I hurried to the train station and bought two tickets. Was Penance real? Even if it was, could we reach it in time? I half-slept upon a wooden bench at the boarding platform, huddled beneath my overcoat. My eyes closed, but my mind wandered, every noise and footstep a jolting start. Sunrise soon peered over the rolling cityscape, muted blue among the shadows.

The click of feminine heels struck my ears. I sat up, squinting. Annabel's silhouette drifted toward me, dawn blazing at her back. A single bag hung over her shoulder, notebooks and paper crushed into the side pouches.

The train arrived with a hiss and screech.

I showed her the tickets. "One-way trip for two, thirty hours to the end of the line. I had just enough for a first-class booth. We'll run away in style."

She grinned and took my arm. "It'll be an adventure. Let's go."

The engine hummed, streamlined steel sweeping toward the sturdy cars in tow. We boarded quickly and settled into our private compartment. After a full day's ride, the city surrendered to countryside and the landscape billowed before snowy peaks. That evening, we enjoyed a humble supper in the dining car and retired to our booth soon after.

Annabel sat beside me on the bunk, her bobbed hair awry.

"Do you regret leaving?" I asked, stroking her cheek.

"I miss Fidelius, but there's nothing else for me in Hosanna." She kissed me. "Sing to me, Tristan. Your music makes everything better."

She laid her head on my shoulder. Without my harp, my voice keened to the rhythm of the train.

"Hold me," she whispered.

Hours melted into soft skin and sweat, and we fell asleep in each other's arms. Sometime before dawn, the clack of the train ceased. Dreams arose. Chromatic threads and virtual breezes promised bliss, childish laughter teasing my mind.

I sat upright and gripped Annabel's bare shoulder.

She woke with a gasp, clutching the covers.

"The train's stopped," I said.

Along the roof of the coach, something scurried like vermin through decaying walls.

"Wait here." I rose from the bunk, tying my robe. So cold. I cracked the door open, hinges moaning. The cramped aisle was dark and empty, the floorboards like ice slabs beneath my toes. Where was the coach attendant? His chair was empty, spindly against the light angling through the adjacent portal.

More noises scraped outside.

I halted, heart pounding. "Is anyone there?"

No answer. I took a step closer.

Angelic trumpets bellowed, shaking the windows and frame of the train car. I cried out and covered my ears.

Annabel rushed into the corridor, wrapped in blankets. "Did you hear that?"

"The angels are here." I grabbed her hand. "We have to go."

"And go where? They're everywhere." She sank against the wall, tears spilling from enormous eyes.

I laid a firm hand on her shoulder. "Don't give up. We'll make a run for it. Get dressed."

We shoved what we could into our bags. Hands locked, we hurried toward the rear exit.

A pistol clicked. Two men emerged from the shadows, weapons brandished. "Stop right there," one of them said.

More footsteps approached down the aisle.

"There's nowhere to hide. The Seraphim have chosen you." Pastor Lee smiled, two more of his armed lackeys pacing behind.

I lunged at him, despite the guns. The nearest assailant seized me in a choke hold, and the cold steel of a gun bit my skull. Another grabbed Annabel by the arms.

"Take me," I said, "but let her go."

Pastor Lee shook his head. "You've both violated the Righteous Code, and denied the Seraphim. Your only hope is repentance."

They dragged us outside, into the frigid morning. A convoy of sleek motorcars idled on the track, blocking the train.

Annabel twisted free of their grasp, and stumbled over snowy gravel.

The trumpets blared again, a nauseating din. Even Pastor Lee and his comrades cringed at the sound.

"The angels come for you, Mr. Herald," Pastor Lee said. "They're angry that you've forsaken them. If you surrender now, I'll mediate on your behalf. Then we can all go home, and put this little debacle behind us."

The wind tossed snowflakes into a frenzied spin around us. All of the men watched the sky, weapons ready.

"Are you sure you can talk them out of it, boss?" one man asked, with a frightened expression.

Pastor Lee grinned. "You of little faith. Watch and see who is truly favored by the Seraphim." He closed his eyes and prayed aloud, arms raised high. "Blessed guardians, saviors of all. Come, and bless us with your mercy."

Lightning in a blizzard was a sight nature never intended. Seven bolts of radiant white struck the earth. Icy ground broke and scattered at the impact of the tall, shining bodies.

Annabel ran to me.

I hugged her, shielding her.

The Archangels stood in unison and trapped us in a circle. Each wore a helmet bedecked with swooped arcs and fins, their true features concealed behind sculptured facades. I beheld the trumpets for the first time, long brass instruments cradled in elegant fingers. Celestial spears and swords glistened alongside.

"Holy Ones, we return these lost sheep to your fold. Forgive them their trespasses." Pastor Lee's voice quavered. Was he cold, or did he also fear them?

The Archangels ignored him. We were far from the range of the Sanctum, yet somehow they carried it with them. They conversed with sharp nods and gestures, bird-like, yet graceful. A collective declaration murmured through my mind, revealing their unchanged intent.

"Mine."

One of the angels darted into our midst, gliding with otherworldly speed. Its silver mask resembled a human skull, bared teeth and sockets agleam. A curved tier of segmented chrome arced around its helm, long white hair spilling to its narrow waist.

"Azrael." Pastor Lee bowed. "Have mercy on these children."

