Gabriël wasted no time in letting everyone in the Vale know Samael had betrayed them. He warned them not to engage the Angel of Death alone. The last thing he wanted was for that bastard to take another angel away — or worse.
Margaret was nowhere to be found. Either Samael took her to the same place Michael was, or he took her to the one who had planned it all. If that were the case, there was little chance of getting Margaret back. Lucifer wouldn't let his wife go a second time. Still, Gabriël refused to give up on her. Nor on Michael and Joan. He asked Metatron to bring him everything the Archives held on the Dream Realm. If there was a way to get in without Morpheus knowing about it, he would find it.

"Raphael, I demand you unhand me at once!"

"You are in no position to demand anything, Uriël! Now get in here!"

Gabriël looked up from the paper-littered table in the war room at the sudden sound of footsteps and arguing voices within the Villa. He hurried into the parlour to find Raphael practically dragging Uriël along by the scruff of his neck.

"Rafe, what are you doing?" he demanded

"I heard him talking to God," said Raphael. "You'll want to hear what he has to say. It seems like he wasn't entirely honest with us before."

"Uriël, what's he talking about?" Gabriël looked at the Seer's blindfolded face.

"It's nothing," Uriël waved dismissively. "Raphael, please let go."

"Tell him everything, Uriël. Right now!" insisted the physician.

"This will only bring sorrow. Why can you not see that?"

"Tell him!"

Uriël sighed. Reluctantly, he spoke, "Child of Light succumbed to darkness, the power of Death he shall hold. By the grace of the Fallen One, the strayed son shall be freed."

Gabriël arched his brow. He looked from Uriël to Raphael, and then again to Uriël.

"Is this...? Are these the words to another rune?"

But the blindfolded Archangel remained silent and turned his head away. Gabriël pondered the words.

Child of Light... the power of Death... Child of Light... That couldn't possibly mean... No, wait, what was it Samael said? God himself saved him from the poison Michael used on his... mother. 

"He's his son," whispered Gabriël.

"What? Whose son?" Raphael tilted his head in confusion.

"Lucifer's son! He's... he is Death! As in Angel of!"

"Wait, you're not saying that... Samael?" Raphael's eyes widened. "No, that's impossible!"

"Is it? Think about it, Rafe. Samael appeared after Lucifer fell, after his marriage to Marina. Then Azrael disappeared, and he took her place as the Angel of Death. The Child of Light, of Heaven's Light, of LightBringer, wielding the power of Death."

Raphael rounded on Uriël, "You knew about this?"

"I was asked not to say anything."

"Asked not to — for God's sake, we are at war, Uriël!"

"I am aware of that, Raphael. There is no need to shout."

"Then why?"

Uriël sighed and sat down on one of the Roman beds. The two other Archangels remained on their feet, waiting for Uriël to speak.

"Samael was supposed to have been the first of a new breed of angels. A Nephilim, as Father had truly intended them to be; hybrids possessing all our abilities and strengths, including immortality, yet with that extraordinary compassion and, for lack of a better term, humanity that only the children of Earth are capable of. It would have made it even more difficult for the darkness to gain more souls, but it was not to be."

He took a deep breath. Clearly, speaking of this weighed heavily on him. Gabriël's heart almost went out to the recluse.

"Michael disrupted all of Father's plans when his jealousy and anger moved him to actagainst Lucifer and his family. Father sent Azrael to retrieve Samael from Purgatory, hoping there was still a chance for at least part of His plan to play out. But the darkness had already taken hold of the boy. I regret to say Father played a double ploy then. He placated Michael's aversion to love by creating those preposterous rules, supposedly so no other angel or Archangel would fall into the darkness in such a way again, but counted on the notion that love would always prevail. Even in death."

 Raphael gave an exasperated groan. Gabriël took him by the shoulder, nudging him toward a chair. As much as he understood Raphael's anger, he couldn't allow it to overtake him. Not when Uriël was giving him the answers he had been looking for.

"This is why you left, isn't it?" he asked. "Not because you needed solitude, but because you couldn't risk someone discovering this."

"It broke me to leave my brothers and sisters," said Uriël, "but I had no choice. No one could ever know that Father's actual intent was for one of us, another Archangel, to father or mother a child. But this new baby had to be a full-blood angel. That is why Raphael was instructed to make those potions for the Archangels when they visited Earth, so no other hybrid was conceived again. Father waited patiently, but the Archangels were less inclined to seek the forbidden fruit within the Vale because they could seek sexual gratification elsewhere. After Azrael disappeared six hundred years ago and Samael took over, Father was forced to... tweak the game."

