Joan groaned as the baby gave another hard kick. It was the fifth time in just minutes. She desperately prayed it wasn't a sign of labour. Morpheus' little manipulation with time had done exactly what the Devil had wanted. Joan couldn't possibly grow any bigger than she already was. But she couldn't give birth yet. 

"There has to be something I can do." Joan gritted her teeth as she looked up at Leonora. "A herb or potion that'll postpone the birth a while longer."

"There's nothing. When the baby is ready, it's ready. You can't stop this."

"But I have to! I can't leave Michael here! I need more ti—ah!"

Joan doubled over in pain. She leaned against the bedpost for support, cradling her belly. Leonora made her sit down.

"Focus on your breathing, like I taught you. Calmly now, in and out. That's it." She turned to Ragazzino, who had been watching silently, crouched near the bed. "Go fetch Morpheus."

But the boy stayed in place, his eyes fixated on Joan.

"Didn't you hear me? Stupido ragazzo, non sederti lì! Vai a prender Morpheo!"

Just as Leonora prepared to smack Ragazzino, the door swung open. The Lord of Dreams stormed in, and with him... Michael! 

"Joan! Are you all right?"

Joan stared as the Archangel pushed past Morpheus, rushing to her side. His clothes were dirty and ragged. He was almost unrecognisable and appeared nothing like the Lord Protector she knew him to be.

"Mi-Michael? H-How are you —?"

"Morpheus set me free. Sit still."

He put his hand over Joan's belly. A warm sensation coursed through her body. Her breathing steadied, as did her heartbeat. The baby gave another kick, but not nearly as hard.

"Do not worry," said Michael. "All is well. Eve was overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of so many angels dying at once. She feared the worst had happened when she could no longer sense me."

"Eve?"

Michael met Joan's questioning look and hesitated in his reply. "Forgive me, I did not mean... I-I had to call her something. And she liked it, else I would not —"

Joan's sudden embrace silenced Michael. He briefly stiffened at her touch, but then he slowly wrapped his arms around her.

"I forgive you," she whispered.

She heard him gasp, and his grip tightened. They clung to each other, both seeking solace and absolution for all that had occurred between them.

"I will take you home," Michal spoke then, gently nudging Joan away but still holding her by her shoulders. "To Gabriël. To the Vale. Raphael and Isabelle can deliver your baby, and you will both be safe from Lucifer. I promise."

"Wait; you said angels were dying?" she asked. "How? Where?"

"Gabriël is leading an assault on the Circles."

"He's what?"

"Joan, trust him. He would not do this without reason."

She shook her head and looked over Michael's shoulder. Morpheus had been silent during their reunion, but was clearly on edge. He fidgeted with his robe, and his eyes kept flicking to the balcony as if he expected something to burst in any moment. He froze when Joan captured his gaze.

"You have to let us go," she said. "You released Michael from his prison; obviously, you realise he's your best hope. Let us go, and he can stop this. He can face Lucifer and end this once and for all. We will all be safe."

Morpheus scoffed. "Hmph, only if the Lord Protector beats Lucifer. If not, the Devil will have my head. Let's say you do defeat Lucifer; what assurance do I have that you will not come after me next for keeping you here?"

"My fight is not with you, Kyrios," said Michael. "You have my word; I will not return."

Morpheus narrowed his eyes at both of them and gave an exasperated sigh. "To hell with it."

He grabbed Leonora's arm, where the poppy mark was branded into her flesh. She screamed in pain, and Joan moved to help her, but Michael held her back. When Morpheus removed his hand, only smooth skin showed where the brand had been. Leonora stared at her arm, then up at Morpheus as he beckoned Ragazzino to him. The boy's yelp cut through Joan as Morpheus repeated the process. As soon as Morpheus let him go, she pulled Ragazzino close to comfort him like a mother. She glanced up when she heard Michael hiss and saw him step away from the Lord of Dreams, rubbing his arm.

"Now listen carefully," said Morpheus. "A group of Nephilim entered the Dream Realm through the Lethe River a few minutes ago. I don't know how they did it, but they kept their memories intact. I will lead you to them. And take these two with you while you're at it. Lucifer brought them to me ages ago, so they'll undoubtedly be valuable to him. I, for one, am done babysitting while getting nothing in return."

"Wait, what?" Joan looked back at Leonora and Ragazzino. "Did Lucifer bring y—?"

A loud explosion outside cut Joan's words short. The entire palace shook on its foundations. Morpheus hastened to the balcony and cursed loudly, "Dammit, we're too late! The witch has them."

"Not yet, she doesn't." 

Joan drew the baslard strapped at her leg and passed it on to Michael. Their eyes met.

"Stay behind me," he said.

She nodded and followed the Archangel out of the room. Leonora and Ragazzino ran after them. Only Morpheus stayed behind. Joan wondered if this was because he believed they couldn't win against the Blood Countess or if he was experiencing the most basic human emotion — fear. Either way, the Lord of Dreams would not help them out of this one. If they were to escape, they would have to do it themselves.

