When Michael caught Gabriël's chiding scowl, he quickly averted his gaze. While they'd stopped themselves before anything happened that they would both regret, it had still gone far enough. Michael felt a tinge of shame even since he had instigated that first kiss. 
This was, after all, the same man who had tortured him for weeks. The same man who was grieving the loss of his wife. They couldn't just skip to the next page and start a new chapter. Yet, if there was even the smallest chance of having him back...

"What was that about?" Michael cleared his throat, dispelling the thought as he looked at Gabriël.

"Minor disagreement," answered Gabriël sharply. "Anne and Thomas are joining us."

"Are you certain?" asked Michael, turning to the Nephilim. "You have already done more than enough. We will not ask you to risk more."

"You're not asking; we're telling you," replied Anne. "And I'll hear no more of this now, so whatever else you want to say, you can stuff it."

Lucifer chuckled at Anne's boldness. Gabriël pinched his lips, but he thankfully kept silent. However much he hated Lucifer was here, Gabriël needed him. Just not in the same manner as Michael needed him.

"All right," he said. "I suggest we —"

"You mind telling us what to expect in the Circles when we get there?" Gabriël demanded suddenly, his blue eyes still fixed on Lucifer. "Now that you're here, you might as well be useful."

"Ask nicely," said Lucifer.

Gabriël's fist was halfway up to strike at Lucifer, but Michael speedily blocked his path and caught him, which earned him another condemning glare from the Archangel. Lucifer smirked, amused at how Michael struggled to keep Gabriël away from him.

"Oh, fine," he said then with unnecessary dramatic flair. "If I must tell you what should be common knowledge, I will. What you can expect, Gabriël, is everything you've ever feared and more. And I am not simply speaking of beasts, ghouls, and demons. Your worst nightmares come to life in the Circles, and they will rip you apart, over and over again."

"How do we get through?" Anne stood from her sickbed and moved to help Thomas.

"You can't. Only the souls of the damned can pass through all Circles, but no one has ever been brave enough to try it since they would also have to experience every torment. Gabriël was extremely fortunate to get his forces as far as he got them when he attacked, but he wouldn't have got much further. You simply can't get in and out of Hell without us knowing about it."

"Actually, there is a way," said Michael. "Both the Vale and the Circles have an entrance hidden from all but one."

"That is a myth," countered Lucifer. "And even if it isn't, the Angel of Death is a neutral being. I realise Samael isn't the perfect example, but Azrael was. She would never have told us, not even if the world itself was set ablaze."

"True, Azrael could not disclose the location of the gateways to anyone on either side. But if, say, a mortal was to discover them whilst their soul was travelling between realms..."

"Whilst... Oh, you didn't."

But it was exactly what Michael had done. Lucifer wasn't the only one who knew how to scheme.

"Around the turn of the first millennium after Christ, I found a mention of the gateways in one of the elder scrolls at the Archivum," Michael said. "I confronted Azrael about it, but as you say, she remained neutral. She neither confirmed nor denied they existed, but she did suggest a way for me to find what I was looking for. I needed a mortal soul whose fate was still undetermined and could travel through both realms. The choice fell to a temperamental man with strong views but a good heart; Durante Alighieri."

Lucifer scoffed. "Of course, La Divina Commedia. I should have known there was more to it."

"Indeed, there was," affirmed Michael. "During his exile, I brought Alighieri close enough to death through an infected battle wound. Azrael remained at his side the entire time, posing as the poet Virgil, then as the woman Alighieri had always admired from afar, Beatrice Portinari. At first, he believed what he'd seen were deliriums from the fever. But as the images haunted him, he eventually penned everything down, just like I intended him to do. His work was considered fiction by the mortals, but did instil some fear in them, and it gave me the information I needed. Unfortunately, Azrael then vanished, and I was forced to undertake other measures."

He gestured to Vlad Tepes. Lucifer's eyes flicked darkly to the Fallen Angel who had duped him.

