The floor lay scattered with arrow shafts. Some broken, some shattered to pieces. None had hit their target. Neither had the mage's spells, his little sword, or the Boleyn whore's dagger. Whatever they tried, they could not touch him. They grew ever more frantic. How Cesare revelled in it.
Seeing his adversaries' faces twist in despair as they realised they couldn't beat him had been worth it. The agony he endured in receiving these powers had been worse than anything the Circles ever put him through. But the pain had been fleeting. This right here, right now, this was the feeling he would hold on to for eternity.
Cesare saw Wyatt prepared to cast another spell. He grinned and flicked his wrist. The mage was hurled backwards. His wife's scream was the most beautiful sound Cesare had ever heard. He laughed triumphantly.

"Give it up! You are no match for me."

Any man would've cowered at the deadly glare Anne Boleyn threw at him. But Cesare wasn't any man. Not anymore. For he was evolved. He was superior. He was... supreme.
The woman kicked up her husband's sword and lunged at him with a furious cry. Cesare smirked and indulged her in her feeble attack by conjuring a sword into his hand. The blades met again and again. They moved as if engaging in a complex dance where they fought for dominance and victory. But neither Cesare nor Boleyn intended to give in that quickly. They attacked and parried and attacked again, looking for that one chance, that one opening that would secure the upper hand.

"ANNE, NOW!"

Before Cesare realised what was happening, his opponent drew away, executing a perfect backward flip in which she kicked him hard in the chin. Cesare cursed loudly and shook his head against the sting. A sharp whistle resonated, and then...

***

Lucifer froze when he saw what had happened to the dungeons beneath the palace. Of all the scenarios he had been playing out in his head, this was one of the worst.

"That little bitch!"

"What is it?" Michael came to stand beside him.

"Lilith created a labyrinth of illusions. Nothing you see here is real, even though your senses perceive it as such. It's the perfect trap. And if Gabriël and the Nephilim separated to cover more ground, they'll never find each other again. She'll have led them to a specific location where they'll be taken captive or killed."

Michael looked closely at the cells and stairs in front of him and asked, "How do we get through?"

"We don't. I need to dismantle the illusions from the outside. But it won't be easy."

Lucifer felt Michael's hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to meet the Archangel's soft gaze.

"You can do this," said Michael. "Do what you have to do. I will keep you safe."

Lucifer stared at him, shook by his confidence. He didn't know what to make of it. He had hurt this man. Tortured him. Exposed his secrets and brought him down to nothing. Yet here he stood, as if none of that mattered. 
Taking the words spoken in encouragement and support to heart, Lucifer inhaled deeply, clearing his mind of everything and raised his hands. He called upon the powers of the Circles and began the incantation. At once, he felt the illusion pull at him. It tried to draw him in, to trap him. But Lucifer kept his ground.

Then he heard it — a threatening snarl. It was the sound of a predator hunting down his prey and closing in for the kill. Lucifer knew it all too well. He dared to look at Michael. By his tense expression, he gathered he'd heard it too. His sword was raised, and his eyes searched the room, attempting to find the still invisible monster that prowled around them.
Another snarl echoed, louder this time. A growl, but on the opposite side. Red eyes. One pair. Two pairs. Three more. Too many for the Archangel to handle on his own.

"Keep working on the spell," said Michael.

"No, you can't fend them off by yourself," objected Lucifer.

"I will manage."

"Michael, these are the darkest creatures from Hell, born directly from Lilith's magic and not her womb. Do not underestimate their prowess. They won't stop until there's nothing left of you."

The Archangel threw him a glance over his shoulder. To Lucifer's surprise, he smiled and said, "Have a little faith."

Time stood still. Everything faded away, and then...

***

Lilith stared at the Archangel in disbelief. Had she heard him correctly? Had he actually suggested that they...? No, he couldn't have.

"I think my offer is fair, don't you?" asked Gabriël.

She tried to take a measure of him but couldn't. Not like with Lucifer and Samael. With them, she knew exactly when they spoke the truth and when they lied. Father and son didn't differ that much from each other. But this one... He was different.

