Margaret walked around aimlessly. The entire Vale was in a bustle, but it seemed nobody needed her help. Catherine took charge in the Scola with Luke to ensure the artistas worked on fortifying the defences or giving the weapons a little extra kick. The prospect of the nearing battles encouraged them to work together for once (and they feared Catherine's wrath more than the Devil himself).
Raphael had arrived with a weakened Archangel named Uriël a while ago. He was brought to the Hospitium while Raphael returned to the Mortal Realm, muttering something about Gabriël. Margaret had gone to see if she could help there, but Isabelle had everything well at hand. The rest of the physicians were busy making cures for the warriors and toxins to be used against demons. It seemed that even in a place that usually always needed an extra pair of hands for this or that, there was nothing for her to do. 
Not that anything she'd done would have mattered. Her mind and heart just weren't in it anymore. Why should she care about the Final Battle and demons knocking on Heaven's door when the actual struggle was going on inside her? Lately, Margaret had been remembering more of her mortal life and to say it gave her cause to think was putting it mildly. Some things were still hazy, and her head hurt when she tried to focus, but others were clear as day. And they terrified her.

Margaret halted when she noticed her feet had taken her to the Villa. The winged lions were still gone. Their absence only made Michael's absence stronger. His disappearance added more to her anxiety. What if they never found him again? She needed Michael. He alone held the answers to the clutter of her memories. And... there was that feeling, too.
She held no particular love or fondness for the Lord Protector, but Margaret had always felt a connection with him. An attraction, almost. After learning how entwined their pasts truly were, that sensation had only grown. It had prompted her to offer herself to him, even though her mind had screamed at her not to. At the time, she felt disappointed Michael had turned her away, but now... Even if it had only been that one time, just a quick sexual release, it would have been one too many. A mistake beyond repair. It would have changed everything between them. Perhaps it already had.

Margaret sighed despondently and made to leave, but she then caught sight of a figure at the top of the stairs. That was odd. Gabriël hadn't returned yet, as far as she knew, and no one else would dare enter Michael's home if he wasn't there. She hesitated a moment, but eventually, curiosity got the better of her. Taking two steps at a time, she ran up and into the Villa.
A sombre gloom and dead silence reigned within. Margaret only heard her own footsteps as she carefully ventured further. She halted when she came upon a man, about mid-twenties maybe, on the other side of the parlour, glancing over his shoulder as she entered. He had messy, copper hair, lighter than her own auburn curls, and a pale skin. His eyes were piercing green. No, not eyes — eye.
Margaret drew in her breath as he turned to face her. His face looked as if it had been cut in half. One side was beautiful and fair, while the other was horribly scarred. And the eye on the scarred half held no pupil, no iris, just ghostly white sclera. He looked like something of nightmares, something that neither Heaven nor Hell wanted to claim. 

Upon seeing Margaret's stunned expression, the stranger raised a hand and said, "Forgive me. I did not mean to scare you."

His voice was soft and pleasant to hear. Margaret exhaled and shook away her initial shock.

"You didn't," she said as amicably as she could. "I just didn't expect anyone to be here. Are you looking for the Lord Protector? He's not here. He's —"

"Missing. Yes, I know. I came to see if his replacement was here."

Margaret detected a hint of contempt in those words.

"Gabriël went to Earth a while ago," she said. "I'm not sure when he'll be back."

"Damn. You wouldn't know if he went to Adam's Peak by any chance? To see an Archangel called Uriël?"

"Uriël is here. He's at the Hospitium."

"Thank God." The stranger sighed in relief. "I came to warn Gabriël the Horsemen were after him. I feared the worst when I couldn't find anyone here, but Gabriël must've learned before I did and got to Uriël in time. Thank you. You've released a considerable weight off my shoulders."

He smiled at her. A warm sensation coursed through Margaret's body. 

"I'm sorry, this may seem like an odd question, but... have we met before?" she asked him. "I feel like we're supposed to know each other."

"I believe not. Oh, but where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself yet. My name is Samael. I'm the —"

"Angel of Death," finished Margaret, her voice trailing in reverence.

"My reputation precedes me, I see." Samael grinned at her recognition of his title. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

She shook her head. What she knew of the Angel of Death, she knew from the other angels. Michael had been the one to guide her to the Gates and into the Vale upon her death. But then... why did Samael seem so familiar? She walked over and held out her hand. 