"I needed someone who would be strong enough to withstand the darkness, but it could not be an angel. Tepes possessed more darkness than light because of his actions on Earth, but he was also loyal to God. I bound him to me through that loyalty and allowed him to enter the Vale upon death. I trained him personally until he was ready to become a Fallen Angel and enter the Circles willingly."

"I used Alighieri's work as my guide and scoured every inch of the Circles whilst also offering my service to you," continued Tepes, facing Lucifer. "It took me some time, but I eventually found the gateway in a ruined chamber on the lowest level of the palace's east wing. It's barely used, though perhaps the previous Angel of Death may have had something to do with that since none found it before me. I marked the gateway and remained in the Circles as ordered."

"I then set the next part of my plan in motion." Michael took over again. "A portal to the gateway in the Circles was created in the Mortal Realm, so one particular group could pass it when the time was right."

He turned to the Nephilim. Their eyes widened as they grasped what Michael's intent had been all along. Lucifer looked at them and then back at Michael.

"You were going to use the Nephilim as your trump card during the Final Battle," he said, almost in awe. "Oh, that is clever. I'm impressed, Michael. Well done."

"I-I cannot take all credit." Michael felt his cheeks redden at Lucifer's praise. "That particular part was actually —"

"Joan." Her name fell from Gabriël's lips with a gasp.

Michael gave him a sad smile and nodded. "She always accused me of not listening to her, but I did. Joan advocated the Nephilim could be used for more than just defending the Mortal Realm. I shut her down that day, but her words clung to me. I realised later she was right; the Nephilim could be used for more because they were more. They are angels, yet also human, and can — in theory — pass the gateway to Hell, avoiding detection long enough to destroy the darkness in its very heart."

"Well, glad to learn we have some wo—ow!" Thomas rubbed the shoulder of his amputated arm after Anne hit him. Her scolding look warned him not to go there, so he quickly changed the topic. "So, um... where is this portal we were supposed to use, anyway?"

"It hides in plain sight for the world to see."

"Hmph, that's specific. At least give us some—"

"The portal wouldn't be an actual pair of gates, right?" interrupted Anne. "Like, say, a sculpture?"

"Anne, what are you talking about?" Thomas scrunched his brows and cocked his head.

"Auguste Rodin. Many of his works are connected to one great work, La Porte de —"

"De L'Enfer," finished Gabriël slowly as he looked at Michael. "The visions... You told me to give Rodin visions of Hell and lead him to La Divina Commedia."

"I am sorry I did not tell you the true purpose of those visions," said Michael. "The fewer people knew of this plan, the better. You were unknowingly part of it, as was Michelangelo. You may recall he was absent for several years, supposedly as a muse for a young artist. I told him he was to help Rodin create his masterpiece by posing as a devoted student. As a precaution, in case the plan was discovered, I asked him to make a cast of Rodin's work, with some minor details that differed from the original, and arrange for these copies to be spread throughout the Mortal Realm. The actual piece remains where it has always been."

"Paris," said Anne. "The Musée d'Orsay."

Michael bowed his head in confirmation.

"Did you ever test the portal?" inquired Gabriël.

"Unfortunately, no." Michael sighed. "I did not trust Samael enough to inform him of the plan and have him test it for us. In retrospect, that was the wisest decision."

Lucifer's jaw clenched at his son's name. Michael fought the urge to take him by the hand.

"Well, there's no time to test it now," said Gabriël. "We'll just have to hope it works."

"And if it does, what then?" questioned Thomas. "We'd still be two Archangels and two Nephilim in the heart of the Circles amidst millions of demons. It's a suicide mission."

Anne gave her husband another admonishing look, lips pursed and eyes slightly narrowed.

"I'm just saying, we go in guns blazing, we'll certainly die," Thomas added quickly. "If something can draw out as many demons as possible, we may die. I personally prefer the 'may' part of those odds."

Michael glanced at Gabriël, who met his gaze. There was truth in what Thomas said, and they both knew it. They had to get the demons to leave Hell, but what would make them —?

"I'll do it."

Everyone turned to Lucifer as he suddenly spoke up.

"I'll draw them out," said the Devil again.

"No, out of the question." Michael shook his head fervently. "I will not permit you to sacrifice yourself like that."