"I have nothing left to lose, Lilith. Only my life, and you're literally holding the palm of your hand over my heart. Kill me, and I'll be with Joan again. You'll be doing me a favour. Or don't kill me, and we can both get what we want and walk away with our lives intact."

Gabriël's blue eyes met hers. She began to understand the Archangel's appeal. Those dark ocean eyes were almost as enchanting at the Devil's. 

"Help me defeat Samael," he continued softly but urgently. "You know you can't trust him; he's Lucifer's son. Remember Lucifer? The Archangel that seduced you and got you kicked out of Eden? The whole reason you're down here and that all your children died in the first place? You don't really expect Samael to be any better than his father, do you? He'll take what he wants from you and then get rid of you."

"And you're so much better?" she questioned. "Am I supposed to believe that if I help you kill Samael and return your daughter to you unharmed, you will push aside any want for revenge you feel against me? You'll let bygones be bygones, and we'll meet on neutral ground to fuck until I am pregnant with a child that will probably just die as well? Do not take me for a fool, Gabriël. If your boyfriend doesn't stop you, God certainly will."

"Michael isn't the Lord Protector anymore; I am. There's nothing he'll be able to do against me. And you know God doesn't have any say in the Circles. As for Joan, she probably would have died, anyway. A human body can't give birth to a celestial being. I won't forgive you for what you did, but I don't have to. Our arrangement doesn't have to be more than what it needs. No care, no love, just business. You know it's the most diplomatic solution wherein I control the Vale, you the Circles, and our child is heir to both. No more blood needs to be spilt. And with my daughter as the Angel of Death, our own child will always have an ally in his rule."

The witch paused a moment, musing the matter over. She had to admit that it was the most favourable outcome. One ruler controlling all, not by conquest but by birthright. Taking care of Samael was something she had considered anyhow. The fool had weakened himself by sharing some of the powers the Circles had bestowed on him with the Borgia Bastard, so he would be ripe for the picking. And she supposed Gabriël was right. She had all to win from this; her kingdom, her vengeance, her name in history... and a baby.

"Suppose for argument's sake we strike this deal and I deliver a living baby," said Lilith. "How do I know you'll not just take the child from me when I give birth?"

"I won't," replied Gabriël. "You can keep him here in the Circles. I'd only ask that you let me see him. Let his sister see him too."

Lilith's eyes narrowed. This seemed too good.

"I want something else besides the Circles and a baby," she demanded.

"Name it," said Gabriël.

"If you want my help in killing Samael, I want yours to kill Lucifer."

"Done."

"Just like that?" Lilith arched her brow.

"Joan and I would still be in the Vale if it weren't for Lucifer. Believe me, I want that son of a bitch dead as much as you do."

There. Right there, that was the first thing Gabriël had said that had been God's honest truth. Lilith could clearly tell by the hatred in his eyes from the mere mention of Lucifer's name. As for the rest of it... No, he was lying about that. He had to be. Of course, there was one way to find out.

"Do you know how deals are struck in the Circles?" she asked.

"By force?"

Lilith laughed. "Ha-ha, cute. No, they're struck through... Let's call it an exchange. Not of vows or something silly, but of something more... intimate."

Gabriël's eyes widened at the lingering suggestion. Lilith was certain he was about to show his true colours. He was going to admit his proposal was a ruse, and then she would keep him in her personal prison to —

"Fine. Do you want to do this right here or somewhere private?"

Lilith's smirk dropped. She gaped at the Archangel, shocked that he'd called her bluff.

"You're... You're agreeing?"

"I'm the one who proposed this deal, so obviously, I'm not the one backing down."

But Lilith still had her doubts about this. Gabriël could be her greatest ally or her downfall. She had put her faith in an Archangel before, which cost her everything. Could she really risk it all again?
She lowered herself to him but lingered, prompting Gabriël to lift his head (which was really the only thing he could do) and take charge. When Lilith felt his lips on hers, she pushed off with her hands against his chest. Gabriël groaned in annoyance.

"For God's sake, either be done with me and kill me or accept the deal and fuck me! Just stop wasting my time!"