"It's nice to meet you, Samael. My name is Margaret, but people call me Marina."

He briefly glimpsed at her hand but made no attempt to shake it. On the contrary — he drew back, creating some distance between them. Margaret slowly dropped her arm and tilted her head in confusion at his sudden unease. Was he afraid? Did something happen when he touched someone? 

"Why do they call you Marina?" Samael asked then, taking Margaret by surprise.

"Um, maybe because I like the sea so much? I grew up outside Antioch; the Mediterranean Sea wasn't far away."

"I know the region. It's a lovely place."

Samael smiled before lowering his eyes. Despite his deformity, Margaret found him to be quite handsome, too. His smile took away some of the horror that marred his face. She wondered if he had always looked like this. Slowly, she dared to inch closer and reached up. The Angel of Death flinched as her fingers carefully touched his scarred cheek. He closed his eyes then, allowing Margaret to cup his face. His reaction intrigued her. It was as if no one had ever touched him like this before — lovingly and with care.

"What happened?" she whispered, gently stroking his cheek with her thumb.

"I've had them for as long as I can remember," said Samael. "Born with them, I believe."

"Born? You mean you have parents?"

"Once."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

Samael raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Her breath caught when she noticed a tear brimming his green eye. Suddenly, Samael pulled Margaret into an embrace. Though startled at his action, she didn't push him off. She didn't really know why or how. All she knew was that this being, this creature, was someone she was supposed to know and care for.
Samael pushed himself away as soon as he realised what he was doing. A tinge of pink flushed his unblemished cheek. He opened his mouth, and Margaret waited for him to say something, but then his head snapped to the Villa's entrance. His brow pinched and his expression hardened.

"I have to go," he said.

"What? No, Samael, wait!"

Margaret rushed after the Angel of Death as he headed out. She had to know why she had this feeling about him. But when she got to the steps, she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Samael's wings. They were pitch-black with a silky glow, much like a raven's. Even though they held something ominous, Margaret believed them to be ravishing and so different from angel's white or Archangel's ivory. She lingered back in awe.

"Can I... see you again?" Samael glanced back with the good side of his face, green eye glistening.

"Yes, of course," said Margaret.

He nodded in gratitude. With a strong beat of his wings, the Angel of Death then took to the sky, leaving Margaret to wonder, Samael... Who are you?

***

Though Gabriël's wing hadn't completely healed yet, he got back to the Gates in one piece. The moment he clumsily landed in a ruffle of feathers like a baby bird who just learned how to fly, Peter put a thick blanket of mist between him and the souls.

"What were you thinking, staying behind to fight those things?" reprimanded the Keeper as he helped Gabriël to his feet. "You're not a warrior, Gabriël. They could've captured you, or worse."

"I'm well aware, Peter, and I appreciate your concern." Gabriël groaned when he drew in his wings. "But Rafe needed time to get Uriël away. Please tell me they got here safely."

"They did. Uriël's in the Hospitium with Isabelle, but Raphael went back to Adam's Peak to help you."

"He what?"

Gabriël meant to run back and dive to the Mortal Realm again, but stopped when a winged figure landed in front of him. 

"Gabriël!" Raphael wrapped his arms around Gabriël, nearly squishing him. "Thank the Lord you're here! Do you have any idea how worried I was? I've been looking all over for you. I didn't know if the Horsemen took you, or if you were still alive, or —"

"Rafe! For Heaven's sake, calm down." Gabriël pushed the other Archangel off. "I'll tell you everything, but not here. Let's go to the Hospitium; I need to see Uriël." 

Raphael nodded, though he still seemed flustered. They left the Gates on foot at Gabriël's request and walked briskly through the Agora. Many looked up from their work and whispered as they passed. Gabriël heard his name a few times and Michael's as well, but he couldn't be bothered with any rumours right now. There were far more important matters to attend to.

"This way, come on." Raphael guided Gabriël to the apothecary when they entered the Hospitium.

"Why are we—no, no, Rafe!" Gabriël protested as Raphael closed the door behind him and pushed him toward a chair. "I told you I have to talk to Uriël."

"Right now, you need to shut up and do as your physician tells you," said Raphael in a stern voice. "I noticed you wincing and gripping your shoulder as we walked. Were you hurt?"