"Michael, Lilith and Samael want me dead. Dangle me in front of them like a cloth to a bull, and they will send every demon after me to ensure I'm destroyed. I'm your best bet."

Michael wanted to object again, but he was silenced when Gabriël lifted his hand. The other Archangel's pensive yet focused expression made Michael tilt his head in curiosity.

"Gabriël? What are you thinking of?"

"I think Lucifer is right; he is our best bet. But not alone. Listen..."

***

Samael looked in mild fascination at the little girl sitting on the cell floor. He had briefly considered taking the child to his private chamber, but why bother to coddle the thing? Mere hours ago, she'd been a baby; now, she was a toddler of perhaps three years old, dressed like a porcelain doll at Lilith's behest.
He wondered if the growth spurt was because of Lilith's ritual, or because of what the child was. He tried to recall if he had grown up so fast as well. Surely he must have. He also tried to remember if he had ever been this... simple.
The girl was playing with a block of wood like it was the most interesting toy in the world. Her tiny hands were all over it as she spun it around. And what was with the incessant babbling? Annoying incoherent noises, not quite words yet, but not baby speech either, with a nod of her small head here and there, like she was having an actual conversation with someone.
Samael knew he shouldn't expect much, but considering who the child's parents were, the girl could have shown some minor form of intelligence. But maybe that was just a common trait with children. Wisdom with years and all that.
All of a sudden, the girl grew quiet. A pair of electric blue eyes peered up at Samael when he looked over again to check if she was still breathing. Her persistent stare caused a chill to wash over him.

"What?" he demanded. "I'm not picking you up if that's what you want."

Samael grew even more uncomfortable as the toddler sat in absolute silence, eyes on him and only him. Finally, he averted, shaking his head at the little creature.

"Hello, Samael."

He froze at the sound of the familiar voice. Slowly, he turned back around and gasped. Before his eyes stood his mentor and the woman who had raised him.

"Azrael?" he whispered. "No, that's not possible. You... You can't be here."

"Because you killed me?"

Azrael lifted her arm, reaching out for him. Samael stood paralysed, afraid to move or speak. When she cupped the perfect angelic half of his face, he shuddered.

"My beautiful boy," she spoke sadly.

Samael recoiled. "I'm not your boy."

"Did I not care for you? Did I not love you and teach you all about what we are and our part in the Lord's design?"

"You taught me to be weak. A lackey. A pawn stuck in an endless loop. But I'm not weak, Azrael. Not anymore. This pawn just became King. And soon, I shall be the most powerful being this universe has ever seen. Even greater than your all-powerful God."

"Hm... What a proud moment that will be for your parents."

"What would you know of them?" Samael drew further back.

"I know they loved you," said Azrael.

"Loved me?" He scoffed at those words. "If they ever even cared for me, they would have stopped at nothing to get me back. They would have sought vengeance on Michael and ripped his beating heart out of his chest."

"Revenge is not always the answer. Your father is learning that lesson right now."

"Do not compare me to that pathetic craven! I have surpassed Lucifer in everything he has ever done and have brought Michael and Gabriël down to their knees! The Circles are mine now! I hold control over Lilith! I hold the true power of Death!"

"Indeed. And you have left a trail of blood and ash in your wake."

The torches in the cell flickered out. When they relit, Azrael was nowhere to be seen. Samael felt something warm sticking to his hands. He raised them, and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of the crimson blood dripping onto an ash-covered floor.
A breeze picked up, and the ash swirled into the air, forming two female figures. Their faces were all too familiar to Samael; he had killed them with a single touch of Death's hand. Azrael stood closer to Joan's child. But just inches away from Samael himself...

"Mother?"

He reached for her with a trembling hand, but the ashen figure of Margaret of Antioch crumbled at his touch. He fell to his knees, hands grabbing and digging through the dirt to capture her essence. When he realised what he was doing, he stiffened. 
How was this possible? How could he still feel like this? He had shut that part of himself away, darkening his soul and heart by taking the lives of the people he believed mattered most to him. But he still felt it. That yearning for someone to hold him with love. That little boy inside who screamed over a crowd of thousands, desperate to be heard.

