The door creaked open, and a slender female figure gracefully crossed the threshold. Joan gasped when she recognised the red locks and youthful face. It couldn't possibly be...

"Céleste?"

The name fell from Joan's lips as she found herself in the presence of the teenage prostitute who had been one of the many followers of her army, all grown-up now.

"Not quite." The woman smirked villainously. "Though you must admit, I couldn't have picked a better name to attract you. I mean, a girl with such a holy name; how could you possibly resist?"

"Wh-What?" Joan stared at her in confusion.

"Hm, yes, you were so eager to 'save me from my plight'. It really was quite laughable. Seeing you burn made the humiliation of posing as a weak mortal worth it."

"I-I don't understand, who —?"

"Perhaps you prefer I speak in a voice you will recognise?"

Joan's mouth hung slack when she heard the voice of the Blood Countess. Then she noticed the broken pendant around her neck giving off a faint reddish glow.

"N-No." She groaned in pain and shock. "Y-you can't be. Bathory wasn't even born when I died."

"You still don't get it, do you? I'm not the real Erzsebet Bathory. That crone was cast into oblivion the minute she died. No, I am much older than the Countess. Much older than sweet Céleste. Much older than most of your friends. I am the first. The one created with man, but ignored by history. I... am Lilith."

Joan's heart clenched in terror. Lilith — Adam's first wife and the first being to be consumed by darkness. The mother of the beasts of Hell and self-proclaimed Queen of the Circles. If there had ever been someone even the Archangels feared, it was her.
Lilith stepped forward. Isabelle brought her knife up, but Lilith ignored the brave woman, keeping her ruby eyes fixed on Joan's face.

"You have no idea how many years I've dreamt of this moment, Joan. It should never have taken this long, but you just had to play hard to get. You had to be the stubborn shrew and make us all wait endlessly for what should have happened the moment you got into the Vale! I spent weeks teaching you how to screw that deplorable excuse for an angel, and it still took you six hundred years to go through with it! We almost started believing God had made a mistake in choosing the two of you to create his new ultimate super-angel." Lilith pretended to gasp then, feigning consternation. "Oh, but that's right! You don't know about that yet, do you?"

"Kn-Know what?" Joan bit her lip to hold back a scream as she felt another contraction.

"Dear, dear Joan... You were never supposed to die on that pyre. You were meant to save France from England and bring about a new age, living a long, rich life at the side of the Dauphin as his advisor. But when God realised His beloved Messenger had fallen in love with you, His representative in the Mortal Realm, He decided that you two were the perfect test couple for His little experiment. So with a snap of His fingers, He took that glorious future away from you and put you on the path of death. All so you could be where you are now, pregnant and about to lose everything all over again."

"Do not believe a word she says, Joan," said Isabelle.

"What would I possibly gain from lying about this?" Lilith threw Joan's mother a dirty look. "Come, Joan, you know it's the truth. You showed your plans to me that day, remember? You knew the territory around Compiègne inside and out. Then, all of a sudden, you found yourself in between two forces, driven to surrender. What was it they said? God forsook you because you failed in your mission to Him? You never failed Him. God didn't abandon you. He just changed his mind about you because you weren't of any use to Him alive."

Joan's stifled sob burst into a cry as another contraction hit her. She felt the baby moving down and willed herself not to push. Lilith pulled a mocking face of sympathy and shook her head.

"Ow, that looks painful. Let's put you out of your misery, shall we?"

Something flashed in Lilith's hand, and from between her eyelashes, Joan recognised her baslard — the one Michael threw at Bathory in the Dream Realm. Isabelle put herself in Lilith's path to keep her away from her daughter. The demon witch gave an exasperated sigh. A flick of her hand was all Joan saw before her mother gasped and fell to her knees.

"Maman, no!"

Isabelle slowly turned her head. Her skin grew sickly pale, and her eyes hollow as the life drained out of her. She smiled at Joan, who stared back in horror.

"Y-Your fight... i-is not yet... over, Joan. C-Crois... en toi. I... do..."

