The ceiling fan whirred above Orphiel in a lazy circle. She sprawled over the couch, following it through half-closed eyes. Round and round. With a muted buzz of motion. She lost focus when a finger bopped her on the nose.

Euriiád leaned over her, blocking the ceiling fan from view. Orphiel blinked. Her companion's hair draped, framing dark eyes and a mischievous smile.

"What?"

Euriiád shook her head. "Nothing. Just wanted to bother you."

Orphiel shoved Euriiád's face away as she rose from the couch with a stretch. She couldn't remember how long she'd been resting there, but the way her limbs popped said it'd been a long time. "Very well then. Bother away."

She expected Euriiád to sit beside her, but she didn't move, shifting foot to foot, with fingers tangled in the hair at the crown of her head. She wouldn't meet Orphiel's gaze.

Orphiel frowned. Did something happen? She filtered through her mind until she realized. Oh...

"Did you...leave?" She had been entranced by the ceiling fan for so long, she hadn't realized. Time seemed to drift in and out of focus here. Undefined.

"Yeah," Euriiád answered softly. She tugged on her hair, pulling strands out.

"I see..." Orphiel patted the cushion beside her and finally Euriiád met her gaze. With a small sigh, she sat down, leaning against Orphiel until her head was resting in the crook of her neck.

While Euriiád reached down to play with Orphiel's fingers, Orphiel looked to the window. The sun beamed down in a summer grin, brightening the garden. Sunflowers stared up in awe, while chrysanthemums rustled each other's petals. The trumpet flowers were especially reminiscent. Her eyes lingered on them, and she wondered if it'd been a bad idea to plant them, if just for how her mind wandered at their sight.

"How long has it been now?" she asked Euriiád after a while. "I can't seem to recall."

Euriiád didn't respond at first. "I don't know." She looked up, the dark brown of her eyes glinting, for just a moment, red in the sunlight. "A very long time for humans. But short for us."

Orphiel nodded. "Yes," she said. "That sounds right."

They fell into silence and Orphiel rested her head on top of Euriiád's. Dust motes drifted, glinting like gold when they found the shafts of light coming through the window. Orphiel followed them idly until an odd sensation began on her brow.

She lifted her head. Euriiád looked up with a frown, silently asking what's wrong.

Her warmth was trickling away. Where their hands interlaced, a sharp cold found Orphiel's palm. There was frost spreading down her neck, and a single, hot touch ringing her head. New sensation crept along her back. No, old sensation. The return of long-forgotten limbs, cold, stiff, and feathered. She gasped, her eyes meeting Euriiád's.

She could see the furrow in the other immortal's brow; the dismay as Orphiel blinked once and was forced from their dream.

She jerked, vision rearranging as she awoke to golden eyes. The angel-a messenger angel she could see from the single pair of wings on his back-seemed apologetic. He removed his hand from her shoulder, and Orphiel realized he'd been shaking her awake.

"I'm sorry." He rose to his feet.

Orphiel blinked. Behind him, far in the distance, she could see Earth. Big and bright and blue and green. She stared at it, hand rising to her face. When it caught on the polished bronze of her halo, she realized.

Oh. That's right. She wasn't human. That wasn't her life, her home. It was simply a dream.

She looked away from Earth, down to where she lay against the uneven surface of the moon. Some time ago-how long has she been asleep?-she'd found a crater just large enough for her body, and curled into it.

Part of her regretted that choice as she sat up. Orphiel grunted. Her four pairs of wings stretched out from confinement, stiff and so very strange. She'd forgotten what they felt like; it'd been so long.

Ignoring the fussing of the messenger angel, she stood. Her legs trembled from disuse, cold cracking across her feathers. For a moment she struggled to regain control of her muscles, then it clicked. She shook out her wings with a shiver. The only warmth was that of her halo, and she touched it once before dropping her hand.

"What do you want from me?" she asked the messenger angel.

"Apologies for waking you. I know you've been watching over Earth from here for some time but Archangel Selaphiel has asked for you."

Orphiel frowned. "What? Why is that?" She hadn't spoken to Archangel Selaphiel since she'd requested permission to reside on the moon. So she could watch over Earth, had been her excuse. Truly, she'd only wished to be away from everything. To sleep in peace.