He raised his head. Even through the blindfold, Gabriël felt Uriël's intense gaze on him.

 "When He saw how you cared for Joan," continued Uriel, "Father knew you were the one, Gabriël. He knew you and Joan would grow towards each other and that your love would result in the conception of not only a new race of angels, but of another LightBringer as well. The glorious future for the simple farm girl from Domrémy was erased, and she was sentenced to die so she could come here. So she could be with you."

Gabriël's breath caught in his throat. He balled his fists, trying desperately to keep them still. He was livid. Clearly, they were nothing but pawns in God's mind-numbing game. A means to an end, with every move carefully thought out, and always a Plan B to ensure the total picture would still happen. Gabriël felt even more resentment and anger towards his maker than before.

"If God planned it all so perfectly, you mind telling me why everything got so screwed up?" he demanded. "Joan is stuck in the Dream Realm alone! Michael is missing! The Horsemen are destroying everything! We are falling apart whilst the darkness only grows stronger through Lucifer and Samael! How the hell could He have allowed this?"

"I understand you are angry, brother. Believe me, I do. I wish things could have gone differently for you and Joan. For all of us. But you need t—"

Uriël's words choked in his throat. His head jerked back, and he rolled onto the ground. Raphael hastened towards him and held on to Uriël's convulsing body. Gabriël meant to do the same, but a sentry came rushing in at that moment with Vlad Tepes at his side.

"Gabriël, you must hurry! The Nephilim are under attack! Borgia is leading a massive force against the Castel!"

"Go, I'll take care of Uriël," said Raphael immediately.

Gabriël nodded and rushed with Tepes to the armoury. As they ran, the ominous sound of the warning bell tolled through the Vale. The warriors of the Lord gathered their arms and prepared to face the demons of the Circles. They had been training for this day for centuries. But recent events gripped their hearts with fear. For if they fell this night...

***

Raphael held Uriël close to him, applying pressure to still the violent shaking. It was all he could do. The vision seemed to go on endlessly, bringing Uriël to the point that he spoke gibberish. Raphael listened closely, hoping to understand. His eyes widened when he realised Uriël spoke Enochian.
It had been so long since Raphael had heard the tongue they'd spoken at the beginning of creation, but he remembered enough to make out what Uriël was saying. The physician took his pencil and notebook from his pocket and wrote everything the Seer said, while still holding him down with his other hand.
The shaking gradually decreased. Despite the severity of the seizure, Uriël didn't appear to have any further trauma. He lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling with rigid breathing. Raphael took a deep breath after checking his vitals, relieved it was finally over, and then read what he wrote on the paper. A chill washed over him.

"Dear Lord... Gabriël, please come back soon."

***

All was quiet. The city of Rome slumbered peacefully. Worldwide reports had been circulating that a strange illness was spiking, killing humans and animals alike, and destroying crops, but the Romans didn't worry about that. So far, it hadn't reached their fair city. Some believed it was because they were home to the Vatican, home to God's representative on Earth. How could such a plague possibly attack them?
Thousands of pilgrims had already arrived to seek the sanctuary. The hotels, hostels, and apartments were full. Some of the most devout travellers even made up camp around the corner from the Vatican. All to be closer to God so they could be protected from whatever threatened them. Little did they know, something worse than a plague had already reached their midst.

Hidden from sight by the many wards and spells around the Castel Sant' Angelo, a fierce and grisly battle raged. The clash of swords, axes, spears and other weapons couldn't drown out the shrieks and screams of those who lay wounded and dying. Blood coloured the ground darkly, gleaming eerily under the light of the full moon.
The Nephilim did their best to stand their ground against the overwhelming force. But for every demon and beast they slayed, another five took its place. With Hypatia's help, Thomas cleared a path, so the wounded could be taken below to the healers. He had seen Olympe there with the children, so he was sure they were safe. Carlos, Fleur and Esperanza met up with Thomas as they aided the Nephilim fighting west of the Castel, and Richard was already amid it all, battling like the Lionheart-king he was. The only one Thomas hadn't seen yet was Adeline. He hoped his daughter wouldn't do anything foolish. She was capable of rushing into things, which was an unfortunate family trait.