***

The once beautiful, albeit melancholy, garden surrounding Morpheus's palace was blown apart. Statues were broken and scattered about, the trees and bushes were left smouldering, and only a gaping crater remained where the hand-carved fountain had been. Lucifer's witch had known the moment the Nephilim entered the Dream Realm and had been waiting for them, ready to spring her trap.
Bathory released her hellish magic into the garden. Bloodthirsty animals appeared out of nowhere, separating the Nephilim mages from the others to engage them herself. It should have been easy; five against one — how wrong they were.

Anne shot every arrow she had to take out the snakes on the ground and the screech owls flying overhead, but the accursed beasts just kept coming. She stood back to back with Tepes and Richard, keeping the animals away as best they could.
An explosion lit up the dark world. Anne watched as Thomas and Hypatia were blown back like rag dolls, their bodies slamming down with an awful sound. She feared the worst and tried to get to them, but Bathory's creatures blocked her path. The vile witch laughed in the most unholy manner as she revelled in the chaos she created for the Nephilim. She flicked her wrist, and a flame appeared before her. It gradually grew into an enormous ball of fire, which she threw it at Thomas and Hypatia.

"THOMAS, NO!" screamed Anne in terror.

Just before the fire hit, it crystallised and shattered into a million pieces. Thomas had got up in time to save himself and Hypatia from certain death. But his action came at a cost. Half of his right arm had been inside the ball of fire before he amassed enough power to turn it to ice. His hand was a mess of searing flesh, blackening quickly. He lost consciousness and fell back against Hypatia.

Bathory laughed again. "And here I was, expecting a challenge! Is this all the forces of Heaven have to offer? Puny insipid fools playing with little toys and half-baked charms? How adorably diluted you all are, thinking you can defeat me like this."

Fuelled by blind rage, Anne leapt over the long, winding bodies of the snakes piling up at her feet, narrowly dodging the snapping mouths of the ones yet alive. Her short-sword cut through the air, taking out another screech owl as it swooped down at her. Tepes and Richard yelled at her to stop, but her fury made her deaf, blind and numb to all around her.
Bathory summoned another flame in her hand, preparing to attack Anne, when suddenly, a dagger flew out of nowhere and pierced her hand. The flame burned out, and the witch screamed, gripping her wrist.

Taking full advantage of the distraction, Anne sprinted those last few feet, throwing Hypatia's salt and vervain mixture over her sword. With a satisfying swing, she slashed the blade across Bathory's face. The witch shrieked as her skin blistered and dropped to the ground, writhing in pain. The loss of concentration broke her magic, and the snakes and screech owls disappeared. Richard and Tepes hurried over to assist Hypatia and Thomas.
Only then did Anne take a moment to see who threw the dagger, which had saved them all. She smiled when her dark eyes found Michael descending from the palace steps, running into the garden.

"Lady Anne, are you all right?" he asked as he halted before her.

"Yes, thank you," she said, grateful for his swift action.

"What are you doing in the Dream Realm?"

"Quick version, Gabriël sent us to rescue you. He's distracting Lucifer, so we must go before the Devil figures out what's happening. We'll tell you everything later."

"Yes, of course. We should leave at once."

"Michael, wait. Gabriël didn't just send us for you. Is Joan...?"

The Archangel stepped aside. Anne gasped as she recognised Joan, now heavily pregnant, walking between a blond-haired woman and a boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen.

"Joan! H-How — what the hell happened?" she exclaimed in consternation.

"Do you really need me to tell you about the birds, the bees, and the ancient time machine, or can we just get out of this damned place first?" reacted Joan, wincing.

Anne turned to see how the others were doing. Richard held her husband up, his good arm swung over the Lionheart's shoulders. Hypatia placed a protective charm around the wounds, but from the looks of it, Thomas would never use his right arm again.

"Hypatia, can you make the portal on your own?" asked Anne.

The Egyptian mage nodded and took out the amethyst crystals they had gathered before travelling to Spain. According to Rasputin's notes, a portal created in a circle of amethyst provided an escape from the Dream Realm, regardless of whether it was Morpheus's will. Anne hoped the man had been right.
Hypatia scattered the crystals around and began the incantation. A flickering light appeared in the middle of the circle, growing bigger with every word Hypatia uttered. It was working. They'd be able to leave for the Vale. Thomas would be healed, Joan would deliver her baby safely, and Michael would once more be Lord Protector and finish the Devil off once and for all. Unfortunately, they had forgotten about one thing.

A cry of distress had Anne reeling around. The woman who helped Joan was being swallowed by the ground while the Blood Countess glared at them with eyes wild with frenzy. She stretched toward the boy with her injured hand, still impaled with the dagger.
Anne's maternal instincts got the better of her then. She grabbed hold of the boy's arm, pulling him behind her toward Tepes and taking the full brunt of Bathory's magic. Her breath choked, and her heart jumped erratically. She hacked and coughed. Warmth of blood trickle down her chin. It burned Anne's skin. A fierce heat spread through her as if her blood was boiling inside her. Her knees buckled, and she tumbled down, her body contracting and convulsing violently.