However, Archangel Selaphiel had been delighted by her request. She'd found it strange then, and still couldn't shake the smile he'd given her, even now.

But any semblance of guilt inside her faded at the messenger angel's next words.

"He wishes for you to join the war."

"The war?" Her body stiffened.

The messenger nodded solemnly. "Yes. We are at war."

It took everything not to show the horror overcoming her. War. How long had it been since the last one? Since she'd been gifted her fourth pair of wings in valor? Since she and her comrades devastated the first three rings of Hell? Orphiel still remembered the weight of the sword as it chopped off countless heads; as it sawed through countless horns. The taste of Gluttony's poisonous rain as she fled with all the rest.

War.

She'd turned to sleep to escape those memories, and had found herself in a dream. But she wasn't dreaming anymore. This was reality; she was wide awake.

Orphiel turned from the angel, two pairs of wings wrapping around her lower body. It was like the habit she'd had as a human. Hugging herself in comfort.

Or was that already something she'd done before the dream? She couldn't remember.

With her back still turned, Orphiel said, as steady as she could, "I see." She took a deep breath. Another habit unfit for immortal disposition. "When must I leave?"

"Now..." The young angel looked worried as she turned back to him. It reminded her of how she'd been millenia ago. Back when all she wanted was to make her fellow angels proud.

"Very well. I couldn't disobey Archangel Selaphiel now, could I?"

The messenger angel nodded, relieved.

Orphiel tested her wings. They flexed like newly discovered muscles; feathers trembling with each flap. She lifted off the ground shakily, and the angel gave a strange look as he watched from above, already airborne.

Muscle memory kicked in slowly. Like riding a bike after many years. The moon's weak gravity helped, thankfully, and she soon followed the messenger angel without issue.

Orphiel looked back over her shoulder as they left. She could still see the crater she'd slept within, and for a moment, she wasn't staring at the moon from such a close distance. Her feet were planted among a flowerbed, head raised to stare above. A harvest moon, they called it. The perfect companion for late night gardening.

She blinked and the moon was no longer a small circle caught between her thumb and index finger. Orphiel's half-smile faded. She turned away to focus on what lay before her.

It was then that she realized where the messenger angel was leading her. She halted, wings going still as space kept her aloft in its embrace. "Where are you going? You don't... You don't mean for us to travel to Hell through Earth, do you?"

The messenger angel paused in realization. "Oh, yes. Archangel Selaphiel thought it would take too long to go through black hole. From here, Earth makes much more sense."

"So that means..." Orphiel stared at the angel's halo. He nodded.

Dazed, she followed him. Earth. She would go through Earth. It was hard to suppress her giddiness. No angel was allowed on Earth unless given permission by the Council of Archangels. Yet here she was, with Archangel Selaphiel's personal approval.

She paused, excitement dwindling. How bad did they need her in Hell, to allow this?

Before long, Orphiel and the messenger angel reached the edge of Earth's atmosphere. He stopped, and dipped his head until the halo touched the barrier between Earth and space. The permission of entry inscribed upon it beamed brilliantly for a moment, then faded.

The angel looked back at her, halo duller than before. "Let's go. You have Humility, yes?"

The virtue to keep them hidden from mortal eyes. Orphiel searched within until she found a faint energy that spoke of bashful words and denial of praise. Odd. The Humility inside her seemed weaker than she last remembered it. Still, it was enough to cloak herself.

The two of them entered Earth without grandeur. Orphiel lagged behind, drinking in the sight. Bursts of lights dotted the continents in clusters of galaxies, and she thought of the humans that called this place home. Somewhere among these oceans and valleys and mountains and cities, she thought of a small house with a colorful garden. Was it down there? She imagined landing on its stoop. An exclaimed welcome and mischievous smile greeting her beyond the door.

Orphiel's breath caught, despite immortal lungs, and she pushed away her pointless musings.

It didn't matter anyway, for the messenger angel didn't lead her through land of any kind, mortal touched or not. They flew above Earth, following a line of ocean until they reached the bottom of the world.

