A nightingale sang in the dark. It was a sweet song, but lonely, and dampened the mood quite thoroughly.

Or whatever was left of it, anyway. Given their current straits, Gabriel supposed that the forlorn squawking rather matched the overall ambiance of the moment.

"It's just over the river," Gabriel told his companion.

Iavor was silent. The man had not spoken a word since his moment of madness in the Korral household, and wore a forbidding expression that discouraged any attempts at conversation.

Naturally, Gabriel was not deterred. The demon prodded and cajoled the entire way up the mountain. There had been little progress so far, but Gabriel was persistent and singularly talented in angering others. He had faith that he would elicit a response – or start a fight. Either way, Iavor would not be allowed to sink deeper into the mire of heartache in his presence.

The man Gabriel once was would find the entire situation laughable. The death of a mortal woman was an unremarkable event, as natural as the turning of the leaves come autumn. Iavor's reaction was unreasonable.

At present, Gabriel was able to envision himself in Iavor's place only too well. The fear curdling in his gut made him irritable.

And that damn bird was still singing. Gabriel considered turning into his feline form and munching on the foul fowl.

"There is nothing here," Iavor said.

The words broke Gabriel from his increasingly unhinged thoughts. The demon followed Iavor's gaze to the peaceful plain that had once housed a very impressive – and very temperamental – manor. All that remained were the structure's guts, strewn in heaps of broken wood and burned things. Amid the dead grass and gray skies of early winter, it was truly a sad sight.

Iavor levelled Gabriel with a look. Gabriel scowled in response, internally cheered to have a glimpse of his friend back.

"If you think I had anything to do with Valeri's decision to set roots in the middle of nowhere, you do not know me at all," the demon sniffed.

"You should have guided him somewhere safer," Iavor said.

Gabriel's anger was not for show this time. "Let us not speak of who should have done what, Iavor. You coddled that boy into near uselessness. What exactly was your vision for Valeri's life without you there to soften every blow that might come his way?"

"I did not plan on dying," Iavor said, a touch of irritation in his voice.

"No one does!" Gabriel exclaimed.

Iavor fell silent again, his expression stubborn. Gabriel felt like shaking the man. He wondered how Yevelina Hale had dealt with Iavor when he was in such a mood. Probably by throwing sharp things his way – it had been the woman's style.

The thought brought another. Gabriel's ire turned to ashes, clogging his throat.

"Ira does not remember you," he said quietly. "She barely remembers Yevelina, and knew nothing of her own identity until the protective runes her mother put in place broke."

Iavor was too still. Gabriel shifted uneasily, suddenly glad to have led the man so far out of the village. The potential for irrevocable damage was much smaller when the targets in sight were trees and not, say, the cherished home of a grieving child.

"Perhaps it is for the best," Iavor said.

"Oh, by Hel," Gabriel groaned, deflating as the tension of the moment passed.

And people called him dramatic.

"Listen, your daughter is very likely on her way to the Capital as we speak. Ignorance does not suit the woman she has become. If you believe Ira Hale would choose to remain in the dark out of fear, then you are a bigger fool than I thought!" Gabriel snapped.

Iavor looked at him. His eyes were pained, but the terrible cold had left his body.

He slumped into a seat atop something that may have once been a hearth. The slab of stone was at the very heart of the manor's ruins, gleaming bone white among the charred remains of the Beaufort estate. Gabriel found it curious. His eyes narrowed in thought.

"Has Zenith gone with Valeri?" Iavor asked.

"Yes. The dark beast is strangely fond of the boy," Gabriel said.

Zenith was not of the Kingdoms Above. Iavor was once a frequent guest in Hel, back when the realms were open and travel between the worlds was loosely supervised. Gabriel did not know the circumstances around Iavor's meeting with the creature. Iavor refused to share, which had the demon guessing the situation had been either grossly embarrassing or highly unlawful. In any case, Zenith had followed Iavor into Samodevia and remained there, seemingly content to play the role of an unreasonably intelligent horse.

Iavor nodded placidly. "That is a relief, then. What of Horus?"

"The old bird should be around," Gabriel said. "Crow's been asking after him, in that roundabout, biting way he does with things that matter to him."

"It is but right," Iavor agreed. "They are a family, after all."

