grunt escaped Cesare as he pumped himself. It had been centuries since he'd done that. The horrors outside the palace didn't allow self-gratification, nor was there any privacy for it. And as soon as his rank had granted him the privilege, he had the female slaves take care of that need for him.
Kitty's sudden cry snapped Cesare out of his thoughts. He flicked his tongue hard against her clit, letting Kitty roll into another rattling orgasm. She tapped his shoulder urgently, and Cesare drew back from between her legs to give her a moment. He looked up at the trembling girl, who was completely at his mercy. Her cheeks were flushed, and she panted heavily, desperate to regain her breath. Then her eyes found his. And they were begging him to take her.

As Cesare got up to slip off his pants, Kitty pushed herself back on the bed and spread her legs again. He climbed on top of her, immediately plunging his shaft inside her. Kitty screamed and snatched the sheets underneath her, but Cesare didn't give her time to adjust. They had been down this road so many times before; she knew exactly what she'd got herself into.
Cesare's movements were quick and strong. He felt Kitty's walls clenching around his member every time he drove into her. Her lewd moans grew louder as she met his thrusts. Spurred on by the heat of the moment, Cesare whisked her onto his lap. Kitty's nails dug into his shoulders, and he leaned his upper body back so they could move toward each other in unison. 

"Oh, God, Cesare, yes! Keep fucking me like that! Kee—AAH!"

Cesare felt Kitty's body convulse as she reached her high again. Her cries echoed throughout the room. Still chasing his own release, Cesare pushed Kitty back into the mattress. His thrusts grew wilder, and tears rolled from the corners of her eyes. She whimpered and clutched him, but Cesare didn't care if he was hurting her. He kept going, faster, harder, deeper, until he finally exploded with a drawn-out, animalistic groan.

Completely exhausted, Cesare dropped on top of Kitty. He willed his racing heart to steady and listened to hers as he rested his head at her bosom. With a shock, he suddenly realised he hadn't pulled out. Not that there was any danger of anything happening, but... it had been some time since he had finished inside a woman. Not since he'd been alive, in fact. That part had always seemed too intimate, and he only did it with someone he had grown fond of.
Cesare raised himself up with wobbling arms and gazed down at Kitty. She smiled at him — content, blissful even — before she caught his lips in a tender kiss. He reciprocated, inexplicably needing that bit of affection. After all, they were two lovers reunited after spending too much time apart. Lovers...
The necklace around Cesare's neck suddenly weighed heavier than ever.

***

After bringing the Howard girl to the Borgia Bastard's room, Grigori was returning to his own room when a figure passed and nearly pushed him against the wall. He recognised the Angel of Death as the man walked steadfastly to the Master's chambers. Grigori hesitated a moment, then followed him. He did not trust that creature and believed it best to know all there was to know about it. The door of the Master's chambers was open, so he hid in the shadows to listen.

"I am telling you, he's not even looking for Michael himself! The other Archangels are doing the work for him. All he cares about is getting back to the girl. Meanwhile, I am stuck dealing with the mess the Horsemen are creating. I'm beginning to think Michael was right. Allowing their escape was a dangerous move, even if they are part of your big plan to win the Final Battle."

"Oh, Samael, stop your whining." The Master's voice. Annoyed, yet slightly... concerned? "You're right, though. I had hoped Gabriël would lead the search himself. After all, the sooner Michael returns, the sooner he can be with Joan."

"You'd allow him to find her?"

"I'd allow him the chance to make a new deal. Joan made my previous one with Gabriël void, but if he's smart and desperate enough, he can play out the same hand she did."

"I really don't understand why you want them, too. You'll have the baby in a few months — weeks, if Morpheus does what he's told. That's who you really want, isn't it?"

"The child is part of it, yes. But you, of all people, should know that it's difficult to grow up an orphan. And despite what they all say of me, I am not completely heartless."

"And how the hell do I fit into all of this? Will you acknowledge me as you said you would, or am I just your patsy? A punching bag for the Archangels and you to use whenever you want? Well, I won't have it, you hear me? You promised me we would have our vengeance! You promised me I'd stand by your side!"