Humility was merely a precaution, and she let its energy slip from her body as they found themselves in the furthest place from man. The hole down to Hell was small, no more than seven wingspans across-though her mind first filled it with a human's five meters-and surrounded by dunes of snow. No one used it anymore. The demons knew not of its existence, and no angel had been allowed this way in so long.

There was a steadily growing knot of dread in Orphiel's throat as they descended down into it.

The cold of Earth dissipated within the first kilometers, until it grew to a scorching heat Orphiel had almost forgotten. Were she human, her skin would've melted from her bones, but as she was now, so utterly immortal, she felt nothing other than faint discomfort as they landed the first ring of Hell.

The fields of Limbo were filled with the aftermath of battle. Ichor ran like rivers between the faceless, forgotten sinners. They stumbled over broken wing and horn; with the bodies of the fallen immortals caught between.

They weren't dead. Angels and demons cannot die. But there were some things worse than death.

The decapitated head of an angel watched Orphiel as she landed. The halo upon their head was bent so sharply it looked as if it might snap, and there was so much ichor it pooled in the socket of their eyes like tears.

Orphiel turned so that she didn't have to face such a sight.

"We have already taken over the first three rings," the messenger angel said. "But the fourth is proving a challenge."

"I see."

The messenger angel shifting, body half-turned as if to flee. He kept glancing at the head. His first time then.

"You may go. I can find my way to the battle-front on my own." It wasn't as if this was a new sight to her.

With relief he didn't try to hide, the angel retreated, while Orphiel descended further into the depths.

The second ring, of Lust, wailed in her ears far before she reached its domain. Gallows towered, with the bodies of sinners hung from their ropes. The neverending storm swung them, back and forth like the most cruel of pendulums.

She fought against the winds, avoiding bodies of both sinner and immortal alike. A demon's torso hurled past, clipping the edge of her wings.

Ichor slicked over Orphiel's feathers, even after she regained control. She disregarded it. In Gluttony, it would make no difference.

This was proved to be true when she entered the third ring. Putrid rain fell in waves, viscous with all manner of vile things. It drowned her down and Orphiel's mind conjured the memories of her last time; grappling demons against the force of the tide.

This was where the demons won; where the angels fled.

The rain burned her eyes just like it'd done back then; forced its way up her nose and into her lungs. Settled within the space the same as air had.

She swam through the sludge. Down, down, down. Until she fell beyond Gluttony and entered the fourth ring of Hell.

Greed.

She'd never seen this place before, and wished that were still true. Sinners damned to eternity fought over the riches they'd hoarded so fiercely in life. Like wild beasts they clawed and bit and screamed. A man chewed another's throat out, even as his eyes were torn from their sockets. A woman took a dagger of pure gold to a mangled heap's innards, chopping them to finely cut pieces.

Between these punished souls, angels and demons fought. Less frenzied, but with enough ferocity that Orphiel froze just beyond the battle. Her lungs rattled with poison, her wings twitched with the urge to flee.

War.

War.

A three-horned demon lunged for her, breaking from the fray. Orphiel dodged, lifting off the ground only to slam back down at the reminder of where she was. The only way out was through Gluttony's rain.

The demon spewed insults and attacked her again. His jagged claws sought purchase in the flesh of her neck. She avoided him but not quick enough. Ichor dripped a line down her throat and pooled in the dip of her collar.

Orphiel winced, kicking out in reflex. The demon's legs swept from under him, and he fell. Before she could flee, he reached out and grabbed her leg.

The claws dug in deep. With a frantic flutter of wings, Orphiel lost balance. Instead of ashy ground, she slammed into a mutilated carcass. Orphiel blinked. A mortal crouched beside her, teeth spread in a bloody smile. It was the woman with the golden dagger.

Orphiel hadn't realized how close to the battle she'd gotten in her attempts to dodge the demon.

The demon tore at her leg, reminding her that he was still a threat, while the sinner brought the dagger down, as if to cut straight through her to the mortal guts underneath. Orphiel struck out, stealing the dagger and stabbing it into the demon's hand.

He jerked back with a hiss. Orphiel scrambled away from him and the sinner. The demon eyed the dagger in her hand, red eyes flashing. Orphiel faltered. He took notice and struck.