"Thomas!" His head snapped to Hypatia as she yelled to him. "The shield is at full strength! Go help the others!"

"Are you sure?"

"Go! I have this!"

With his sword in hand, Thomas rushed into the fight. He muttered a spell, and the blade of his sword burned hot, as if just forged when he drew it from its scabbard. Every demon he struck down immediately caught fire. Thomas tried to ignore the surrounding bodies of the dead Nephilim, but when his eye caught a hell beast feeding off one of his comrades, he swung his weapon with an angry scream. The monster gave a terrifying howl as the blade opened its back and consumed it from within.
Unfortunately, Thomas had been distracted for too long. A sharp pain shot through his shoulder as something cut into his flesh. He dropped his sword and recoiled from whatever had attacked him. When he looked up, he saw the silver flash of a blade coming down at him and jumped aside in the nick of time.

"My, my, look what we have caught in our net, mon ami."

Unbridled rage and hatred filled Thomas's entire being as he looked at the two villains who had caused him and his family such pain and grief. Gilles de Rais — the vile snake who took Cosette from them. And Jack the Ripper — Juan's murderer.

"It would appear this is our lucky night." The Frenchman chuckled.

"Don't count on it." Thomas glared dangerously at them. "It will take more than you two clowns to kill me."

"Clowns? T'as entendu ça? Clowns, he calls us. Well then, we'll be honoured to oblige a farewell performance. Yours, that is."

The Ripper, face hidden and donning his signature black cloak, white gloves and top hat, revealed the knife he held. Blood dripped from the blade. Too much to have only come from Thomas's shoulder. He attacked with a swish of his wrist, going straight for the mage's throat. Thomas dodged the attack but inadvertently put himself between the two demons. 
De Rais's sword whooshed through the air. Having dropped his weapon, Thomas blocked the sword with nothing but his bare arm, hitting it away. The blade left a deep gash, and Thomas grimaced in pain. He didn't have the energy to conjure something from nothing, so he summoned the first thing he saw to defend himself — a broken shield, still clasped in a dead Nephilim's hand.
Both villains struck blow after blow, but all Thomas could do was take cover behind the shield and hope for a miracle. Then, he heard de Rais swearing profoundly. The Frenchman's sword clashed onto the ground.

"Merde! Ce fichu oiseau! Kill it!"

Thomas shot Anne's bird a thankful look as it dived toward the demons. The Ripper waved his arms around wildly, but the gyrfalcon was too fast for him. The diversion provided Thomas with enough time to lunge for his sword. His fingers closed around the hilt, and the blade glowed fiery hot again. He rose to his feet, facing his foes once more. De Rais recovered first, holding his sword in his left hand, just like Thomas.

"No matter." He shot a dark glare at Thomas. "Killing you slowly will be just as fun."

The two swordsmen engaged, trying to plunge their swords into the other's body. Thomas would forever be grateful to Juan for pressuring him to learn how to fight with both hands. De Rais seemed to have picked up the same ability, but he wasn't nearly as skilled. He was, however, good at cheating. In a quick move,
The Frenchman bent to the ground and scooped blood from a puddle, throwing it into Thomas' eyes. He staggered back, blinded by his opponent's cowardly stunt. Talons dug into his leg, making him cry out. Thomas tried to get away and reach for his sword, but the hell beast that attacked him was not alone. An entire pack of sharp-fanged monsters climbed on top of him within seconds. De Rais laughed vilely.

"Your death will be quick, Monsieur Wyatt. If only others were as fortunate. Like that darling girl I found in the Sanctum. Oh, she was a fighter. I like them that way. It's no fun when they give in too soon. I doubt I will ever forget what she felt like. The memory of her screams will sustain and satisfy me for years to come."

Despite the pain, despite the hell beasts clawing and biting at him, despite his life ebbing from him as poison coursed through his body, Thomas' fury gave him the strength to perform one last piece of magic. He raised his hand, and his sword flew from where it lay, piercing straight through Gilles de Rais' genitals. The laughter died, and the Frenchman dropped to his knees with a choked gasp. The last thing Thomas saw was a tall, dark figure appearing over de Rais before his head rolled onto the bloodstained stones of the Castel Sant' Angelo.