Her body collapsed into dust, carrying the broken whisper of those last words. Where Isabelle Romée had so valiantly stood in defence of her daughter lay nothing but a knife and a skeleton hand. 
Joan cried in pain and terror, watching her mother's murderer drawing nearer, her own weapon to be used against her now. Lilith pushed Joan firmly down onto the bed with one hand. She struggled to escape but was too exhausted from labour. Steel flashed through the air. Time stopped. A stab. A quick, decisive cut. Warm blood gushed out, drenching her body and the bed she lay on. The sound of a baby's first cries as she was pulled from the safety of her mother's womb resonated through the hovel.
A haze fell over Joan's eyes. She shook her head wildly to remain awake. Lilith swaddled her baby girl. Joan reached out with a trembling hand, but Lilith sneered at her, cackling triumphantly, before she turned and took the baby with her.

"N-No... No, my baby! Please, no!"

Joan tumbled from the bed. She dragged herself across the floor, leaving a bloodied trail behind her. She yelped as her wound opened more. Her lower body went numb; her legs were useless. But Joan wouldn't give up. She couldn't let this witch take her baby.
Vibrant ivory wings were the first thing she saw when she finally reached the door. Too far away, but she would recognise them anywhere. 

"G-Gabriël..."

Then, Joan saw the other wings — pitch black, like a raven's. She saw the man to whom they belonged. And she recognised what she should have seen when she first met him at Pergamum.
He was the one who had stood with Céleste that day in Rouen. The one who had watched from the shadows of her cell, the face that had haunted her in her last hours and in her nightmares ever since. It had always been him.

***

Gabriël stood face to face with Samael. The smirk on that hideous face fuelled his anger.

"What did you do with Joan?"

The Angel of Death ignored him and cocked his head to peer into the distance.

"Oh, and I see my father's old flame is here too," he jeered. "Those new wings look nice. I would hate for anything to happen to them. Maybe if I carve them out carefully —"

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH JOAN?"

Samael gave an exasperated sigh. "It's always the same with you, isn't it? Always 'what did you do with Joan?' or 'what did you do with Michael?' or whoever else you're so desperately trying to save. I did nothing to Michael; that was Lucifer. Those two really are the definition of a toxic relationship. Speaking of which, you'll notice that I am out here with you. So how can I possibly be doing anything to Joan?"

Gabriël's eyes flashed toward the hovel.

"Go on," dared Samael. "See if you can make it in time."

The Archangel raced away, needing only one strong beat from his wings to create enough momentum. But it was no use. Samael caught up with Gabriël in less than a second and collided against him, knocking him down to the dirt.
In his fall, Gabriël grabbed hold of Samael's wing and pulled hard. The Angel of Death was caught off guard and landed flat on his back. He meant to stand, but Gabriël was faster. He jumped on Samael to keep him down. Gabriël took Samael's head with both hands and smacked him onto the ground. He drew back a hand, his fingers balling into a fist and...
Death's skeleton hand whooshed in front of Gabriël as he withdrew. He had seen the bones from the corner of his eye and pushed away from Samael. As if pulled by strings, the skeleton hand flew back, going once more for Gabriël's head. He folded his wings and somersaulted backwards. Once he was back on his feet, Gabriël stood ready to face his opponent. But when he saw the stunningly beautiful young woman from his vision, he froze in place. His breath caught, and his eyes widened in dismay when he saw a newborn baby bundled up in her blood-stained hands — his baby!

"You must be Gabriël." The woman gave him an amused look. "I'm Lilith."

Every fibre of Gabriël's being went on high alert upon hearing the name. He had never met Eve's predecessor, but he heard the stories from Michael and Lucifer back in the day. Lilith was rebellious from the first moment she'd been created. Whether that had been God's intent remained unanswered, though the consensus was that Lilith had been a fluke and that Eve was Adam's one and only wife. After Lucifer put Lilith to the test in Eden, she was cast out and eventually gave herself to the darkness. If she was involved, this scheme might not even have been Samael's at all. 
His little girl stirred in Lilith's arms, and Gabriël moved toward her, but he stopped when Lilith flicked her wrist and Death's hand hovered over the baby.

"Na-ah," she warned. "Let's not do anything rash now. We wouldn't want anything to happen to this darling angel, would we?"