He shredded her with claws and snapped at her with teeth, all the while Orphiel tried to get away. In a desperate attempt she took the dagger to his face. It stabbed through cheek and jaw. Tendons tore; his mouth gaped.

A wounded noise escaped the demon, and Orphiel pinned him to the ground despite his struggle. She brought the dagger to his throat. He froze, red eyes flared and mouth caught wide. If she plunged deeper and severed his head, he would spend the rest of eternity without a body. Immortals could heal from anything. But not this.

She stared, blade trembling. Why couldn't she do it? She'd ended so many demons in her existence. Why, now, did she hesitate?

Why was it not the face of this random demon that she saw held down by her blade?

She let out a swear unfit for angelic ears. With a surge of anger, at herself, at the demon, she took the dagger and sawed off the tip of one of his horns. It came away in a continuous spurt of ichor down Orphiel's front.

The demon lay in utter shock as she took the point of the horn and slammed it into his chest. He did not move as she stood, only whimpered.

Guilt made her look away from the sorry sight. She knew how important horns were to demons, for they expressed rank in a similar way to an angel's wings. Still, this was better decapitation.

It was...It was all that she could do.

She fled from him into the heart of battle. Everywhere, ichor sprayed, bright as gold. Wings went limp, horns fell. Halos glinted and red eyes flashed. Mortals danced like the space between lines, unbothered and unseeing.

On her own head, Orphiel's halo sat heavy. Her wings fluttered like caged birds.

She itched to run. To get out. Fly up until the Earthen sky greeted her and the snow melted on her tongue. The golden dagger sat unnatural in her palm. She tried to fill it with Diligence but the virtue was weak within her chest. Hollow.

Demons came for her, noticing her hesitation. Noticing the way her fingers trembled around the dagger. She avoided them at first, but as she fell deeper into the battle, she knew she needed to fight back.

Orphiel tried to calm herself. In. Out. Bitter air filled, then escaped her lungs. Her mind settled. She couldn't flee. Not like this.

She only needed to survive.

And so, with every demon that came at her, Orphiel did what she had to. No severed heads. No cut horns after the first demon. Her body was dealt the consequence of her actions, in the end. To fight but not maim would've been suicide, were she mortal.

But she wasn't.

Into a dance, she fell. Strike, dodge, trip, flee.

Strike a demon with the blunt end of her blade.

Dodge the vicious sword of another.

Trip the one that lunges for her wings.

Flee as they overwhelm her in numbers.

It became hard to focus as it went on. Mind separating from body. Instinct splitting from consciousness. She was on a battlefield, between sinner and demon and fellow angel. But she thought of a garden. Flowers blooming under open sky. Sun shining through the window.

She parried a demon's blow.

She laughed at something someone said, and when her fit of laughter made her stomach weak, she leaned against them.

She swept her leg out, and sent another demon down.

The other person, in that sun-soaked room, put an arm around her and she looked into dark eyes like earth after rain. Warm and amused and mischievous, and when Orphiel blinked she could see the undertone of red. She hadn't minded.

In the fourth ring of Hell, Orphiel came out of memory, out of a dream, only for it to become real before her eyes.

Across the battlefield, someone met her gaze. With red eyes and a face she found as achingly foreign as familiar.

Orpiel froze. So did the demon she had made a life with out of dreams. She could see the way her brows rose, the words her lips formed under the cacophony of Hell.

"Orphiel?"

But when Orphiel responded, "Euriiád?" the word had no chance to settle. She was struck down. Pain exploding across her wings. She blinked, grit stinging her eyes. Orphiel knew something had happened, but had no chance to think as she fell from Hell entirely.

Her eyes opened to a familiar dream.

She lay on the couch, watching the ceiling fan spin a dreary circle. Round...and round...

She prayed for Euriiád to appear above her, but she never did. Orphiel was alone in a dream that was always meant to be shared.

She sat up, body light without the weight of halo or wings.

"Hello? Euriiád?"

Silence.

She looked out the window. The flowers were wilting. Sunflowers and chrysanthemums and gardenias and peonies. And the red roses that Euriiád loved to stare at. She would pick the petals until they were nothing more than thorny stems, or until Orphiel scolded her.