"Did you think I would let you stroll out of here? Did you think you defeated me? Me?" Bathory's enraged voice echoed through the garden. "I will bathe in your blood and devour your hearts! My children will ravish your bodies until nothing is left!"

The last thing Anne saw was a pair of ivory wings sweeping over her, protecting her with the comforting blanket of divine grace, something she had only felt once before — on the day of her death, May 19, 1536.

***

It took Hypatia only a few seconds to open the portal out of the Dream Realm. Her husband hurriedly took Thomas through. Michael pushed Joan forward, determined to ensure her safety.

"Joan, go through with the boy," he ordered.

"Michael, you can't face her alone!" exclaimed Joan

"And you cannot face her, period! Get out of here and get to Gabriël!"

"No!"

"Joan, listen to me." Michael grabbed hold of her shoulders. "My life is meaningless compared to yours and your child. If not for me, history would not have passed this way. I cannot change what has already happened, but I can ensure the future. I can ensure your daughter's future as the Angel of Death. If my life is the price, then so be it."

Joan opened her mouth to object again, but Michael silenced her by pressing his lips firmly on hers. She froze at the kiss, as did Michael. Not because he suddenly realised what he was doing, for he knew it well, but because of what he sensed.

So, it's you.

He slowly drew back and whispered so Joan alone could hear, "You have my blessing, Joan of Arc. Now go to where you are meant to be."

Michael did not linger on Joan's wide-eyed expression. He spun around and ran, groaning as his wings grew. It had been so long since he last spread them, and it would be some time before he could use them to their full potential again.
Still, Michael amassed enough force to produce one strong beat, sending a gust of wind toward Bathory. The witch staggered back, losing control over her prey for a few seconds, but it was enough. Michael came down on one knee, shielding Anne and himself with his wings. He dared to glance up and saw Joan stepping through the portal with the boy.

Almighty Father, deliver her, he prayed. Watch over their daughter if I cannot. Please, save them all.

Michael grunted when Bathory's magic crashed against his wings. He couldn't hold her off for too long. He looked for a weapon, but Anne's short-sword lay just out of reach, and he didn't dare move.
Suddenly, Michael saw something whooshing by him and heard a ghastly wail. He lowered a wing to see what had happened. Bathory swayed on her feet, an arrow pierced deeply in her side. Another arrow flew past and buried itself mere inches from the other, making the witch cry out again. Michael turned and saw Vlad Tepes, his spy in the Circles, with a bow in one hand and three arrows in the others. At his feet lay an empty pouch of what appeared to be salt and vervain.
A third arrow pierced Bathory's shoulder, and she fell back. Michael took his chance and quickly picked Anne up from the ground. He ran toward the others.

"Go on with her," he told Tepes as he handed her over.

The Fallen Angel nodded and hastened through the portal with Anne. Michael glanced back to where Joan's friend had disappeared into the earth. There was nothing he could do for her. Just as he and Hypatia were about to step into the light of the portal, Michael felt the cold steel of chains wrapping tightly around his wings and pulling hard in opposite directions. He screamed as his back ripped open and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. 

"You don't get to leave, Michael!" yelled Bathory. "Death's hand is waiting for you, and he will have you, even if I have to take you to him in pieces!"

Warm blood gushed out, drenching his body. Never in his life had Michael been in so much pain. The darkness beckoned him, and he knew he should fight, but he couldn't. He was paralysed, unable to even cry. All he could do was think about how he would never see Gabriël or little Eve again. But at least they would be together. Joan and Gabriël would have their family and lead the Vale. And he would watch over them from the great unknown. Always...
Suddenly, the chains holding Michael down and tearing at him evaporated. His wings hung at his sides, two lifeless limbs too badly damaged to be used again. Feathers stood awry, sticking together with blood and dirt.

"Well, don't just stand there, woman, get him the blazes out of here!"

Morpheus' voice penetrated the haze of numbing agony and half-consciousness. Michael looked behind him, and his eyes found the Lord of Dreams standing over Bathory. Vines shot out of the ground, entrapping the witch in a tangle of luscious green tendrils and poppies.
Hypatia hurried to Michael and helped him up. He stumbled toward the portal, his weight falling on the Nephilim mage. They stepped through, and Michael rocketed through space for what seemed like an eternity before landing hard in a world of mist and twilight sun. His vision blurred, and his breath choked. Panicked voices and hurried footsteps echoed around him as he slowly succumbed to his wounds.

"Dear God, his wings! What's happened to him?"

"Get him to the Hospitium right away! Raphael is already treating the others!"

"Hypatia! Where's Joan?"

"What do you mean? She stepped through before us with the boy! She should be here!"

"The boy came alone!"

Joan... Eve... God, no...