He wasn't like Lucifer. Nor Samael. They liked to play games of seduction. Gabriël was direct. There was no nonsense with him. Lilith found it... refreshing. And so incredibly arousing.
Any doubt she still felt was gone in an instant. Her nails dug into Gabriël's chest, and she came down again to kiss him. Gabriël opened his mouth to her, and Lilith's tongue grazed over the inside of his lower lip. There was still blood where she had bitten him, which she greedily licked up.
She pushed up on the Archangel's lap, sitting above his manhood, and swayed her hips enticingly. Gabriël grunted at the friction, deep and low.

"You know, this would go a lot better if I weren't glued to the floor," he said as Lilith broke away from his lips to kiss down his throat.

"Hm, nice try."

"How about one arm, then?"

Lilith gave an exasperated sigh. She let her hand trail down Gabriël's right arm, partly releasing the spell she'd placed on him. Having him slightly loosened might move things along.
As soon as the magic dissolved, Gabriël moved his hand to the small of her back, making her shiver. He pressed Lilith down against his chest, and then...

***

The gyrfalcon recognised his mistress' call and flew through the portal to come to her aid. It immediately attacked the demon, clawing, scratching, and wildly flapping its wings. Borgia tried to strike the bird with his sword, but Anne had trained him to dodge any attack.
If there had been time to enjoy the sight of the Borgia Bastard struggling to keep up with a bird, she would have gladly taken it. But if she allowed him even one second to recuperate, they might never get another chance. She looked over at her husband and saw Thomas on one knee, straining to summon enough magic to finish this. She hurried over to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Together."

Thomas nodded and spoke a little louder so Anne could understand the words. She repeated them carefully and felt the oddest sensation course through her. The magic Thomas wielded pulled at her life force, taking just enough to power the spell. The broken arrows around them quivered. They slowly rose into the air.

"A-Anne, his mark. Do it now."

Anne gave another sharp whistle, and her gyrfalcon dived on Borgia. He cried out when the bird dug its talons into his face. In one violent swoop, Borgia's white eye was torn out, leaving him once again with a fleshy and bloody, empty socket.
The Boleyn Queen did not hesitate. She shot toward her foe, Thomas' sword in both hands, and slashed his chest open, cutting right through the mark. Overcome by pain and rage, Borgia raised his hand, intending to use his dark powers on Anne, but nothing happened. He tried again, but to no avail. His remaining eye widened in horror.

"What have you done? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

It was only then Borgia saw the arrows pointed at him. Broken tips and fragments, all aflame in a white fire that only an extremely powerful Nephilim mage could summon. With the last of his strength, Thomas made them spin, and the projectiles catapulted toward the demon. Anne's dark brown hair danced as they whooshed past her, speeding faster than bullets from a shotgun. A soft plopping noise resounded when they perforated Borgia's body. He gasped, dropping to his knees as the fire consumed him from within.
Anne stepped toward him. Borgia strained to raise his head and met her dark eyes. All she saw within his own was a certain sadness. She heard the faintest whisper of a name. But Anne didn't care about the person the Borgia Bastard thought about. She cared about her own. Those he had killed. Those who had been killed because of him.
With the precision and skill that rivalled the executioner of Calais, Anne Boleyn cut off Cesare Borgia's head. His body thudded to the ground as his head rolled away, halting face down in the dirt. Blood spilt over the stones to where Anne stood. It splashed up as the sword fell out of her hand.

It's over... It's really over...

Anne sighed in relief and allowed herself to smile. She turned to her husband, wanting to see the look on his face. But she found him lying on the ground, all colour drained from his skin and his eyes closed.

"Thomas!"

She rushed toward him and knelt at his side, taking him in her arms. The prosthetic Da Vinci made for him was burned away. The spell had taken too much out of him. Anne carefully caressed Thomas' hair and face, and his eyelids fluttered.

"A-Anne," he uttered her name weakly.

"Ssh, save your strength," Anne shushed him lovingly and placed her hand on his chest.

"I... I don't think y-you'll be stuck with me... for much longer," breathed Thomas.

"Don't you dare say that. Don't you abandon me now, Thomas Wyatt. I forbid it."

The corner of his mouth went up in a smile. "F-Forgive me... my... my Queen."

His eyes closed. Anne felt his heartbeat slow.