The Archangel of Death. I knew its name from a lifetime of teachings and stories and also knew its dreaded purpose. It pointed at Annabel, and she gasped, her neck arching back. She collapsed to her knees, compelled by an unseen force.

I struggled to reach her, but the angels crossed their spears in my path.

The Archangel Azrael lifted its mask, exposing stiff aquiline features. Its eyes and mouth were shut, resembling slumber--or death.

I clawed at their unearthly strength, their battering wings. My voice collided in vain with their will. "Let her go."

All were paralyzed with horror, or captive to the impossible grip of the Seraphim.

Azrael's hooded lids opened. Blinding light blazed from its eyes and mouth, piercing as noon.

Pastor Lee wailed. "No, Annabel!"

They restrained him with a sword against his chest.

Annabel settled into reluctant prayer, driven like a helpless doll by Azrael's power. Her head bowed, hands clasped before her in worship. A bone-rumbling hum shook the ground, the sky, and all flesh.

Azrael raised its six immense wings. The silver threads in its hair coiled about her skull like crackling spiderwebs, stabbing into her body. A strange glow pulsed beneath her skin, veining from her 'face implant to the angel's ecstatic form. Between Azrael's outstretched palms, snowflakes whirled into a flurry.

Blood tears of stigmata poured down Annabel's cheeks.

I strained against the angels' vise-like hands. "I'll do anything you want. Please, don't take her."

Archangel Azrael blew a kiss. A frosted cloud enveloped her and formed a sparkling layer of ice around her. She twitched a moment, then was still, frozen in perfect devotion.

Azrael closed its eyes, and put its mask on, dousing its glory once more. It caressed her face, then snapped its head toward me.

The angels released Pastor Lee. He fell to his knees, then scurried across the snow on all fours to his sister, throwing his arms around her corpse. "Damn you to the depths, Tristan Herald. If you hadn't stolen her, she'd still live."

"You dare to blame me for this? You treated her as your property, with no more regard than a prized show horse." I rushed at Pastor Lee with my fist raised.

All seven Archangels swooped onto me. I spat at them, fighting them in vain.

"Get her out of here," Pastor Lee shouted to his men.

They obeyed, carrying Annabel to their cars.

"It's all your fault." The Pastor's voice wavered with a sob. "You destroyed her, and I'll destroy you. The angels won't protect you."

His rant fell to silence, muffled by soft white feathers and tumbling snow. The Seraphim lifted me into the winter sky. Stars floated past, and I sank into a sleepy haze. Was I in the Sanctum or a dream? Did it even matter anymore?

A familiar voice echoed in my head.

"Awake, the stars do fade.

"Dream no more, child of the between,

"Of dusk and dawn, and shores unseen;

"Though hearts lie still, and flesh decayed,

"Behold the life which love hath made."

"Annabel? How is this possible?"

She stepped out of a blur of information filaments, dressed in a sheer white gown. Pale light glistened around her. "Did you think I was dead? No. My body's gone, but I'm well and alive in the Sanctum. I understand everything, now. The Archangels want to help us." She twined her fingers around my avatar's neck. "We'll change everything with my words and your music. None will stand against us, and we can enjoy every pleasure and happiness in the Sanctum. Things are better here. Never hungry, never lonely. All is beauty and light."

She kissed me. The same azure eyes captured mine, her skin warm. She even had the same cowlick, one lock always curling about her right ear. I stroked her cheek, soft as it had been in life.

"Is it really you?" My throat tightened.

"It's all true," she said. "Eternal life is ours. My words are my strength, and I can still create them within the Sanctum. Your physical body is necessary to convey your music, and to bridge our work with the angels. Mine was not."

Interference jarred the parameters of the Sanctum. Annabel's face smudged like static through a telescreen. I reached for her avatar, but the shining images faded around me. Everything collapsed to a point, and I opened my waking eyes.

Where was I? Columns of silver-filigreed marble rose toward an open skylight, specks of crystalline down drifting through the air. High above me, the familiar monument to the Seraphim glittered in pale morning light. The Temple. No mortal had ever set foot in these sacred halls. The angels had carried me all the way back to Hosanna.

I sat up, my vision adjusting to splendor. A stone altar supported me in the center of a radiant courtyard, too beautiful for words. The seven Archangels knelt about me in a circle, with rings of lesser Seraphs surrounding them. So many, crowding to the far walls, their masked faces watched me. Never moving, never blinking. Archangel Jophiel handed me a fantastic harp, its frame a reflective metal like the kind from Annabel's cove. The decorative effigy of an angel adorned the neck, its wings unfurled in rows of perfect symmetry. Tendrils of light shimmered along the strings.

I flung it to the ground in a clatter. "I don't want your damn harp or your so-called 'favor'. I want her back. Alive, and in my arms. Am I just to sing her poetry, and make hymns in your honor, until all of your worshipers praise along? I never believed you were so cruel."

"Be at peace, darling." Annabel spoke from the Sanctum, her voice soothing. "The angels watch over us. In exchange for their protection, we honor them, and this honor sustains them. A small price to pay for happiness and immortality."

"No. Please, not this." I tried to run, but the angels lunged, pinning me down. Archangel Jophiel bent over me, and placed something cold around my skull. The world went black once again.