Gabriel pursed his lips. Horus and Crow were brothers by blood, but their view on the world put them at odds more than it would strangers. They had not seen each other in many years.

A slow smirk pulled at the demon's lips. Perhaps Horus would appreciate news about his estranged brother, and his upcoming happy occasion.

"Whatever you are thinking, do not do it," Iavor said.

Gabriel laughed. "Oh, come on. You cannot deny that it is fun to ruffle his feathers."

Iavor let out a silent sigh. He whistled, the sound low and sharply clear, like a drawn blade. Gabriel made a face.

"I hate when you do that," the demon complained, rubbing at his ears.

"I do not live for your convenience," Iavor told him.

Gabriel laughed under his breath. Truer words had not been spoken all evening.

The rustling of wings soon broke the quiet. A shadow circled over their heads, growing larger and larger as it descended. The creature that touched solid ground had the shape of a tall, sharp-boned man with hair the color of ash and eyes that pierced through skin.

"You are alive," Horus said in greeting.

Gabriel snorted. As much as Crow and Horus liked to bicker, the similarities between their characters were not few. The dry, no-nonsense manner of speaking and bad temperament being but a few notable examples.

"I am," Iavor agreed. "How do you fare, Horus?"

"I've been living in a tree for the past three months," Horus said. His tone made it difficult to tell whether the man considered this to be a bad thing.

Gabriel cast a dubious look at a nearby oak. The branches were certainly thick but not nearly as comfortable as Gabriel would prefer, in any of his forms.

"I trust you have kept abreast of happenings in Samodevia in my absence," Iavor said. It appeared he had decided to sidestep the issue of Horus' housing, and any feelings the bird may or may not have about it.

Horus did not bother to reply. His expression spoke of how little he cared to be questioned about his duties.

Gabriel was curious to hear more on the subject. Horus was Iavor's eyes in Samodevia, and would often bring home news of happenings that had yet to reach the ears of even the most well-connected of Gabriel's contacts. Gabriel had attempted to steal him from Iavor on more than one occasion. The stubborn bird was tempted by neither gold nor glory however, and was rather prone to pecking at people that inspired his ire. The demon had needed his hand sewn back together on one memorable occasion.

"We will speak on this later," Iavor said, dashing Gabriel's hopes of gleaming useful information. "Tell me, how is Valeri?"

"Alive, despite his own best efforts," Horus said dryly.

His eyes were rounder than that of a human, and sat large and deep into his face. He looked at Iavor without blinking for a long, pointed moment.

"Thank you for remaining by his side," Iavor said at last.

Horus let out a snort that sounded like a warble. "Am I to carry news of your revival to the boy?" he asked.

The man sounded put-upon. Had Gabriel not personally witnessed Horus grooming Valeri's hair like a mother hen, he might have believed his irritation.

"Not at present. Find him first. If he sends a missive through you, deliver it here before passing it on to its final destination," Iavor instructed.

"Anything else?" Horus asked.

Iavor hesitated. "If my – if Ira Hale is with him," he said, the words halting, "Reveal yourself and answer any questions she asks honestly."

"As you say," Horus replied.

The man did not linger. Once he received Iavor's final word, the hawk took to the skies. Gabriel watched as he shifted from one shape to another, marveling at the seamless grace of the transformation.

"Already playing favorites, I see," the demon commented.

"Valeri will know in good time," Iavor said.

"You should know, young Miss Hale does not indulge him as you do. Whatever she learns, Valeri is likely to learn as well," Gabriel noted evenly.

Iavor looked somewhat taken aback. Gabriel shook his head at his friend's blindness. The man was sharp as a knife, except when he wanted to be obtuse.

"I am sure Ira will approach the situation with due care," Iavor said.

Gabriel snorted. Ira was not precisely the caring type, at least not in the way Iavor imagined. The demon decided against arguing the point. Iavor would discover his folly one day, and it would be all the more amusing a sight to see his surprise then.

"You have changed," Iavor said.

"Mhm. A compliment better follow," Gabriel said lightly, his smile shallow.

He knew where this conversation was bound. In a way, he was surprised Iavor had not drawn attention to the change in his demeanor sooner – it would have put them on equal ground, both affected by something utterly beyond their power to control.

"You have found your Anima," Iavor guessed.