Gabriël pinched his lips, debating if he should try to make a run for it. Yet he knew first-hand how stubborn Raphael could get with patient-care, and his wing still needed tending to. The physician would tie him up and pump him full of sedative if that's what it would take to treat him.

"My left wing," Gabriël finally said.

"Show me."

Gabriël took his bloodstained shirt off — he now understood the wide-eyed stares and murmurs at the Agora — and unfolded his wings with a grunt. Raphael leaned in to examine the left.

"These are all new feathers," he mumbled. "Growing new ones doesn't happen overnight, much less in a few hours. What happened?"

"Death got hold of my wing during our fight," answered Gabriël. "I wasn't quick enough to dodge the attack."

"Who helped you get away?" asked Raphael. "And don't try to convince me you escaped on your own because even Michael can't handle the Four Horsemen alone. Besides, I saw the footsteps in the mud when I went back to search for you, and your wing has clearly been treated. As I said, new feathers don't just grow in a few hours. Not unless they're forced to do so. The fact that it's near impossible to stop Death's touch from spreading also weighs in. I would say it can only be done by Heaven's Fire, but the only one who can wield that substance is currently missing. So out with it. Who was with you?"

Gabriël hung his head. He had no choice.

"It was Lucifer," he admitted.

"Come again?" Raphael raised a brow. "How the devil did he know where to find you? Oh, sorry, poor choice of words."

"He sensed I was in danger and came to help me."

"He fought with you against the Horsemen?"

"Believe me, I was as surprised as you are. And if he hadn't used Heaven's Fire, I don't know what —"

"Whoa, whoa, hold on a second! Lucifer used Heaven's Fire?"

"Yes, he used Michael's sword and —"

"LightBringer? The first Fallen Angel and current Master of the Circles? The Devil himself? Lucifer?"

Gabriël nodded. Raphael stumbled into the chair behind him and gripped the table for support. He stared blindly ahead for a few seconds and then turned back to Gabriël.

"So... he's not in league with them?" he asked, confused.

"I don't know anymore, Rafe." Gabriël ran a hand through his dirty hair. "I don't know if helping me is meant to throw me off, to make sure I trust him, or if he wants something else."

"And he used Heaven's Fire? How?"

"I think it has something to do with the words next to Michael's rune in the chronicle —'Heaven's Fire, Heaven's Light'. Lucifer said that his light powers were connected to Michael's control over fire, which is why they were... always together."

Gabriël peered at Raphael through his lashes, unsure if his friend was aware of the full extent of Lucifer and Michael's relationship. They'd confided their secret to a couple of angels, and Gabriël was the only one left of those select few. Many things had already been revealed about both Lucifer and Michael, but he was hesitant to reveal something so private. But Raphael caught Gabriël's apprehensive gaze and nodded. 

"I knew. I think everyone was aware they were lovers, despite Michael's best efforts to hide it."

"He wasn't ashamed of being with another male," said Gabriël quickly, feeling a sudden urge to defend Michael in this. "He just worried what your reactions would have been at two Archangels being with each other. I understood his concern, since I was in the same predicament with Dina."

"Oh, please. Only Uriël sees us as siblings, and only because we all came into existence together," reasoned Raphael. "Biologically, we're as related to each other as a pig is to a fish. Even back then, none of the other Archangels would've raised any objections. I honestly thought they were good for each other. Michael tempered Lucifer's mischief somewhat, and Lucifer... Pardon me for putting it bluntly, but the sex must have been great because that was the only time I ever saw Michael genuinely smile."

Gabriël shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He really didn't want to remember how he had discovered Michael and Lucifer were lovers by catching them red-handed in their amorous activity. He'd seen nothing but heard plenty. Dina had teased him relentlessly about it after she forced it out of him.

"Yes, well," Gabriël cleared his throat, "as I was saying, Lucifer told me that when he fell, he never really lost his powers. Not completely, anyway. Because of Michael."

"But Lucifer was completely taken over by the darkness by the time you and Michael dealt with him. Even if there was a bond between them, it should have broken. Right?"

"I don't know. But Uriël does, which is why I need to see him. I know I'm getting ahead of myself, Rafe, but if there really is a chance that connection still exists..."

"Lucifer is the key to finding Michael."