He feared none of it had happened. He feared he was still in the Dream Realm, trapped in another vision conjured up by Lucifer. But the Devil drew from memories and current events. And even with his life force slipping further every minute, Michael was certain he had never had his wings torn out.
Blinding, searing pain travelled through the Archangel's body. The pain was good, though. It was proof this was all real. But it also made Michael wish he were dead. He wanted to scream, but he was too exhausted. He saw nothing but shadows about him. All that kept him from giving in and succumbing to the sweet relief of death were the voices.
Michael heard Raphael's voice, agitated yet controlled. Then a woman's, young and strong but nervous. The smell of clean sheets and herbs invaded him as he was laid face down on a bed. So did the tangent, coppery smell of blood. A lot of blood — his blood. It stuck to his body. How much had he lost? Enough to know that, had he been human, he would have already been dead.

"Cate, clear away this blood; I can't see what I'm doing."

Why is Catherine helping Raphael? Where is Isabelle? The Nephilim... She must be with them. God Almighty, please do not let them die, I beg of you.

"What do we do about his wings?" asked Catherine.

"I don't know yet. But if we don't get this bleeding under control, he won't have any use for them, anyway. If I can just — oh, damn it all, I can't get these veins properly clamped! Isabelle, where are you when I need you?"

"Rafe! Where's Mi—what the hell happened?!"

Gabriël... You made it back.

"The Blood Countess used her magic on him," said Raphael.

"Tell me he's going to live, Raphael," urged Gabriël. "Tell me you can fix this!"

"I am trying, Gabriël! But I have never had an angel on my table with their wings ripped out! It's a miracle he's still alive! I don't even know how to — wait, what are you doing? Gabriël, no!"

As soon as Michael felt the cold steel of a blade against the flesh of his torn back, his heart raced wildly, almost bursting out of his chest. The little blood left in his veins was set aflame. Michael's body contracted, and his mind felt ready to explode from the excruciating pain.
Then, all of a sudden, the burning agony changed into an amazing warmth. Comforting. Healing. It enveloped Michael completely, and the Archangel felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. He felt alive. He felt... him.

***

Gabriël drew Michael's sword, pushing Raphael aside and ignoring Catherine's protests. He placed the blade over the wound, and powerful blue flames spread across Michael's body. The Archangel's unconscious state was a blessing. Gabriël had felt the flames of Heaven's Fire not once but twice, and it was the most agonising physical pain he had ever been in. Raphael fought him to take the sword away, but soon, they were both transfixed by the miraculous thing happening before his eyes — Michael's body and wings were healing.
The blood that had been spilt and stuck to Michael's skin slowly trickled into his body. The flesh of his open back stitched together somehow. But his wings, mangled beyond repair, were the most amazing sight of all. A blue glow enveloped them, fading as the ruined feathers fell to the floor, blackened from Heaven's Fire. The ones that grew in their stead were shining ivory, the most beautiful and mesmerising Gabriël had ever seen.

When the flames died out, Michael's body was whole again. Gabriël hesitantly touched him with the tip of his fingers, finding his skin unnaturally cool. He bent over Michael and whispered, "You do not get to die. Not after everything we have done for you, and not before you fix the mess you made, you hear me? We need you to set things right. I... I need you to..."

Gabriël's voice faltered, and he stepped back. He set Michael's sword on a table and leaned over it, hiding his relief from the others. Acting on a hunch that could have had terrible repercussions had it failed was not something he wanted to do again.

"Wha—how did you...? I don't..." Raphael spluttered. "Gabriël, how did you do this?"

Under any other circumstances, Gabriël would've laughed at the sight of Raphael and Catherine's wide-eyed, open-mouthed expressions when turned back around to face them. But considering what they had just witnessed, he could hardly hold their reaction against them.

"Michael's sword is infused with Heaven's Fire," he said. "Since he controls it, the flames within the sword reacted to him."

"But Michael didn't say the words," replied Raphael. "How... How?"

"I don't know. I think it's because they're connected. Like when I am around water, and you around the Tree of Eden and the Eastern winds. We always feel better, stronger even when we're around our element. I... it just made sense for this to work."

"You mean you guessed? Gabriël, how could you possibly take such a risk? Of all the stupid, idiotic, arrogant —"

Raphael's ramblings were cut short when Catherine gripped his arm. He looked down at her, meeting her intense gaze.

"It worked," she said strongly. "That's all that matters. Let's focus on getting Michael through this. Lord knows we'll need him."

Much to Gabriël's surprise, Raphael just sighed and bowed his head in agreement. The physician shot him one more hard look before turning to his patient. Gabriël mouthed a thank you to Catherine. Her expression saddened as their eyes locked.

"They found Joan; she was with Michael," she said.

Gabriël's heart skipped a beat. Joan... Finally! He rushed toward Catherine. 

"Where is she? Is she all right? How's the baby?"

"We don't know. She's not here."

"What?" He drew back. "But you just said —"

"They found her, yes. And Joan stepped through the portal like all the others. But she's the only one who didn't arrive in the Vale."

The floor crumbled beneath his feet. This had to be a joke. They were messing with him. Joan had to be in the Vale. The portal opened there and nowhere else! His head jerked toward Raphael, seeking confirmation. But his friend gloomily shook his head.

"Sh-She didn't... But, then where the hell is she?" demanded Gabriël.

"No one knows," said Raphael. "She's just... gone."