***

They were still atop the highest tower. Anne shot every arrow she had, but the damned Borgia Bastard miraculously avoided them all. She nocked her last two arrows and released them simultaneously. Borgia deflected one, but he howled in pain as the other bore into his shoulder. He pulled the arrow out with a loud grunt and eyed his opponent with a venomous glare. 
With no more arrows to shoot, Anne threw her bow aside and drew her dagger. A sword would have been preferable when facing a warrior like Borgia, but it was better than nothing. He was a wounded beast — the most dangerous to deal with.

"I swear to you, woman," he spat, "I will have your heart!"

Borgia raised his sword overhead and charged. Anne quickly ducked aside and grabbed his wrist as the blade came down on her. She whirled around and cut his hand with her dagger. The sword dropped from Borgia's hand. Anne didn't hesitate and kicked the weapon away. Unfortunately, her opponent recovered quickly. He grabbed Anne by her hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to let go of his wrist.
Anne attempted to drive her dagger through Borgia's eye, but he moved his head away, and she only nicked the corner of his lid. Borgia snatched the sharp double-edged blade away, unfazed as it cut through his flesh. He threw it on the ground as he pulled her arm behind her, nearly dislocating her shoulder. Anne gritted her teeth against the pain. She felt his hot breath as he panted at her neck.

"The Boleyn whore finally at my mercy," he hissed. "What to do with you now, hm? Chop that pretty head off that slender neck again? No, that's too quick a death for you. How about I take you with me to the Circles? We both know that is where you truly belong. They'll be lining up to have a piece of you, Your Majesty. But I will ravish you first. If he survives the night, I'll let your husband watch. Give him a show he'll never forget."

Borgia swung Anne round, releasing her arm, then punched her in the stomach. Anne gasped as the air was sucked out of her. Her knees buckled. She fell on the cold stones of the tower. As she tried to get up, Borgia kicked her onto her back and put his foot on her throat. He pressed down, not to suffocate his victim, but to force her to lose consciousness. 
All of a sudden, the weight on Anne's throat was lifted, and she could breathe again. She coughed and blinked, trying to clear her vision to see who or what had saved her. She glimpsed the wings of her gyrfalcon and heard its screeching call, but it wasn't the bird who had attacked the Borgia Bastard this time.
Adeline rolled on the ground with the demon, dragging him away from her mother. When they came to a halt, she jumped up and drew her sword, standing between her mother and her enemy.

"Have you come for another beating?" Borgia chuckled with amusement as he faced her.

Adeline lunged forward, aiming right for the Bastard's heart, but he parried her attack with his sword, having picked it up during their tumble. The two started a heated fight, the clanging of their swords joining the sounds of battle below.
Anne tried to get back up, but her body ached all over. With great effort, she crawled towards her bow, seeing that the arrow Borgia pulled out of his shoulder was nearby. One shot... All she needed was one shot.
Her daughter bravely fought their foe. Borgia was a seasoned warrior, yet he had difficulty keeping up with Adeline. She hadn't forgotten the years of training during her childhood, and her desire for revenge kept her going. Adeline sliced at Borgia a few times, albeit with small superficial scrapes, in places where his armour didn't protect him. That she could do it angered the demon. Hatred flared in his eyes.

The Nephilim leader got up on one knee, nocked her arrow with trembling hands and pulled the string taut as her body screamed in agonising pain. Just then, Adeline cried out, and Anne saw her daughter fall to the ground, holding a hand against her side. Borgia had wounded her, slashing through the padded tunic.
Anne stopped shaking. She aimed her bow steadily in hand. She thought of everyone she had lost because of this man. Edward... Lucille... Salomé... Cosette... Juan...
The Bastard was next.

***

He had her. The little bitch had charged at him, believing she could win over him, Cesare Borgia. But he had her now. He would wipe every member of that accursed family off the face of the Earth, starting with this French cunt. And having her whore of a mother as a witness made it even sweeter. Cesare stood over his prey, grinning from ear to ear.

"You fought well," he praised her. "I will show mercy and grant you a quick death. You and that little brat of yours."

He kicked her in the head, and the woman fell back against the stones. He enjoyed this immensely. At last, nothing could stop him now.

"BORGIA!"

At the sound of the Boleyn woman's voice, Cesare casually looked up. He expected her to make a futile attempt to save her daughter. But what he saw was a warrior Queen, aiming her bow right at him.