The bones dangled right over his daughter's face.

"Don't," Gabriël implored. "Please, don't. Just... hand her over to me. I won't come after you or Samael; you have my word. This doesn't need to escalate. Give me my daughter, and we end all of this now."

"Oh, I do love when men beg." Lilith smirked. "And normally, I would happily oblige to such a heartfelt supplication. But unfortunately, I have need of your daughter — dead or alive, it doesn't really matter to me."

"Why?" asked Gabriël, fearful of the answer. "What could you possibly need a baby for?"

"Not just a baby, Gabriël. Your baby. My goodness, you really have no idea what you and your slut have created, do you? What God intends for her, the powers he has in store?"

Samael stood up with a grunt and patted the dirt off his grey suit. The Angel of Death threw Gabriël a menacing glare before directing his attention to his accomplice.

"We best be going, Lilith. We're wasting too much of Gabriël's time. I'm sure he'll want to say goodbye to sweet Joan before she dies."

Gabriël's head jerked toward the hovel. His heart stopped when he saw Joan lying across the threshold, face down. He wanted to run to her, but he couldn't just leave his child with these monsters. Joan would never forgive him.
A portal appeared between Samael and Lilith. Determined to save his daughter first, Gabriël moved toward the pair again, but Samael's smirk halted him in his tracks.

"Tick-tock, Gabriël. Tick... tock."

The words were enough for Gabriël's resolve to falter, and the portal closed behind Samael and Lilith, taking his baby with them. With one of his choices stripped from him, Gabriël's mind and heart were no longer in turmoil, and he rushed to Joan. He dropped to her side. His eyes followed the blood trail all the way inside the hovel. It was utter carnage; the wall was splattered, and the bedsheets were soaked in blood. There was a pile of dust on the floor amidst a woman's clothing and a knife. 
Gabriël took Joan into his arms and turned her over. He gasped in dismay at the gaping wound in her belly. It had all come true. Every dreadful detail from the vision God had sent him. Margaret attacked by Hellhounds, Isabelle turned to dust, Joan cut open like an animal... And their baby, gone.

"Joan, I'm here," Gabriël spoke softly, carefully stroking Joan's hair from her face. "It's Gabriël. I'm here."

"G-Gabriël..." Her eyelids fluttered.

"Yes. Yes, I'm here. You'll be fine, Joan. I'll take you to the Vale, and Raphael will heal you. Everything will be all right, you'll see."

"T-The... b... baby..."

"We'll get her back."

"P-Promise me."

"I promise. I won't stop until she's home. Joan, please, hold on a little longer. Please."

Joan caressed his cheek with the tip of her fingers. Gabriël stiffened at their icy touch.

"Her name..."

His lover's voice was barely audibly. Gabriël leaned in so he could hear. He smiled when he heard his daughter's name, tears filling his eyes. Blood trickled down from the corner of Joan's mouth as she coughed. Gabriël held her close. She gazed up into his eyes.

"Y-Your... eyes. Sh-She has y... your eyes... G-Gabriël, je... je t'aime."

"Joan? No, Joan, please, don't leave me! Joan!"

***

The Hellhound jumped at Lucifer, growling wildly, sanguinous eyes burning in anticipation of devouring its prey. Lucifer rolled away and found the familiar cold steel of his sword near his hand. He blindly grabbed the blade, not caring that the sharp edge cut him as he swung it with all his might. The hilt buried itself into the Hellhound's skull and the beast dropped dead at his feet.
Wiping the blood off his face, Lucifer pulled his sword out of the Hellhound and discerned the deafening silence. He searched furiously for Margaret. When he saw the Hellhound who had dragged her off lying in a pool of blood, he feared the worst. Lucifer ran toward it but halted when he realised the Hellhound lay in its own blood. Its head had been severed with one clean cut, the rugged fur singed by fire. Only one weapon could have done that. But then... was he here?

"Lucifer!"

Lucifer spun around at Margaret's voice. He dropped his sword when she ran into his arms. He held her tightly and whispered without thinking, "Thank God you're safe."