Grigori did not like the tone of Samael's voice at all. No one spoke to the Master like that. And with did he mean? The servant inched closer to peek inside the room. The Angel of Death stood beside the Devil, his chest puffing up with every breath. Grigori only saw the deformed half of his face. It somehow seemed even more twisted now.  

"You've done your part and help up the deception admirably up so far," placated the Master. "Your duty now lies with the dead, though as you've already noticed, those touched by the Horsemen are, regrettably, doomed. A necessary sacrifice, I fear. Do what you can and keep up pretences for as long as is necessary. When the time comes, you will stand with me in your rightful place. You have my word, my son."

Grigori's head snapped up. His what?

***

Their wings were wet from the rain. The sky was grey, and thunder clouds packed together, making it impossible for the sun to shine. The weather wasn't ideal for flying, but Gabriël and Raphael persisted. Finally, they saw a mountain rise before them.

"Here?" yelled Raphael through the storm. "Uriël lives here?"

"Last I heard, yes," answered Gabriël.

The Archangels landed on a path and hastily hid between the trees. No reasonable mortal would climb the steps that led to the mountain's peak in this deluge, but better safe than sorry. The leaves covered them, providing shelter against the rain. Their wings fluttered, spraying droplets all around them. Both shivered when they retracted into them.

"Where to now?" asked Raphael.

"Not sure. All Michael told me was he lived in a cave near to the path at the top of Adam's Peak. Maybe you can find him?"

"Gabriël, just because I possess part of the Tree of Life, does not mean I control all trees. What did you even want me to do, make them clear the way for us?"

But that was exactly what happened. The roots lifted from the earth as the trees crawled from their place. A new path formed, revealing a figure dressed in a grey hooded robe approached. The man chuckled.

"Forgive me. I knew you would say that, Raphael. I could not resist a little joke to lighten the mood."

"Oh ha-ha, hilarious, Uriël," snapped Raphael. "In case you missed it, now isn't the time for shenanigans."

"Rafe, calm down," shushed Gabriël. "He meant nothing by it."

He greeted Uriël with an embrace. The hood fell off. Gabriël drew back when he looked at his fellow Archangel. He had forgotten Uriël was blindfolded. The last time Gabriël had seen him without one was after they brought Adam and Eve here to continue their lives outside of Paradise. Uriël had asked God to remove his eyes so he could only see what he was meant to see, but the Lord had refused. So instead, he resorted to always wear a blindfold. He claimed it helped him to better understand what was real and what wasn't. To better grasp certainty from possibility.

"Don't look so glum, Gabriël." Uriël smiled. "I chose this, remember?"

"It's just... It's been too long."

"Indeed, brother."

That was another thing. Uriël was the only one among the Archangels who saw them all as siblings. They were all 'born' together, so it made sense to him. It was also how everyone saw Uriël, even if some had a more liberal view and once dared to pursue deeper and more romantic relationships with each other.
Uriël embraced Raphael as well and then guided them through the jungle to his home. As they walked, indulging in a bit of small-talk, asking about this and that, Gabriël noticed something. There were no animals around. No birds in the trees, no insects buzzing around, no fish in the stream. Nothing. He didn't like it one bit and kept a hand on Michael's sword as they walked on.

The entrance to the Seer's cave lay hidden on a cliff behind a wall of hanging ivy, where no mortal could reach it. Uriël kept things basic; a homemade bed of wood, straw, and leaves with blankets, a few clay bowls, and cups... He grew a lovely little garden in the back. A crack through the rocks provided sunlight, and there was water from a spring. It made Gabriël think about the caverns in the Vale.
They settled around a small fire-pit. Uriël's features were much clearer now. His blindfold covered his white eyes, two clear dots against a dark-skinned face if allowed their freedom. Though he was as youthful as Gabriël and Raphael, his long white hair, bound in dreads, made him look older. His robes were simple, but appeared comfortable. A mortal could easily mistake him for a hermit priest or a monk. 