"It's not too late yet, Samael," said Azrael. "Do not let our sacrifices be in vain. You have our love. Now embrace it."

When Samael lifted his head, she was gone. So was the blood on his hands and the ashes on the floor. All that remained was the little girl on the floor. Her hazel hair had grown darker and longer. Her face appeared sharper, and her body, too, had grown. She had aged another year or two in less than a few minutes. Samael narrowed his eyes at her. It was her. She had summoned Azrael here. But how?

"What are you?" His voice cut through the silence like a knife. "What are you?"

The child tilted her head, staring strangely at him with her big blue eyes.

"I'm the Angel of Death. What are you?"

***

The Devil was gone. Where to, no one knew. And no one cared. The eldest and deadliest beasts rejoiced in seeing their mother return to her glorious purpose. Lilith was, after all, the first to give the Circles life. She was the only ruler for them, so they wondered why she allowed that other one to lay claim as well. That half-breed with the mangled face. That... freak.
He was not a creature of Hell, nor had he come from Lilith's womb. His very name proved he was not one of them. He should have no right to rule over them or their domain. He should not even bask in their mother's magnificent presence. So, he had to be removed from the equation.
But the Angel of Death foresaw this. Every damned soul in the Circles, every spectre and demon who gave in to the darkness and inflicted pain and torture themselves, rose in his defence. He had swayed them all to swear loyalty to him when he led them to their doom, promising their suffering would end one day.

And as the creatures of Hell stood opposite each other, so to did the new King and Queen. Though they had planned their coup together, their endgame was far from the same. Lilith wanted to rule the Circles as the sole leader. The Angel of Death wanted to rule every world in existence.
But to achieve either, they needed power — power residing in the vessel of a little girl. They were forced to wait until this child grew and surrendered herself willingly to the darkness. So, for the time being, they tolerated each other. They used each other. And they allowed the other to believe they were in control. Until the moment the strings could be seized, and the second puppet master became obsolete. 
Beast fought demon. Demon fought beast. And the fires of Hell roared, rising higher than ever before. They burned all, devouring anything that crossed their path. But death would have been merciful, and the darkness did not allow salvation. Those who fell prey to the flames burned forevermore, slowly and in gruesome agony. Chaos reigned freely in the Circles. And that chaos was exactly what the Devil had been counting on. 

He appeared out of nowhere, emerging through a portal of heavenly light. All around him were stunned. Had he returned to reclaim what was his? Would he drive out the usurpers to lead the Circles once more?
Those who knew the Devil flocked to his side, turning their coat again. Those who feared him dropped to their knees, grovelling for forgiveness. And those who were brave (or stupid) stood fast against him. It did not matter. They all shared the same fate.
The blazing fire of the Devil's sword reflected dangerously against his black dragon-scaled armour as it flashed through the air, cutting down all who were in reach. Enemies, mindless minions, followers... All perished at the touch of Heaven's Fire.

Some threw themselves in their former Master's path, seeking the salvation he brought them. Most backed away when they saw what was happening. They howled and growled, and suddenly, they were no longer facing each other, but a common foe — one foe.
Even if this was the former Prince of Hell, he would not make it out alive. Even if some of them died, plenty of others would remain. They would shred him to pieces, feast on his flesh and bones, and drink his blood to the last drop.
But their mistake was underestimating a man who so readily faced them alone. The Devil waited until he could see the black and red of their eyes. Until he could smell their foul stench. Until their blood-curdling shrieks took over all senses. Then he raised his flaming sword, and the portal of light behind him exploded. The sky above remained black as night, but it was obvious to all they were no longer in the pit of the Circles. They were no longer in Hell, for there was no grass in Hell. No sand, no trees... and no angels.

The warriors of the Lord had been waiting on the plains of Megiddo, patiently but anxiously, putting all their faith in the one who had been their enemy for so long. After centuries of preparing and dreading this day, it had at long last arrived.
Only one side could be victorious.
Only one side would find itself saved by a deliverer.