Then he spotted Michael over Margaret's head. He stared at the Archangel, dressed in simple human clothes for once, clasping his sword in hand. Lucifer's heart skipped a beat at the sight of his former lover. This man's mind had been tortured, and his body must have suffered greatly during his escape from the Dream Realm. Yet here he stood like the warrior Lucifer knew him to be — a phoenix risen from the ashes. He promptly pulled Margaret to his side, protectively shielding her with one arm. 

"I am not here for you, Lucifer." Michael met his wary gaze with a certain defiance and bravado Lucifer had never seen in him before. "We can have our fight later if you truly wish it. First, tell me where your son is."

"So you can kill him again? I don't think so, Michael."

"You mean to tell me your Hellhounds just turned on you for no reason? They have a new master, and you know it."

Lucifer glanced back at the Hellhound nearest to them. Messalina wasn't one of the beasts that attacked him and Margaret. He hoped nothing had happened to her. If she was still in the Circles, there was a chance he could regain control. 

"Samael is not your son anymore, despite what you may want to believe," Michael said as he approached. "But that does not mean he cannot become your son again. As long as it is not too late."

Lucifer looked down when Michael raised his sword a little. He wasn't seriously suggesting...?

"No, you'll destroy him!" exclaimed Lucifer.

"Or I will save him," countered Michael. 

Margaret put her hand on Lucifer's arm. He tore his eyes away from Michael to look at his wife.

"Let him try," she said.

"Marina —"

"Lucifer, I don't like putting my faith in Michael any more than you. But we must let him try if there is even the slightest chance he can save our boy."

"It's not worth the risk."

"It's worth every risk! Please, Lucifer."

The last thing Lucifer wanted was to put his son's life in the hands of the man he had kept prisoner for tearing his family apart. But what else was he to do? The darkness within could only be vanquished through Heaven's Fire, and he didn't possess the power to summon enough of it on his own. Not when his opponent was someone as strong as Samael or Lilith.

"You'll need help," said Lucifer, relenting to Margaret's plea.

"Not from you," said Michael.

"Yes, from me. Michael, you don't understand. Samael is working with —"

A heart-rending cry silenced him. They all turned, and Devil and Archangel held up their swords. But there was no enemy left to face. All they saw was Gabriël holding Joan of Arc's bloodied and lifeless body.

***

Michael's feet carried him to the star-crossed lovers. A lump formed in his throat when he looked at the Fallen Angel in Gabriël's arms. He had never imagined he would see Joan like this. She had always seemed too stubborn to die a second time. The rebellious angel who spoke against everything he said, who was angry at everyone over what she believed had been a cruel injustice to her (in retrospect, it was). To see that same girl butchered, her baby ripped from her belly... To see her lover, the man Michael himself felt such affection for, clutching her body to his own, making her blood stained his clothes... It broke Michael's heart.
Joan's head lay back against Gabriël's arm, blind empty eyes wide open, staring toward the Heavens. One hand lay on the ground, the other across her wound as if she were still trying to protect her baby. The blood trail leading back inside the hovel showed that she truly had done all she could, right until her dying breath.
Michael heard footsteps approaching. He didn't have to turn around to know it was Lucifer. He would recognise his tread anywhere.

"I never meant for this," spoke Lucifer wistfully. "I only wanted to make you suffer. Gabriël and Joan were a... a means to an end. I never wished them any harm and fully intended to keep my word to her."

"What you meant does not matter anymore, Lucifer." Michael glanced at him over his shoulder. "You said I needed your help. It now seems I do. Who is Samael working with?"

Lucifer bit his lip, seemingly hesitant to speak. Michael faced him, prompting him to speak.

"He's... with Lilith. She's been posing as Bathory this entire time, but their... relation goes further back than the Countess's death."

Michael groaned silently. Of every creature the darkness could spit at them, it had to be her. The awesome power she used against him and the Nephilim now made perfect sense as well. Adam's discarded wife's involvement complicated matters gravely.

"You know Lilith better than anyone. Do you know where she would go with the child if not to the Circles?"

"There are a few places she might go out of sentimentality," answered Lucifer.

"Go then."

Lucifer stared at Michael. He clearly hadn't expected Michael to let him leave.