"Well, let's get to it then." Uriël sat across from the two other Archangels. "I know why you're here, of course. What is it you wish to know first?"

"Do you know where Michael is?" asked Gabriël immediately.

"I have a suspicion, but I'm not certain. There are realms, persons too, that I can't see. Michael disappeared from my view when he entered the Dream Realm with Samael. I cannot say if he's still there or if he crossed into another world."

"Can you find someone else for me, then? A Fallen Angel?"

Gabriël pretended not to hear Raphael sigh. He had to try. 

"You speak of Joan?" Uriël shook his head. "I'm sorry, brother. She, too, is gone from my gaze."

"Never mind. She's clever. She'll find a way to reach me."

"Gabriël, the runes." Raphael nudged him.

"Huh? Oh, right! Uriël, you had Metatron write a chronicle about our runes. I've read it, but it made little sense. I was hoping you could help me understand them better—particularly Michael's and my own."

"What about mine?" asked Raphael, curiously.

"No offence, but yours was fairly easy. Compared to ours, I mean. 'From Heaven's Breath, leaves of Life shall grow evermore when Healer's heart and educated mind unite.' It wasn't hard to figure out."

"Oh, yeah, not hard at all. And yours?"

"'When the Messenger no longer spreads the Word, when Mercy and Peace take up Justice's Sword, when the heart is stirred and what was broken is mended, through Heaven's Water, the Gift of Miracle is bestowed'."

"Okay, you win." Raphael scratched his head. "Hm, do you think that bit about the heart stirring refers to Joan?"

"It can't be anything else. As for the rest..."

Gabriël looked at the Seer, afraid to voice his thoughts. Uriël must have sensed this. He smiled and waved his hand for Gabriël to continue. 

"Go on," he said. "Let's hear it."

"It's been weeks since the Lord last spoke to me," admitted Gabriël. "I used to hear Him almost every day, but now... That is what's broken, isn't it? My bond with Him?"

"Give me your arm. The one with your rune."

Gabriël did as he was told. Uriël's icy touch made the golden rune appear clearly. It had all but vanished. Only the upper-left corner remained.

"Your vow to Lucifer was the trigger," explained Uriël. "Leaving the Vale caused further harm, but not all is lost. In your heart, you are still loyal to the Heavens. You came back when we needed you. And you even took up Michael's sword."

"Mercy and Peace take up Justice's Sword," said Raphael slowly, looking at Gabriël.

"Precisely," said Uriël. "That is the bond that was really broken, Gabriël. Your bond with your friend and brother, with someone you trusted your whole life. Not just from his end but from yours too when you were willing to Michael's feeling for you to further you own device. All you can do to make your choice is follow your heart, as you've always done."

I can't follow my heart, thought Gabriël miserably. It's screaming at me to leave everything behind. To find Joan and take her somewhere no one will ever find us. But I can't. I'd be a coward if I did. Too many people depend on me. I'm stuck as long as Michael...

"Gabriël, are you listening?"

"Sorry, what?" Gabriël blinked away his thoughts and turned to Raphael.

"What was Michael's text?" repeated the physician. "In the scroll, I mean. Uriël can't remember."

"Well, it has been almost two thousand years, Raphael," reacted Uriël, piqued at the comment. "And you're one to talk! You can barely remember where you left your sandals when you wake up in the morning."

"'Leader of all, yet most in need of all. Heaven's Fire, Heaven's Light. Retrieve the one to darkness lost. Two hearts once more as one'. I really hope that doesn't mean I have to use his sword. Michael is the only one who can control Heaven's Fire."

"Don't worry, you won't have to do that." Uriël snickered. "Michael's prophecy is about him. You have nothing to do with it."

"That's um... comforting? But how do I find Michael, then? He's the one lost to darkness, isn't he?"

"Good Lord, sometimes I wonder how you all manage without me. I've just told you it was Michael's prophecy. He is the one who needs to retrieve that lost soul, not you."

"Who? Who does he need to — Uriël?"

