Cesare smiled maniacally, revelling in the ongoing pandemonium. Things were going much better than expected. The Master would be pleased. After the first few disappointing raids under the Impaler's leadership, Cesare'd mustered his courage and requested to be given command of the assault on Resia. Much to his surprise, the Devil gave his consent and ordered his pet monk to ensure every lower demon and hell beast Cesare wanted to take along could enter the Sanctum as well. The concoction did not work as long on the beasts as it did on Cesare and the others, but it didn't matter. Even with over a third dead already, the remaining numbers yet overwhelmed the Nephilim.
Two young women fought back to back with their swords, holding of the group led by de Rais, but they were tiring. A man attempted to get to them, foolishly using his bare hands to fight the hell beasts after losing his weapons. Cesare caught the faint whiff of Nephilim ancestry on the women, but not the man. Considering they were mere mortals, he was impressed at how well they fought.

Cesare's eyes travelled to the other combatants. The two Nephilim swordsmen, the Lionheart and Ponce de Leon, battled the Ripper and the Impaler. All were equally matched and challenged each other ferociously. But Cesare didn't care about them. All he cared about was the Boleyn whore. But neither she nor that damned husband of hers were anywhere to be seen.
Sudden screeching drew Cesare's attention. He turned to find the imps and serpent beasts had fallen through the floor into spikes. Those that hadn't died by impalement melted away by the foul-smelling acid the female Nephilim mage conjured on their skin, fur, and wings.

Yet another Sanctum prepared for an attack. Someone tipped them off, I'm sure of it. Question is, who?

Cesare didn't have long to ponder on this. He barely perceived a silvery flash from the corner of his eye when a sharp pain suddenly pierced through him as something clawed at his face. Howling, he searched wildly for his attacker. A gyrfalcon soared through the air and landed on the shoulder of the female mage. He grinned, instantly recognising the bloody animal. Finally, his adversary had arrived. His grin widened as he turned and met Anne Boleyn's menacing glare.

"We meet again." Cesare wiped the blood from his cheek. "Are you ready to meet your final death, Your Majesty?"

"Are you?"

The dark-haired Nephilim leader dropped her bow and picked up a sword from the floor to charge at Cesare. Her skill with the sword was not as formidable as the bow, yet still impressive. Every time she had a hand free, Boleyn would take an arrow out of her quiver and try to stab him. But Cesare had a surprise hidden for her.
He drew the dagger the Devil had given him, the one with Lucrezia's golden hair wrapped around the handle. All he needed was a single cut. The poison would do the rest. Cesare waited for Boleyn to lunge at him. He kicked at her knee to make her fall, held the dagger up and... felt the blade turn to dust in his hand, the golden hair dwindling to the ground.
His opponent took that moment of confusion to slice at Cesare's hip. Her blade went all the way through his armour, and he cried out in agony. He flailed with his sword, trying to strike, but the Nephilim whore was already gone.
The pain was almost unbearable, but Cesare willed himself to bite through it and focus. He saw his prey running to her husband, who held up a force shield to protect a group of teens, one of which lay wounded on a mattress. Cesare made for them but was suddenly struck down again and smacked against the ground. He shook his head to clear the daze and looked up at whoever had attacked him so brazenly. It was the young woman he had attempted to kill in France. One of the Boleyn descendants.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," she spoke, knuckles turning white as she gripped her sword tightly. 

Cesare scowled at her, his rage rising at her survival. He tried to get to his feet, but the Frenchwoman was quicker. She hit his wrist with her blade, forcing him to release his sword, and then kicked him hard against his chest. Her blade swung overhead. Steel clanged against steel when de Rais jumped in to save him.
With the woman now distracted by her new foe, Cesare seized his sword and got up. He moved behind her and signalled de Rais. But before he could pierce his weapon through the woman's back, the hilt of the sword was set on fire. Cesare let go with a beastly roar before the flames consumed his hand and looked around him, wild-eyed, searching for the person who had dared to do this.

The whore's mage husband was opening a portal, and the Egyptian continued to drown demons in acid. Neither could have used their magic on him whilst performing those tasks as well. Then Cesare noticed another woman he hadn't seen before. She wasn't a full Nephilim, but clearly possessed the know-how to use magic. Her lips moved as the same thing happened to the Ripper, causing him to drop his knife so the Spaniard could get away.
Cesare ignored the blood trail he left behind. He ignored the blaring pain as he took up his sword once more. His body strained in every move he made, but he would not give in yet. By the time the woman noticed him, it was too late. Cesare's sword struck his mark and went straight through her heart. The life leaving her brown eyes was the last thing he remembered as he succumbed to blood loss and burns.