Now the petals fell without her.

The sky was overcast, as if it might rain, and beyond the garden was the turning leaves of a recent autumn. How long had she been gone? Summer had just begun when she last looked out this window.

Orphiel sat in the empty room. Looked to the empty garden. The only flowers still thriving were the trumpet flowers. Bright like polished brass; they seemed to reflect hidden sunlight back into her eyes, making them sting.

She frowned.

Oh.

Her fingers came away from her face wet. She was crying.

"I can...cry?" she asked the empty room.

There was no answer. She wasn't sure why she'd expected one.

Orphiel looked back at the trumpet flowers. Had they gotten brighter? Yes. They were brilliant. Shining, and shining. Brighter and brighter, until even when she closed her eyes Orphiel could see their light.

Heat coalesced in the center of her forehead, circling the entirety of her head. She stumbled. Fell over the back of the couch.

Orphiel expected to slam into the soft cushions.

But they never came. Instead, her eyes opened to Hellish light; body jerking up rather than down.

She blinked but no tears fell. In this body she couldn't cry. Orphiel's wings spasmed, and she was suddenly aware of excruciating pain.

"Careful."

Orphiel froze.

No. It couldn't be. Her hands ran across hot, dirty ground. In her ears came the sound of distant screams. On her head a halo sat heavy.

It couldn't be. Not here.

But when she lifted her gaze it was to a face she knew. Recognized right down to the very core of her being, even if it held so many unfamiliar shadows in this place. Horns she'd never seen, five of them, colored a passionate shade between red and purple; similar to that of a bleeding bruise, jut along the demon's hairline, framing her face like a crown, or her own special kind of halo.

Her features were sharp in a way they'd never been on Earth, as if forced to an edge; Her eyes no longer dark brown. The false color drained away, leaving the bright red of them to shine. To pierce Orphiel in the heart she didn't have.

"Euriiád."

The flash of smile was the same, if a little more jagged than before. But it dropped quickly. She reached out as if to help, but stopped before her hands could touch her. "Careful. Your wings..."

Orphiel grimaced as she remembered the pain. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.

"Oh." Feathers fell carelessly, stained in dark gold. The mangled wings, all four pairs, twisted to sharp, unnatural angles. One looked as if it might snap off, while another had been pierced by crude holes.

"She was mauling you," Euriiád said quietly. "You fainted and she was on top of you. By the time I got there, her teeth were at your neck and I..." She looked into Orphiel's eyes. "I severed her head."

The declaration sat heavy. Loyalty was all demonkind stood for. Despite their atrocities, the evils they commit, betrayal of kin was something even they condemn. To go against that...

Orphiel couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I don't regret."

Orphiel looked up at the conviction in her voice. Her eyes were steady, if a little subdued, and she looked at Orphiel with softness. With worry.

Why, oh why, did she feel breathless without the need for air?

Unable to take it, Orphiel looked away. It was only then that she noticed where they were.

On the outskirts of Greed, she lay propped against an abandoned heap of gold, hand still clenched around the dagger. Her back was to the battle, but the screams of agony echoed, and each time she turned to look at her wings, the violence lingered in her periphery. Had Euriiád carried her here?

She was scared to ask out loud, but knew she didn't need to anyway. The answer was obvious.

Euriiád crouched beside her, close enough to help if needed, but much too far for Orphiel to reach out and touch. Orphiel remembered she'd been clad in armor before, with spikes like skewers and ridges like mountains.

Now she wore nothing but scars and wounds and fresh ichor.

"Are you alright?" Orphiel asked.

Euriiád stared at her. "I don't think it's me you should be worried about."

Orphiel disagreed, but hadn't the energy to argue as such. "Please, just answer."

"I'm...fine. Nothing more than a few cuts and bruises."

They lapsed into silence.

"It's strange," Orphiel finally said. "After so long..."

"Yeah," Euriiád said. "Yeah it is."

Orphiel stared down at her wings. They could be fixed. With time. "Do you regret it? Any of it?"

"No. Those dreams were..." Euriiád ran a hand across her chest, right over where her heart would have been. "No," she repeated. "Never."