***

After Gabriël's little showdown near Limbo, Lucifer was certain the Archangel's aim was to distract him whilst others entered the Dream Realm to free Joan, or perhaps Michael — though that was less likely since only a few knew where the Lord Protector was. Yet, he wouldn't put it past Gabriël to send another group in to retrieve Margaret.
When he had found she was gone from their chamber, Lucifer dreaded the worst. He called his generals and ordered them to prepare for an immediate attack. If Gabriël was so desperate to hasten the Vale's doom, Lucifer would happily oblige and destroy them all.

As he strapped another dagger to his armour, Lucifer was suddenly overcome with excruciating pain. He fell to the floor, crying in agony as he felt his entire body burn. His blood boiled, and every muscle and tendon contracted in the most awful way imaginable. Was it a spell? Had Gabriël done something during their fight that would incapacitate him? Kill him, even?
Then, as sudden as the pain came, it was gone. Lucifer panted heavily, willing his racing heart to steady. Sweat dripped from his brow. He rolled onto his back, groaning as his body strained with every move. The cold floor eased the ache, even through his armour. He stared at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
He had recognised that burning sensation, that fire coursing through him. He had sensed it once before, a very long time ago. Only now, those flames had surged from his heart. But how? The only person who held full control of that fire was...

No... No, no, NO!

Lucifer pushed himself up from the floor. He grabbed the amulet around his neck and called upon the Blood Countess, but she didn't answer him. He couldn't even sense her presence. Was she dead? If she was... what the hell had happened to Michael?

***

Joan couldn't sleep, despite Margaret and her mother insisting that she do so to keep up her strength. Too many things kept her awake. Too many thoughts rampaged through her weary mind. She wished she knew what had happened to the Nephilim and Michael. Thomas had been in such terrible shape, and Anne... Michael leapt in to protect her from that hag, Bathory, but he had been kept a prisoner for weeks, and both his mind and body needed healing. Even with a weapon, what could he have done against a foe like the Blood Countess?
That thought inevitably brought Joan to Gabriël. He went down to the Circles to keep Lucifer occupied so they could escape. Gabriël, God's Messenger, had raised an army and brought the fight to the Devil's own doorstep. What was he thinking?! He wasn't a warrior! He could defend himself well enough and fight off lower demons, but to go up against Lucifer on his turf?!

Gabriël, please be all right. If you dare die now, I'm going to bring you back from whatever Heaven angels go to when they die, and I'm going to kill you myself! How could you do this? How could you be so stupid? I need you, I —

"Ow! Ow, not again." Joan winced at the stabbing in her lower back and abdomen. 

Pacing around the make-shift maternity ward had helped before, but it clearly didn't anymore. Her mother dashed toward her and helped her sit on the bed. The cold cloth she pressed against Joan's brow felt so nice.

"It always hurts more with the first one," she said. "Your body is going through something it hasn't experienced before."

"The first one?" Joan chuckled despite the pain. "You're expecting more grandchildren, maman?"

She took a deep breath and exhaled, just like Leonora had taught her. Joan closed her eyes, keeping the image of Morpheus' golden-haired maidservant vivid in her mind. She wished she could have saved her. Yet another victim of Lucifer's scheming.

"That's it, Joan," said her mother as she gritted her teeth to bear another stab. "Good girl, keep breathing like that."

"Wh-Where's Marina?" 

"She went to get more herbs near the ridge. She'll be back soon, don't worry."

"Maman," Joan reached for her mother's wrist, "j'ai peur."

"Of course you are, ma fille." Isabelle dropped the wet cloth on the bed and cupped Joan's face. "You are right to be. This will be one of the most painful moments you will ever go through. But you'll forget about it once you have that little baby in your arms, I promise."

"I can't do this alone."

"You are not alone," cooed her mother comfortingly. "I am here, and so is Marina. We will help you."

"Non, maman, I didn't mean now. I meant after. I can't have this baby without Gabriël."

"You must believe you will find your way back to each other. He came to you before, didn't he? At Resia? Have faith, Joan. Je ne t'ai pas appris à abandonner aussi facilement, ma petite prophète."

Joan froze at those words. She hadn't heard her mother say them in so long. Not since she left to fight for the Dauphin. It reminded Joan of something terrible. She was a prophet. And she had seen it. That dream that had not quite been a dream. The nightmare that had seemed all too real. The vision that had felt like a promise for what was certain to come.

"Maman, you need to go back to the Vale."

"What?" Isabelle furrowed her brow.

"Y-You need to go." Joan grew more agitated as she recalled those horrifying images. "Maman, please, you need to leave right now!"

"Joan, calm down! What's got into you?"

"Borgia! H-He's coming! Please, go before he kills you!"

"No one is coming, Joan. No one else is here."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Isabelle." Margaret returned to the maternity room, her herb basket empty. "I had the feeling we were being watched, but I didn't want to alarm you before I knew for certain. I found paw prints circling this area and noticed several pairs of blood-red eyes in the distance. We have to get Joan away before she delivers. I've called Samael a few times, but we can't wait any longer."

"Margaret, we can't just —"

"No, Isabelle, listen to me, please; this place is cursed. I recognised some symbols on the ruins from scrolls in the Scola and tales I've heard from the Archangels. This is the ancient city of Pergamum. Thousands of people once came to be cured of sickness and pain here, but all they did was deliver their souls to the darkness. If a new life is born here, it will not stand a chance."

After hearing that, Joan's mother wasted no time and helped her daughter to her feet. But Joan had barely taken one step when she suddenly felt something warm rush down her thighs. She halted abruptly, her eyes widening as she realised it was already too late.