Whatever Morpheus had done to expedite time worked a little too well. Joan's belly grew at an alarming speed. Even pregnant of a supernatural baby, she was supposed to have months left, but every time she woke up from a nap (because there was no such thing as a good night's sleep in the godforsaken place), it seemed another week had been taken from her.
While Joan lost all sense of time, she noticed the others in the palace seemed unaffected by the sudden time lapse. When she asked Leonora about it, the maidservant explained that the rest of Morpheus's involuntary staff knew what was happening, but simply didn't care anymore. How time passed didn't matter to those trapped for all eternity.

Though Leonora was Joan's ally in the Dream Realm, she was still under Morpheus's control, so there was only so much Joan could truly entrust her with. Her conversation with Michael, for instance, or that she'd actually seen and spoken with her own daughter were things she kept this hidden not only for her own safety, but for Leonora's. And Ragazzino's too.
The boy was always around. Either stalking them from pillar to pillar or hidden behind a tree or bush in the garden. Only rarely did he come up to the girls to speak with them. And when he did, he spoke in riddles. At least, Leonora thought they were riddles. Joan believed Ragazzino to be much cleverer than he appeared. There was something about him she recognised, though she couldn't put her finger on it. But despite the boy's shrewdness, neither he nor Leonora could help Joan get back inside the room where Michael was held.

Joan hoped the little girl growing inside her let the Archangel know she was giving up, but there was no way she could know for sure. She hadn't seen him, nor her daughter, in her dreams again. Were it not for the fluttering in her belly, Joan would have been concerned something had happened. But those faint strokes, soft and warm like the wings of an angel, reassured her all was... as well as they could be.
Though Joan still detested Michael, she couldn't let Lucifer and Morpheus torment him like that. There was good in him, too. She'd witnessed it firsthand during her life and later in the Vale. Yet despite Michael's appeal to atone for his sins, Joan wasn't ready to forgive him for all he had done, not only to her, but Margaret, too. And she doubted Gabriël would, either. He could be damn stubborn if he wanted to be, especially in something like this.

Gabriël... He still hadn't come for her. Morpheus sent her note to the Nephilim at Resia, and Joan was sure Anne had given it to Gabriël by now. She wondered if she perhaps made her message too complex. Gabriël wasn't a military man like Michael, who had taught her how to send secret messages in a seemingly ordinary letter, but he was no dunce either. Joan had seen him rebuild some of Da Vinci's most intricate machines out of boredom, even improving them. She was certain Gabriël knew a thing or two about coding, so why wasn't he here yet?
Then Joan recalled there was someone she's failed to take into consideration. The Blood Countess still guarded the Dream Realm. She lurked in the dark, watching Joan's every move and casting spells to ensure no one could enter Morpheus' world. Gabriël could be at the very door she'd stepped through, hindered by that witch's magic. 
Joan hoped — prayed, really — that he would find her in time. Lucifer told her things were beings prepared for the delivery, but he had failed to say where that was. This was their only chance. Gabriël had to come. He just had to.

***

An entire week had gone by. An infernal week. Gabriël was tired. So very tired. The Nephilim had received Peter's warning, and — as expected — most elected to stay in their Sanctum and stand their ground. Only those with little children immediately evacuated to the Castel Sant'Angelo in Rome. They closed off the fortress to mortals and put up defensive wards in the surrounding area, but all were well aware casualties were bound to fall when the battle began. 
Gabriël had ordered the Resia Nephilim to evacuate as well, but they refused. He had hoped they would listen to reason, considering the enemy they were to face. But even the mortal family members stayed and trained. They were all prepared to fight. They were all prepared to die.

And then there was the matter of Azrael. In the past week, the Archangels had scoured the Earth in search of both Angels of Death, but there was no trace of them. It did not come as a surprise that Samael ignored Gabriël's summons (it only furthered Gabriël's suspicions), but what was cause for concern was the dereliction of his duties. Lost souls roamed the Mortal Realm, causing fear and panic in an already unsteady world. Gabriël was forced to send other angels to retrieve them, but each one risked getting attacked by demons or worse — the Four Horsemen.
Their influence had grown substantially, and each continent was infected. It always started the same; first, the crops died, and the food and water wilted away. Then came disease and violence. Most survivors fought amongst themselves to do just that; survive. But some grew wild and crazed and didn't care why they had blood on their hands. At the end of the day, there was only one outcome — death.
Everyone in the Vale worked on methods for catching them. The physicians made poisons and other concoctions to incapacitate them; the artistas designed traps, and the mage writers worked on spells. But no matter what they tried, nothing seemed to work.

