As hastily as he’d emerged, he vaporized, disappearing back into the blackness, leaving her there alone. She walked backward, passing back through the sixth gate, blackness overtaking her vision as she was sucked into a swirling cyclone. She flew into the air, landing right back on her feet just inside the doorway of the forsaken asylum.

She shuddered. Creepy.

"You did what?"

A crack of abrupt thunder rocked the afternoon sky. Serah flinched at the noise and tensed. Oh God, not again. "Please tell me that was you."

"Sorry," Hannah muttered. "Didn't mean to startle you. I just . . . I'm shocked."

Serah sighed as she casually twisted and swayed on the middle swing. The schoolyard was vacant, the kids home for the weekend. Raindrops started to fall as clouds emerged directly above them, a consequence of Hannah's abrupt reaction.

Hannah plopped down on the swing beside her after a moment. "So what was it like down below?"

"Surreal," she replied. "I've been trying to wrap my mind around it since I left. It's strangely quiet. Very unnerving."

"And you saw him? Like, really saw him?"

"Yes."

"What was he like?"

What was he like? "Maddening."

"Wow," Hannah said. "So are you going back down?"

"I suppose," she replied. "Michael says it won't work, but I have to try."

"Of course it won't work. We're supposed to believe he'll end it just because you ask? Yeah, right. There's not a compassionate bone left in his body. Every ounce of him was claimed by evil when he fell from Grace."

"The Dominion said it was His will."

Hannah was quiet as she took that in. His will, His word, was everything. "Since when do we negotiate with terrorists? I thought we were on board with that Ronald Reagan guy."

Serah cracked a smile at that. "You're a few decades behind on American politics."

"Huh. Did he win?"

"Yes. Twice."

"Good to know," Hannah said. "I'm not sure you'll be that successful, though."

Serah smiled sadly. She was probably right, of course. "I wonder what Samuel would think about it all."

"Well, first of all, he'd whine that it wasn't him. You know he loved being front and center in this war."

"True."

"Then he'd tease you about it. You know, going to Hell." Hannah dropped her voice lower, imitating the familiar, male tone. "I always knew I was the good one, sis."

Serah laughed, although sadness nagged at her chest. How she longed to hear his voice again.

"But then, while you were down there and nobody was paying attention, he'd be frantically pacing, probably here in this playground, waiting for you to return, to make sure you were okay. He always did worry about you."

Serah frowned. "I worry about him now."

"Don't," Hannah said. "He's gone."

"Gone where?"

Hannah shrugged. "We don't ask questions when they fall, Serah. You know that. We just say goodbye and walk away."

The terrain was quiet once more as Serah approached the seventh gate a few days later. The peculiar reddish-tinted darkness again shrouded the sky as reapers soared above, supervising. Nothing had changed since her last visit, and she guessed nothing ever would. Hell was as stagnant as the dead inside of it.

She paused a few yards away and sighed. Before she could call out, a gust of wind swirled around her. Her wings rustled, shimmering, as she was lifted a few feet off the ground.

"You smell like the sun."

Once back on solid ground, Serah peered through the translucent barricade as Lucifer materialized on the other side. "Do I?"

"Yes. You smell like springtime. Now that’s a scent I miss. The other one? I can do without ever smelling him again."

He sauntered closer, his shoulders relaxed, his hands casually shoved in the pockets of his black slacks. He seemed at ease. Even his voice oozed a bit of quiet contentment, his demeanor much different than the creature she'd encountered the first day.

Maybe there was hope, after all. Maybe she had a chance.

"I'm here to ask you to stop," she said. "Call an end to the fighting."

"I know why you're here," he said, his gaze so intense it burned through her. "You’re much prettier than the last one they sent."

"I, uh. . ." She was taken aback by the compliment. "If you know why I’m here. . ."

"I don’t want to talk about that."

She stared at him in confusion. "What else is there to talk about?"

"You, angel. Let's talk about you. Tell me why it took you so long to return."

"It's only been a few days. I've been busy."

"Hmmm, but not busy with my brother this time." The corner of his lips curved into a dimpled smirk. "How did that happen, anyway? You're not an Archangel for sure, and you're certainly not one of the Seraphim. I remember every single one of them. But you—I don't remember you at all. Based on the fact that you're here, I'd say you're one of the many warrior angels. Correct?"

She nodded slowly.

"So how'd you capture Michael's attention? No offense, but you Powers are a dime a dozen, God’s little soldiers in the Great War against . . . well . . . me. How'd an Archangel even realize you existed?"