"Thomas, no! Thomas!" She leaned against him, her tears falling onto his face. "Don't die, please. Qu'est-ce que je ferais sans toi?"

Then, all of a sudden, white light illuminated the room. Anne raised her head, expecting to find another demon, or worse. Instead, she saw a six-winged female figure.

"My God..."

The light exploded, and Anne lowered her head, clutching her husband. She was wrapped in a warm, comforting blanket and felt her body soar. A cacophony of excited voices suddenly resounded around, and she dared open her eyes. She gasped when she realised she was back in the Vale.

"Wha-What just —?"

Anne nearly screamed in surprise when Thomas woke up with a startling gasp, struggling for breath. He grabbed her arm, looking wildly around him. 

"It's okay!" Anne quickly pressed him to her. "Thomas, it's okay, you're all right! You're safe. We're back in the Vale. It's okay."

"Wha—Where...? Anne, what happened? How did we get here?"

"I-I don't know. I saw... At least, I think it was..."

But it couldn't have been her. Could it?

***

Razor-sharp teeth sank into Michael's shoulder. He stumbled backwards with the giant black beast on top of him, crying out in pain. The Hellhound had gone for his sword-arm, so Michael was forced to drop his weapon. Fortunately, it wasn't the only blade he carried. He drew the dagger from his belt and drove it through the animal's side. Its jaws clenched shut on his shoulder, leaving Michael no choice but to move the blade up, slicing the hound open.
Blood, guts and the remains of its last victim spilt out. Michael nearly hurled at the smell. The Hellhound dropped dead on its side, and he wriggled away from it. But the Archangel only had a brief respite. The next Hellhound was already storming at him, teeth bared and eyes blazing red.

"In Dei nomine, ego voco super Ignem Caeli!"

Michael recognised his own sword as it lit up with Heaven's Fire and struck the Hellhound, setting the beast aflame. It howled and cried, writhing in agony as the flames consumed the beast. The Devil offered Michael a hand, giving him back his weapon once he was on his feet.

"I thought I told you to continue the spell?" 

"So I shall leave you to the Hellhounds next time, then?"

Michael couldn't help but grin as Lucifer used his own words against him. The growls in the dark reverberated through the room again, and both men turned to stand back-to-back.

"I warned you not to underestimate them," said Lucifer. "We have to take care of them before I can continue the spell."

"I am open to suggestions," said Michael.

"I've already called her; she should be here any second."

"Her?"

A harrowing howl sounded through the dungeon. The hairs on Michael's neck raised as an icy wave stilled his heart. He turned toward the sound as a large Hellhound appeared from the shadows. It was the most terrifying creature he had ever seen.

"Your idea of taking care of three Hellhounds is by summoning a fourth?" 

"Their Alpha," said Lucifer. "And if I am correct, Messalina is still loyal to me."

"Messalina? How did —?"

"Michael, watch out!"

Lucifer grabbed Michael by his un-injured shoulder to push him behind him when a Hellhound jumped to attack. Michael meant to pull him right back, but the beast was already on the ground, struck by Messalina.
She barked ferociously at the others. They snarled back. Their bodies trembled as if unsure whose command to follow. Messalina growled again, and for a moment, it seemed she had them subdued. Then, the Hellhound on the ground snapped at her hind leg, and the internal struggle in the others was broken. They attacked.
Michael watched the whirlwind of rugged fur, glistening teeth, and bloodied claws in horrid fascination. Messalina fought savagely, but the other Hellhounds jumped on her back and bit at her throat. She yelped in pain and rage. Lucifer started running to the wild pack, but Michael hastily grabbed his wrist to stop him.

"No, wait!"

"Michael, what the hell are you —?"

The white flash Michael had been expecting flared through the dungeon, burning away the darkness. He pushed Lucifer's head down.

"Close your eyes! Do not look at the light!"