Gabriël felt ashamed that, despite everything going on, he still wanted to find Joan more than anything. He delegated the search for Michael to other Archangels, but he couldn't entrust them with Joan. Besides Raphael, none of them knew she was expecting his child. There was already so much to worry about; Gabriël hadn't deemed it wise to inform them of the real reason he had left at such a tenuous time.
Isabelle had returned Joan's letter to Gabriël, finding nothing in the paper or ink but the poppy extract. He hadn't bothered to read the message again; the words were etched in his memory. Yet tonight, for some reason, he pulled it and the note Joan left at the Sanctum for him out from underneath Michael's pillow. He stared at the letters a few moments, then clutched them to his chest. This was all he had of her. When an angel fell, all their belongings simply ceased to exist. Their home disappeared, and if they had a Heavenly Horse, the bond with their faithful companions was severed. Finding Spiritus utterly alone a few days ago at the Agora as the white stallion had fruitlessly searched the Vale for his owner had brought Gabriël to tears. His own horse, Thirza, had fortunately not been far behind, and both animals were safe with the others in the main stable.
Gabriël realised then that he hadn't been to his own home since before his imprisonment in the catacombs. What for even? Everything he needed was right here, including his clothes. No one bothered to look for Gabriël at home. They knew the Lord Protector was always in the Villa. Always.

Sighing, Gabriël walked onto the balcony. The once peaceful Vale was abuzz with utter chaos. Lights were on everywhere, even though it was well past midnight. The sounds of agitated voices, metal clinking, horses racing, and wings flapping resonated through the air. There was no music, no singing, no laughter. So much had changed in so little time.
He couldn't help but feel guilty for being partly responsible for it all. But Gabriël didn't regret being with Joan, not for one minute. She was innocent, a pawn in a cruel game between two higher powers. What Gabriël regretted was his own weakness. And what he had done. The Devil may have manipulated him, but Lucifer had done so only by exposing the truth. Michael's past and his own actions had brought them to this point.
Gabriël gloomily leaned against the balcony, his head down and his lover's last note still in his hand. The paper was crumpled, but when his eyes wandered over it, he noticed something peculiar. He turned at the sound of footsteps fast approaching.

"Gabriël, we need you," said Raphael, anxiously. "The Sanct—"

"Rafe, look at the letters," interrupted Gabriël.

"What? There's no time to —"

"Please, just look at the letters at the beginning of each sentence." Gabriël insistently pushed Joan's note into the physician's hands. "Do they... form a word?"

Raphael grunted and did as Gabriël asked. He furrowed his brow, took a pencil out of his robe, and underlined the letters one by one. When he was done, his eyes widened, and he showed Gabriël what the letters revealed.

𝔐𝔶 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔊𝔞𝔟𝔯𝔦ë𝔩,
𝔒𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔢 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔴 ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔶𝔬𝔲, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔫𝔬 𝔠𝔥𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 ℑ 𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔶 𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰. 𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔲𝔰 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔥, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔪𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫. ℌ𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶.
𝔈𝔱 𝔱𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔲𝔧𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰 𝔡𝔞𝔫𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔠œ𝔲𝔯 — 𝔘𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶 ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔢.
𝔖𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴.
𝔍𝔬𝔞𝔫

"Son of bitch." Gabriël raked his hand through his hair. "Of course, it all makes sense now! The poppy extract, the odd phrasing, and even that last sentence! She gave me her location all along!"

"Gabriël, the Lord of Dreams was the one who held the Horsemen captive, and whom Michael went to see before he disappeared. Do you think that —"

"He's in on this? I'm starting to. Dammit, I should have known."

"But we've done nothing to the man," said Raphael. "Why would he do this?"

"He'll have made a deal with Lucifer. One that benefits him. Morpheus only ever does anything for himself." Gabriël pushed past Raphael and grabbed Michael's sword from beside the bed. "I know one of the entrances to Dream Realm. We'll recall the other Archangels and —"

"No, wait!" Raphael grabbed him by the arm. "You must get to the Castel Sant'Angelo first. Thomas Wyatt sent word to Peter; they were attacked."

Gabriël froze at the words.

"Are... Are they all right?" he asked.

"No. Not everyone made it out alive."