The Seer was trembling. Gabriël and Raphael hurriedly walked to him. This had happened before. It was one of the reasons the other Archangels, Raphael foremost, had been opposed to him living alone on Earth. When a vision came, he was left utterly vulnerable. 
Uriël suddenly grabbed both of them and threw his head back. He coughed up blood, his body shaking even more violently now. Gabriël desperately looked at Raphael, hoping he would react, but the physician only eased him onto the floor, turning him to his side. Blood continued to trickle from Uriël's mouth.

"Rafe —"

"Do nothing," Raphael warned Gabriël. "Just let it happen."

Uriël's seizing suddenly stopped. He lay still, barely breathing. Raphael leaned in to examine him, but then uttered a startled yelp when the Seer grasped at his clothes.

"Y-You both need to leave!" 

The fire went out. Darkness took over. An icy chill filled the cave. The hairs on Gabriël's neck rose. This could only mean one thing. He helped Uriël to his feet and handed him to Raphael.

"Get him back to the Vale," he ordered. "I'll keep them busy."

"Gabriël, you cannot face them on your own."

"No discussion, Rafe. Go!"

All Gabriël could do was try to give Raphael and Uriël enough time to escape. With Michael's sword drawn, he ran out of the cave to meet his foes. The rain had got worse. Lightning lit up the sky. In the brief flash, Gabriël found himself surrounded by them — the Four Horsemen. 
The White Archer, known as Pestilence, held his bow ready. His arrows were dipped in the poison he used to sicken the Earth and all creatures living in it. On his left stood the Red Knight, whose armour forever dripped with the blood of his victims. He was War, always the first to deal a blow, revelling in the ensuing slaughter.
The third was Famine. A gaunt figure with only a few black rags about him. In his left hand, he held a scale, which he used to tip the balance of who ate and who starved. Plenty for one, nothing for the other. Not a proper weapon, but still deadly.
And the last stood the leader of them all. The skeleton in an ashen cloak did not need swords, arrows, or scales. One touch was all it took to trap souls in the rift forever.

"Give us the Seer." Death's chilly voice, both male and female, echoed through the air.

"What do you want with him?" demanded Gabriël.

"Not... your... businesssss." Famine's body cramped up with every word, like something pulled at his insides and made him gasp for breath before speaking.

"If you want him, you'll have to go through me!"

"Ssso... be... it."

Gabriël spun around and parred War's attack with Michael's sword. The force behind his the Horseman's swing was immense. He deflected the blows as best he could, but he wasn't used to the weight of Michael's weapon, never having used it before. Suddenly, Gabriël caught a white shaft heading his way from the corner of his eye, and he dived to the ground, rolling away just in time. He couldn't allow himself to get hit by those arrows.
Quickly, Gabriël stood up and dared to throw a glance between his foes and the two others. Death and Famine kept themselves apart from any fight, but their mere presence gave strength to the other two. That's why they had been imprisoned separately in the Dream Realm, each in their own nightmare of a world thriving without them. How was he supposed to hold these beings off now they had reunited? How could he —?
Gabriël suddenly noticed his sleeve was cut open. His rune shimmered as raindrops trickled from his wrist. Water falling from the Heavens. 

It's been too long since I've done this. But I have no choice. I need to keep them busy.

He dropped Michael's sword and stretched out his arms, his head faced up toward the sky, and his eyes closed. He sensed the surrounding water, every drop on the ground, the leaves, the stream, the Horsemen even... And just as War's sword threatened to strike Gabriël, the raindrops came together to shield him from harm. The Red Knight took a step back and allowed Pestilence to fire his arrows, but they, too, were stopped by the watery wall.
Gabriël sighed in relief at their futile attempts to touch him, before realising to his dismay it was only a temporary victory. Death stepped forward and put a hand on the shield. The drops vaporised. The skeleton was killing the water. Summoning his full might, Gabriël did his best to focus on the shield and gather the rain as the deluge poured down around him. It took everything out of him, and as his arms began to shake, he knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer.

"Looks like you could use a hand."

Gabriël's head jerked up at the sound of the familiar and unexpected voice. 

"Lucifer?"