In the beginning, Orphiel could remember wondering why the dreams happened. They'd theorized, back when loathing was all they shared. She could remember the realization at how much she'd grown to enjoy the dreams, of how much she liked Euriiád's presence

She would stare in the mirror at her bare forehead and back, thinking of how light she felt. How free.

Her wings pulsed with pain now, bringing her out of memory.

"Sometimes, I wonder what I am." Orphiel looked up at Euriiád's words. "Ever since the dreams...I don't find myself at home in this place." She gazed out over Greed, to the raging battle. "I'm not sure when it started. Slowly at first. Sinners' screams became grating, the twisted pleasure of my kin grew unfamiliar. I felt...a stranger, everywhere but in those dreams with you." Her hand reached to touch the horns on her head.

Orphiel couldn't help the relief she felt. "It's the same for me," she said. "For so long I've been struggling, to get my wings and to win the Archangels' favor. Following all that was demanded of me. But it feels so pointless now. So arbitrary in the wake of you."

Euriiád's eyes shot to her, and Orphiel held her gaze, despite how much she warred with herself. "Have we... Have we forsaken ourselves? Our very nature?"

Euriiád hesitated. "I don't know. I'm not sure what my nature even is anymore. Or if there was ever anything to forsake in the first place. I'm a demon, after all." Her smile was strained, with no teeth behind it.

If only Orphiel could share the hollow confidence. But she didn't have the ability to lie. She envied Euriiád for that, and feared the envy in turn. Why would an angel wish to lie, even to herself? Why would she need to in the first place?

Was Orphiel even an angel anymore, if she had truly forsaken herself? And if not an angel, then what...?

The question made her pause. Her wings spasmed at the sudden tension but she ignored it. If she could no longer consider herself an angel...then could she not be a human instead?

It was impossible, yet...

Her mind spun so fast she felt dizzy. "What if we make the dream our reality?"

"What?" Euriiád frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Let's leave. Right now. We'll go to Earth and... we'll be human. We'll escape the chains of our supposed nature. We can do whatever we wish." Her eyes shone the golden-bronze of trumpet flowers and halos. "Let's leave right now."

"You... you want to run away?"

"Yes."

Euriiád sat down beside Orphiel slowly, as if afraid to brush against her. "We'll never be able to take it back, you know? Once we leave, we'll have betrayed everything we once were."

Orphiel nodded, ignoring the lump in her throat. "I know." With the care of handling the most delicate flower, Orphiel took Euriiád's hand in hers.

Euriiád stared down at their interlaced hands and squeezed Orphiel's finger gently. "Are you sure about this? Your wings..."

"It doesn't matter. I'll cut them off if I must. I won't need them on Earth anyway, right?"

Euriiád shook her head, unable to meet Orphiel's resolute gaze. "We would still need a way out of Hell. I can't leave by my own means, and if you can't fly..."

"We'll climb."

Despite herself Euriiád laughed. "Aren't I supposed to be the reckless one?"

Orphiel smiled softly at the conflicted look on her face. "Well? Are you with me?"

Euriiád stared at her, taking in the warmth of her face, the light glimmering in her eyes despite her pain. She lingered on the halo resting against Orphiel's brow.

"Yes," Euriiád finally said. "I'm with you."

Her smile was sharp and toothy, yet so very soft as she stood and held out her hand to Orphiel.

Orphiel took the outstretched hand with a grin of her own. "I knew you would be."

Later, they would stand below a gaping hole, and Orphiel would take her halo off for the first time. Upon her brow, it'd sat so heavy. Yet in her hands it was light, and snapped in half with no effort at all.

"You're sure you want to cut them off?"

She looked back at Euriiád and the golden dagger she held. "Yes. No going back now, right?"

Euriiád smiled. "Right." She touched the crown of horns at her hairline gently.

"Are you sure you want to cut them off?" Orphiel echoed the question.

Euriiád's fingers dropped from her face. The look she gave was resolute. And her answer was given without any words at all.

Orphiel nodded slowly, and turned away, baring her wings to her. She could hear Euriiád's deep breath in, then out, as she gripped the dagger firmly.

"Are you ready?" Euriiád asked.

"Always," Orphiel replied.