***

It was an unusually quiet evening in the Sanctum hidden underneath the surface of Lago di Resia. The Nephilim were in the training room while their families slept. They all wore their combat gear, wanting to be prepared for anything at all times. Juan and Richard sparred while Hypatia and Thomas worked on a spell. Olympe leaned with her back against a wall, watching Anne shoot arrow after arrow. 

"I hate this waiting," said Olympe.

"Moi aussi," concurred Anne.

"Maybe we should have listened to Gabriël. We should have evacuated to Rome. At least our families should have."

"We told them to go." Anne released another arrow. "It was their choice to stay. We've prepared them the best we could. And you've secured the Sanctum with some terrifying traps. We're as ready as we'll ever be."

"I know, but I can't shake the feeling that something bad is about to happen. There is this... haunting chill around me. I cannot shake it."

Anne sighed and faced Olympe. "I know what you mean. I have it too."

All of a sudden, a white light flashed through the Sanctum. The Nephilim all looked at each other, waiting for someone to voice what they were all fearing.

"What do you think?" Thomas finally asked his wife.

"Gabriël would've let us know if an Archangel decided to pay us a visit," answered Anne, taking extra arrows for her quiver.

"My thoughts exactly. Right, let's go then. We all know what to do. Do not face an enemy on your own, and for God's sake, be careful."

Thomas ran out of the room after meeting Anne's strengthening gaze, followed swiftly by Richard, who briefly lowered his head to Hypatia for her blessing. Only Juan lingered. He took Olympe in his arms and kissed her fiercely.

"Stay with Hypatia," he told her. "Stay safe."

"You stay with Richard," said Olympe, pinching his hand one last time. "Je t'aime."

"Para siempre, querida."

Juan hurried after Thomas and Richard while the women left in the opposite direction. Hypatia and Olympe went to get the children, but Anne halted halfway through the corridor. She whistled sharply, and in a flash, her gyrfalcon appeared above her.

"Find him," she said. "Find Borgia."

The bird flew away at its mistress's order. A heart-piercing scream suddenly echoed through the Sanctum. Anne didn't waste a second and sped towards the source. She turned the corner to the bed-chambers and froze, her heart sinking at the scene before her.
Coraline lay slumped against the wall, unconscious and pale as death. Her clothes were shredded, and she had scratches all over her body. Adeline stood over her, a blood-stained sword in her trembling hand; she'd cut off the teenager's leg above the knee. It was blackened and festering, several bite marks clearly visible at the ankle and through the torn fabric of the jeans.
Upon hearing the most gruesome shrieks, Anne tore her eyes away from Adeline and Coraline to see Salomé standing in the opening of a bedroom. Demons rampaged, trying to claw their way out, but Salomé kept her magic force field up, containing the chaos within the room.

"Salomé! Ice spell, hurry!" yelled Anne.

A blue-ish glow lit up the woman's fingertips. The room and each demon trapped within froze instantly. Anne drew and fired her arrow in one swift movement. The ice cracked as soon as the tip pierced its surface. It created a chain reaction, and within seconds, every demon shattered into a million pieces.
With the immediate threat dealt, the three women focussed on the injured teenager. Salomé tied her belt around her daughter's leg to form a tourniquet while Anne bound the stump with Salomé's scarf. Adelin's sword clattered to the ground. The adrenaline and shock were kicking in.

"W-We heard Coraline scream," she uttered in an unsteady voice. "S-She was... holding on by the door. I-I pulled her away and... I'm so sorry, Salomé."

"My daughter is still alive, Adeline. You have nothing to be sorry for. You did what you had to do. We need to keep her lying flat to move her."

Anne and Adeline quickly dragged a mattress from the nearest room and helped place Coraline on top. Salomé cast a levitation spell, lifting the mattress and her daughter into the air.

"You know where to go," said Anne. "Stay together."

"I-I need to find Remy." Adeline's eyes stood frantically. "I need to get my son!"

"Hypatia and Olympe will take care of the other children. Now, do as I say, and help Salomé with Coraline. I'll make sure nothing follows you. Hurry now."

Adeline hesitated briefly, then nodded and picked up her sword. She held it raised and walked ahead while Salomé floated Coraline and the mattress after her. Anne took a deep breath, steadying herself against the wall. 

God, I beseech you... Help us.

A screech startled her, and her head jerked up. The gyrfalcon had come to find her; it had found its prey. With her bow clutched in her hand, Anne followed the predatory bird. The last few minutes played over in her mind, fuelling her anger against Borgia. He would not attack any more of her family.
This ended tonight.