The warm blaze tingled at Michael's skin. He heard Lucifer's scream and tightened his hold, feeling the Devil's rapid heartbeat like it was his own. Michael peered through his eyelashes and saw the ghastly monstrous forms of three Hellhounds frozen in the light. Their fur caught fire, their bloodshot eyes popped, and their skin melted away until nothing was left but a charred skeleton. And in the middle of such death and mayhem lay absolute beauty.
Messalina, the angel who left the Vale after Lucifer fell, was Hellhound no more. Black fur turned to honey skin and sandy curls. Her healed body bore no remnants of the life she had led for the past seventeen centuries. She was born again.
Michael gazed into the light. He felt Lucifer move in his arms but did not release him yet. The figure in the light lingered a moment and then moved away from the pair. Only when the dungeon was completely dark again did Michael let go of Lucifer. The Devil pushed himself away and looked about him. His body stiffened when he found the naked female angel on the ground.

"Messalina..."

Lucifer ran to her, falling to his knees at her side. He took Messalina in his arms and conjured a blanket to cover her body. He muttered reassuring words to the unconscious figure before turning his head to Michael.

"Tell me that was not what I think it was. Tell me that wasn't —"

"A Seraph."

"Dear Lord... But who?"

"Can you not guess?"

Lucifer shook his head. Then his brow furrowed. His eyes widened. 

"That son of a bitch. He wanted her to fall!"

"Maybe," said Michael. "Yet, I like to believe providence let her to this path. Either way, she is His Guardian now. And she will rain down His wrath on all who stand against us."

***

The magic keeping Gabriël pinned lulled, and he pushed Lilith's convulsing body off him. He crawled up and spat on the floor to get the taste of Lilith's kiss out of his mouth. There wouldn't be enough showers and baths to wash away what he had been forced to do. He shuddered at the thought of how far it could've gone if she hadn't freed his arm. It had allowed him to prevent her from moving away so he could say the words.

"Lucifer was right," sneered Gabriël. "You are easy to fool."

When they drew up their plans, Gabriël had asked Lucifer if he knew of any weakness he could utilise against Lilith, certain that she would lure him into a trap the moment he set foot in the Circles. The Devil told him how he had stolen away the baby and about his brief affair with her (Michael had looked very uncomfortable during that part). Lilith had several weaknesses; her desire to be sole ruler over the Circles, her desperation to give birth to a normal child, and a thirst for vengeance on a particular individual. Gabriël had exploited all, offering himself as bait.
But the amount of blood Lilith took from him was not enough to kill her. Gabriël searched for his sword, finding it on the other side of the alcove, where Lilith had so carelessly tossed it, and jumped toward it. His fingers closed around the hilt and...

"You conniving bastard!"

Too late. Gabriël was pulled down on his knees. The blade in his hand glowed and heated until it became unbearable to hold. It clattered to the ground, masking the soft tread of Lilith's footsteps as she stalked toward him.

"The things I plan to do to Lucifer are child's play compared to what I will do to you, Gabriël. I will make sure you suffer until you beg me to kill you. And as for your daughter..." Gabriël grunted as Lilith pulled his head back by his hair. "I will enjoy carving her into little pieces and feeding her to my Hellhounds. They've never tasted something so delicious. Oh, but don't worry; you get to watch. You have to watch. Because only then will you grasp what you did here today. Her blood, and that of every angel and Archangel in the Vale, will stick to your hands. And I will own you, Archangel. Every. Single. Part. Of —"

A blazing white light erupted into the alcove. Lilith's grip waver as it engulfed them. Gabriël broke free and rolled away. Once he was safe, he gazed up at the light. A creature with six golden wings, beautiful and absolutely radiant, held Lilith up by her throat with one hand. The demon witch struggled and kicked, but nothing could save her from her fate. Gabriël heard the creature speak in the ancient language of the angels, and he narrowed his eyes against the light as he recognised the voice. They widened again when he saw what happened next.
Lilith's skin withered. Her crimson hair turned grey, falling out until nothing was left but a shrivelled bald head, and her ruby eyes glazed over, whitening until she was blind. Her girly voice, shouting in horror and crying for mercy, turned into a cackle until she was silenced. When the creature finally let go, Lilith's body crumbled into dust. The Queen of Hell was gone — for good.

Gabriël stared in awe at his six-winged saviour. The white glow about her faded, sticking to her golden-bodice garb, and he began to see her features. Her brown hair pinned up with a golden clasp. Her strong and feminine figure. And those beautiful brown eyes. He knew those eyes.

"Joan?"