***

The only clear sound Thomas perceived in the heat of battle was Cosette's heart-wrenching scream. Had she seen what had befallen her twin? Or had something happened to her mother? Thomas dared only a brief glance. Anne kept demons away from him, Olympe, and the children by shooting arrow after arrow at them. The portal faltered again, and he cursed, straining to keep it open. 
He had used a considerable amount of magic to kill the three-eyed gremlin-like critters in the kitchen by creating a supernatural microwave effect (it had not been pretty, and clean-up would take forever), and he was paying the price for that now. But he had to keep trying. If Coraline didn't get medical help soon, she would surely die.
Suddenly, Thomas felt a surge of magic around him, and the portal blew wide open. He turned his head, seeing Hypatia came to his aid after finishing off the demons with her toxic acid. She went through the light to keep it open from the other side. Exhausted, Thomas fell back and took in the destruction in the hall. The sight of his family, bloodied and badly beaten, and of Salomé's lifeless body, made his anger swell.

"Get to the portal, now!" he yelled.

Adeline punched de Rais with such force, he instantly hit the ground with a hard smack. Carlos grabbed her by the waist before she had the chance to get to the Borgia Bastard again, dragging her away. As Olympe quickly gave Remy to his mother, Carlos picked up Coraline to get the girl to safety. Fleur, supporting a limping Esperanza, followed them through the portal. That only left the Nephilim and two teenagers.
Juan and Richard still battled the Ripper and Tepes, and Anne tried desperately to keep the remaining creatures at bay with her arrows. They couldn't help Alejandro and Olympe as they struggled to push Cosette through the portal. She fought them frantically, trying to get to her mother's body. Finally, the girl elbowed Alejandro in the gut and broke free, pushing her great-grandmotheraside.

"Cosette, no!" shouted Olympe.

Juan, engaged against the Ripper, looked up at the sound of his lover's voice. When he saw Cosette running away from the portal, he swept the Ripper's feet out from under him, landing the demon on the ground. He hurried across the room, but De Rais had already reached Cosette and knocked her unconscious. 

"¡No la toques, hijo de puta!"

A Spanish fury clashed against the French rogue. Thomas wanted to help, but he was constantly set upon by demons. Every time he defeated one, two new ones took its place. They worked together, forming an unbeatable hydra.
There was nothing he could do to prevent the Ripper from recovering. He couldn't stop him from stalking Juan from behind and grabbing him by the hair to pull him away from de Rais. The Ripper made Juan turned toward the Nephilim, snapped his head back, and cut through the Spaniard's throat with a quick, decisive slash. 

Time stilled. Then utter chaos ensued as Olympe's bloodcurdling cry cut through Thomas's heart. Something inside of him snapped. A wild fury he never knew he possessed. Every ounce of magic surged out of him as he uttered a guttural scream. The force crashed against every demon and hell beast still standing like a devastating tsunami.
Richard saw his chance and raced to Juan as he dropped to his knees, blood still gushing out of his throat. He hurriedly threw Juan's body over his shoulder and ran with him to Olympe and Alejandro. They jumped through the portal together, leaving Thomas with Anne. She moved to retrieve Cosette, but he snatched her arm when he saw de Rais and Tepes were already getting up.

"Thomas, let go!" yelled Anne.

"No, it's too late! I won't lose you too!"

He pulled her along, ignoring her pleas, and took one last look at the Sanctum as he shut the portal on the place he had called home for so long.

***

The Castel Sant' Angelo was beautifully illuminated against the dark, cloudless sky. Few stars shone that night. There was no moon. The sculpted angels perched on top of the walls were the ever-present guardians of the great fortress. For many, they continued to symbolise hope, comfort, and salvation in an out-of-control world.
But that night, not even the real angels could provide such a thing to those who had taken refuge deep within the Castel. That night, the walls took in the cries and tears of pain and loss.
That night, one of their own had died.

Gabriël and Raphael made their way through the silent crowd of the gathered Nephilim. Their faces struck with grief as they'd all been brutally reminded that their immortality could be cut short by any demon at any time. 
The Archangels halted when they came upon the Resia Nephilim and their family members. Raphael sped towards Hypatia when he caught her working on a teenage girl who lost her leg. A teenage boy stood close by, watching anxiously. The young woman Gabriël recognised as the one who had been attacked by the Borgia Bastard stood near the healers as they treated two other women and a man. She held her little boy in her arms and whispered reassuring words to him, but the poor child was too overwhelmed by what he'd witnessed.
Gabriël's breath caught in his throat. This was his fault. He had taunted Lucifer. If he hadn't said those things about him and Michael... He had brought this on the Nephilim.

"Gabriël."

He turned at the sound of Thomas Wyatt's voice. Anne's husband had dust and blood on his face and clothes, but seemed fine physically. Seeing his dark-circled eyes glazed with tears alarmed Gabriël.

"Thomas, is Anne...?" He couldn't bring himself to finish his question.

"It... It's not her."