"I believe you when you say you meant no harm," said Michael, "and I trust you will try to set things right as best you can, considering your own... experiences. I am already doing penance for my mistakes, so maybe you should start doing the same."

He saw Lucifer's anger flare, but once again, Margaret's calming touch worked like a charm. She slipped her hand into Lucifer's.

"We have to do something," she said. "I can't let Lilith corrupt Joan's baby the way she corrupted ours. If you won't go, I will."

"Don't be a fool, Marina. She'll kill you in a heartbeat."

"Then it seems I need my husband."

Michael pinched his lips at the word, but neither Margaret nor Lucifer noticed. Seeing them together hurt more than he believed it would. Not because he was reminded of the pain he'd endured because of Lucifer's infidelity, but because of the heartache he himself had inflicted. 

"Lucifer, do you remember how you felt when you lost our son and me?" asked Margaret then. "Do you wish that for Gabriël? Do you want that same agony and heartbreak to be the centre of his universe as it was yours?"

"No, of course not," admitted Lucifer with a defeated sigh. His dark eyes met Michael's. "I'll find Lilith. Marina will take the baby up to the Vale on the condition that she be allowed to return to me."

Michael glimpsed at Margaret. He recalled what had happened in the Villa and wondered if she told Lucifer about it. More so, he wondered if that sudden attraction had merely been because of his bond with Lucifer. She was with him now, so it must have been. But Michael preferred to be sure this was her choice.

"Is that what you wish?" he asked Margaret. "Do you want to stay with Lucifer?"

"I do," she spoke.

"Then I will not stand in your way. You have my word."

Margaret nodded. She pulled at Lucifer, but he remained in place, onyx eyes fixed on Michael.

"I have one more condition," he said. "You leave my son for me to deal with."

"Lucifer, you canno—"

"That is the deal, Michael. Take it or leave it."

Michael doubted Lucifer could get Samael to leave Lilith's side, but he bobbed his head in agreement. The couple made to leave, but halted when Gabriël suddenly spoke up, his voice clear, controlled, and absolutely terrifying.

"You have one chance, Lucifer. Just one. You used Joan and me for your revenge. Don't think I won't do the same, using everything and everyone you care about."

The murderous glare in those deep blue eyes startled Michael. He gave Margaret and Lucifer an intent look and mouthed 'go'. Lucifer conjured a portal and pushed Margaret through it, throwing one last gaze at Michael before following her.
Michael exhaled slowly at their departure. Confiding the daughter of the man he cared for to the man who hurt him and he'd hurt as well didn't seem like a good idea, but Lucifer was the best hope they had. He knelt beside Gabriël and put a hand on his shoulder, but Gabriël just stared at the spot where Lucifer had stood. Pain, hatred, and anger radiated off him; it struck Michael as clearly as if he himself felt it.

"We should take her home," he said. "She deserves to rest near family."

Gabriël's lip trembled. He shut his eyes and broke down in tears again. Michael let his friend lean on him. It was the least he could do.

***

The Heavens wept. Grief and sorrow cast an even gloomier shadow over a world already devoured by darkness. Another friend and loved one lost. Another soul seized from existence to be hurled into the unknown.
Gabriël would not allow Joan to be burned. Not again. Nor would he let anyone see her. He would not permit her mutilated body to be the last memory they had of her. She was to be remembered as the strong and beautiful angel she'd always been. 
The Archangel's tears were still wet on his beloved's face and bosom as the waters of the Lake of Neveah took her down to her last resting place. His wings stroked the surface, making the water ripple and crystalise. The ice expanded further until the entire lake sparkled like a mirror. No one could ever hurt her again.

The few who came to say goodbye to their fallen friend left not long afterwards, devastated yet determined to retrieve what had so barbarously been taken. Even if it meant they had to give up their own lives, it was a price they would gladly pay in her memory.
Too taken in by their heartache and thoughts, they did not see the one who saw it all. They did not see his figure underneath the weeping willow, the blindfold he usually wore now in his hand. They did not see or hear him speaking to the Almighty. 
And they did not see the faint glow beneath the frozen surface of the Lake of Nevaeh.