"I do not wish to discuss it," Gabriel said. He had thought that he might; if anyone would understand, it would be Iavor. Talking about Dimitri meant thinking about him, however, and Gabriel could not do more of that and keep a level head.

Iavor studied him in silence. Gabriel kept his eyes on the horizon, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Whenever you are ready," Iavor said.

Gabriel nodded tightly. He did appreciate the offer, and the man's tact in not pressing where he was not wanted. Gabriel did not share that quality. He meant to dig for more information on Yevelina Hale so as to better understand the circumstances around the woman's death, and its potential causes. Iavor had struck first however, and now there was no way for Gabriel to advance without the threat of Iavor digging into his own wounds.

Gabriel scowled internally. Clever, clever man.

"Do you suppose we would be welcomed back into the Korral household?" Gabriel sighed, giving up on achieving anything productive that miserable night.

"Young Sofia is unlikely to have forgiven us so quickly," Iavor replied.

Gabriel scoffed at the man. "Do not include me in your crime. I was not the one breaking things."

"You did do a very good job of spectating, however," Iavor pointed out.

Gabriel pursed his lips in mock affront. A snort slipped through, and he gave up the play. "Better the kitchen then some poor man's neck. You folded quick enough when the girl discovered the mess."

"Be respectful, Gabriel," Iavor reminded.

"I do not hear you calling her, Your Highness, either," Gabriel said.

"She has not yet assumed the title," Iavor said. "It is not my place to burden her with something she may not want."

Gabriel's brows rose in surprise. It had never occurred to him that Sofia may not wish to take her place as the rightful Queen of Samodevia. "Does she not carry the Queen's soul?" he asked.

The Queen of Samodevia could not die. Her body may pass, but her soul remained, forever bound to care for those in her domain. Gabriel was not clear on how knowledge passed from one reincarnation to the next, but he assumed that something of the kind occurred. No Queen had challenged her fate in the past.

"She does. However, she may not be of the same heart, or vision, as the Queen I once served," Iavor said.

Gabriel fell into thought. He did not much care about Samodevia's Court or Queen, but a drastic change in leadership would inevitably affect Hel – and possibly Gabriel's own, more immediate plans.

"Do you think –" he began, then stopped suddenly, mouth still slightly parted.

Iavor frowned, a trace of alert tightening his face. "What is it?"

"There is a teapot glaring at me," Gabriel said.

He pointed at a pile of rubble. Iavor looked that way and froze as well, head tilting in concentration. Gabriel was secretly relieved to see his friend reacting to the bizarre sight. For a moment, the demon had worried his own mind had finally snapped.

The teapot was the size of a palm. Its spout curved from its round belly, letting out puffs of steam with no fire in sight. Its lid was no lid at all but a large, round eye.

And it was currently glaring at Gabriel with all of its might.

"A domovoi," Iavor said. "Albeit one much diminished in power."

Gabriel's brows shot up. "You!" he exclaimed, thrusting an accusing finger the teapot's way. "It was you, wasn't it! You made my stays at the Manor absolutely miserable, you rotten thing!"

Gabriel dashed for the pot. The domovoi widened its single eye and toddled away, surprisingly swift for something that lacked actual legs.

The teapot bounced from one place to another, avoiding Gabriel's clawed hands. The chase took the demon in a circle around Iavor's seated form. He raised his eyes to glare at the man and demand that he help, just in time to see the domovoi jump into Iavor's arms and huddle there like a frightened kitten.

"Give it here," Gabriel demanded.

"No," Iavor said simply, and put a protective hand over the teapot's shaking body.

Gabriel stared in disbelief. "Fine!" he exclaimed, "I hope you enjoy scalding doorknobs and disappearing stairs!"

"There are neither doorknobs nor stairs here," Iavor pointed out reasonably. "Besides, I do not think it minds my presence."

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. The domovoi did indeed appear quite content, settled all primly in Iavor's lap. "The Manor did like Valeri," the demon allowed grudgingly. Ira as well, come to think on it. Perhaps it was something in their blood.

"Domovoi do not guard physical structures. They are born once a house becomes a home, and protect all within it," Iavor said.

The family, that was. Gabriel glanced at the round-eyed teapot again.

Perhaps he could forgive it, this once.