Thomas brought Gabriël to the far end of the crypt, where the body of the dead Nephilim had been laid on top of a tomb. Were it not for the bloody gash in his throat, it would have looked like Juan was sleeping. His eyes were closed, and he had a peaceful expression over him.
Richard the Lionheart knelt at his head, praying like any knight and King would for a fallen comrade-in-arms — with his sword drawn and his head leaning against the hilt. Juan's beloved, Olympe, was crying, her head on her husband's chest. Her face and hands were smeared with his blood. Anne stood silently behind her, her head hung in defeat.

"He was trying to save his great-granddaughter from de Rais," said Thomas, his voice thick with sorrow. "The Ripper surprised Juan from behind."

"What about the girl?" asked Gabriël.

"We had to leave Cosette behind. She wanted to get her mother's body. Salomé was killed by Borgia."

"I'll get them. I'll go to the Sanctum right now with another Archangel. Maybe we can still save Cosette."

Thomas pressed his lips together and shook his head. Clearly, they had already lost hope of getting Cosette back alive. But it was the least Gabriël could do for them.
Their heads jerked at the sudden sound of a hand slapping someone's cheek and a sword clanging to the ground. Anne held her cheek, where Olympe's strike had left a bloody print. She stumbled back, eyes wide and staring at the grieving woman, held firmly by Richard.

"Don't you dare touch me! I told you we should've come here sooner or made our families come! I told you I had a feeling something would happen! And now Juan is dead! Salomé is dead! God only knows what those things are doing to Cosette!"

"Olympe, please don't." Thomas stepped towards them.

"BORGIA WANTED ANNE! He wanted her family, not mine! They shouldn't have been there in the first place! Juan would still be alive if it weren't for her!"

The grieving woman's heart-rending voice echoed through the hall. The crypt was eerily silent. Everyone looked at Olympe, who only had eyes for Anne.

"Je ne te pardonnerai jamais, Anne," she hissed. "Jamais!"

Hypatia ran to Olympe and took the Frenchwoman in her arms, guiding her away from the crypt. Richard, always a man of few words, put a comforting hand on Anne's shoulder, then went after them. Thomas walked over to his wife and tried to embrace her, but she hurried away, disappearing into the crowd of gathered Nephilim. He sighed, his hands at his side, and looked down at Juan.

"I'm sorry, amigo. No magic can turn back the clock. I would gladly do it otherwise. Watch over us... wherever you are."

He left, as did the other Nephilim. Gabriël saw their disheartened expressions as they huddled in small groups to seek comfort with each other while leaving the Resia Nephilim to their grief. He heard fragments of the conversation as he returned to Raphael.
Thomas' last words reminded everyone of another terrifying fact; they had all died once before. So what would happen to them if they died now? What happened to angels when they met the final death? Their eyes followed Gabriël, and he saw the silent question reflected in them; what happened to Archangels when they met their fate?
No one dared to ask it because no one dared to believe it was possible. And Gabriël would never admit it had already happened. He thought of Azrael. What had happened to her? Was she just gone? Or was she still near?

***

There it was again. They both heard it this time. Michael and Joan's daughter — whom he called Eve simply because he needed to call her something — were seated under the same tree Michael had first seen the little girl. His memory of the Tree of Life had become the place they met, hence the name he'd picked for her. 
Eve rested her head on Michael's shoulder as he told her the story of how he had first appeared to her mother when they heard that whispering voice again. The girl's grip on Michael's arm tightened as the voice echoed around them.

"Nothing will harm you here," he said comfortingly.

"I'm not worried about me," she said. "I'm worried about you."

He smiled at her words. She never ceased to amaze him. Her strength, her kindness, her concern... He was certain all these qualities were Gabriël's. Granted, Joan had her good side, but he rather expected Eve to inherit Joan's defiance and stubbornness over her more redeeming qualities.
The voice rang through the void once again, louder than before. Michael and Eve rose to their feet and looked for the source. They had begun to hear the female voice shortly after Morpheus manipulated time, but neither could understand what it was trying to say.

"Mi–ael... he–p me."

"I think she needs your help," said Eve. "Do you know who it is?"

"Maybe. I am not sure," said Michael hesitantly.

"She feels familiar. I think I know her too. Or I'm supposed to know her."

Michael wanted to ask her how she could possibly know the person the voice belonged to, but then something caught his eye — a shadowy figure. It appeared for only a second, but he could still make out the shape of a woman.

"Michael, pl–se help m—! I... Azr–l!"

"Azrael?" Eve looked up at him. "Is that it?"

"What?" exclaimed Michael, surprised at the mention of the name. "No, it cannot be."

"Michael, help me!"

But it was. That really was Azrael's voice. Michael called out to her, "Azrael! Where are you?"

"Think of her," said Eve. "You need to think of her."

He didn't question the girl and did as she said. He closed his eyes and tried to recall his last memory of the female Angel of Death. It had been so long since he last saw her, but he still remembered. Dark skin, almost black. Her hair as white as snow. Her golden eyes masked by a hundred tiny scars. 
Michael suddenly felt Eve tugging at his hand. He opened his eyes. There she was — Azrael, the Angel of Death.