Khorn, still bathing in the lava, saw the angel looking the other way. He remained silent about the call she had just received. The call of warning.

  "Thank you for bringing me here," she said, going deeper into the lava. The lava didn't burn her anymore. It only hurt. Just a bit.

  Khorn stood neck-deep in the molten river that sliced through the volcanic ridge like a slow, living wound. Blackened rock glowed dull orange around her, throwing heat-shimmer distortions into the freezing air.

  Every time a fresh snowflake made the mistake of drifting too close, it died in a hiss of steam. Her skin, once split open with divine fractures that had wept golden fire, was knitting itself back together under this brutal, self-inflicted therapy.

  It was painful to some degree, but it grounded her. Which was good, as it kept her mind from circling back to how close she had come to dying again, really dying, the kind where even gods don't get back up.

  Behind her, boots scraped lightly against scorched basalt. The angel still stood there, as if her words of thanks hadn't reached him at all, still gazing at the horizon. His divinity flickered, controlled, almost polite. He was watching the horizon instead of her back, which she appreciated more than she would ever admit.

  He cleared his throat.

  "He won."

  Khorn didn't turn.

  The lava shifted around her hips as she rolled her shoulders once, letting fresh magma flood into the hairline cracks still visible along her ribs. It stung like salt in an open cut, but she welcomed it anyway.

  "I felt it too," she said.

  A pause.

  "For a mortal-realm engagement," the angel went on, choosing his words like he was stepping through broken glass, "defeating a god-possessed vessel while running on fumes of karma… Lady Uriel was correct. He remains… formidable."

  Khorn exhaled through her nose, slow and deliberate. More proud than she could admit.

  "Stop praising him like he's some distant legend," she muttered. "He was great, and he remains great."

  The angel's jaw tightened. She heard the faint creak of feathers shifting.

  "If he's that great, then why isn't he at the front lines?"

  Silence stretched again, thicker this time. The volcano grumbled somewhere deep beneath them, low and indifferent.

  "He shouldn't be alone," the angel said finally. "Not now. The front lines are destabilizing. We bleed out every cycle in the realm between. Humanity fractures faster each year. If he is truly back, we need him there."

  Khorn closed her eyes.

  Front lines. She had stood on them once. More than once.

  Bodies burning under her hands. Demons climbing over piles of angelic corpses like they were just another kind of rubble. Gods watching from the cracked edges of reality as though the whole thing was theater staged for their amusement. She fought and fought and fought, and when victory was close, when she thought they'd finally turned the tide—

  They lost.

  Not because they were weak.

  Because they were alone.

  "I fought there," she said quietly. "Again. And again. And again."

  Her hands clenched beneath the surface of the lava. Molten stone squeezed between her fingers like thick blood.

  "And I realized something."

  The angel waited. Not interrupting, as she had gained what few could garner: an angel's Respect, his Respect.

  "That battle only has one ending," she said. "Loss."

  His wings twitched, sharp, involuntary. "That is defeatist."

  "It is honest." She turned halfway, just enough for amber eyes to catch the glow of the magma. Soot streaked her face; steam rose from her hair in thin, ghostly strands.

  "You want to win the war against gods and demons? The one still raging in that realm between worlds?" Her voice sharpened, not angry but precise. "Then we don't need just my lord. We need everyone."

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  The angel frowned.

  "We need all of us."

  The words came out quieter than she intended. Almost a confession.

  "Our brothers. Our sisters. All the heralds. Even the ones who betrayed us." Her throat tightened, but she refused to let it show. "And the other immortals. Adam. Eve. Everyone who ever carried a name worth remembering."

  The angel's gaze flicked away toward the horizon again, snowfields stretching into gray-white nothing.

  "That will take time."

  "Yes."

  "We do not have time."

  Her shoulders dropped a fraction. "....I know."

  He stepped closer to the ridge, close enough that the heat made his feathers curl at the edges.

  "If we delay—"

  His sentence died mid-breath. His eyes suddenly unfocused. Khorn felt it instantly. The air shifted, like the fire and the surroundings had changed and doubled.

  The angel stiffened. "…My Lady," he murmured under his breath. A smooth but commanding voice echoed in his mind.

  Khorn narrowed her eyes. "Don't."

  The angel's jaw clenched. "Temporary vessel authority?"

  Khorn's aura flared, brief, warning heat.

  "No. I don't want to listen to that bitch," she said.

  "I will forget that vile comment, and for your information, it will drain my divinity," he said quickly, as though bargaining with someone only he could hear. "I will be compromised for days."

  Silence answered him, silence only he could hear.

  His wings folded inward slowly, reluctantly.

  "You are asking for a full override," he whispered.

  Khorn stepped out of the lava. Molten stone slid from her legs in slow, viscous sheets, hissing and blackening as it hit solid ground. Steam exploded upward in violent clouds.

  "I said no," she said.

  The angel's voice trembled, just once.

  "My Lady… this is ill-advised…"

  Then his spine arched.

  Light erupted outward in a controlled pulse, not blinding and explosive but simply authoritative. His white feathers shifted tone, glowing brighter. Heavier. His aura deepened from soft silver to something denser, warmer, older, burning with another type of flame.

  His eyes opened. Gold. Not Aron's gold.

  Different and Ancient. Khorn crossed her arms immediately. "Don't look at me like that," she snapped. "Only my lord has that right."

  The golden gaze shifted downward briefly, then amusement flickered behind it, faint and familiar.

  "Still as blunt as ever," the new voice said. Calm, Feminine and Steady. "It has been some time, Khorn."

  Khorn's jaw tightened until she felt the muscles jump. "..Uriel."

  "Lady Uriel," the possessed angel corrected mildly.

  Khorn scoffed.

  "State your emergency and leave," she said as Uriel stepped forward, no theatrics, no radiant halo, no display. Just the volcano's glow reflecting in borrowed eyes.

  "Where is Aron?" Uriel asked.

  Khorn didn't hesitate. Looking the other way, her ears tired from listening to that voice. "Busy."

  "With what."

  "Our mission."

  "Which is…"

  "One of ours.... is imprisoned."

  Uriel's expression shifted, just a flicker. "Peter," she said, as she finally understood why one of her agents was not picking up his phone. Uriel had many questions, but she knew Khorn wouldn't answer.

  Even now she stayed, saying nothing.

  Uriel inhaled slowly through the vessel's lungs. "I sent him." The words landed heavier than any divine decree ever could. " Thought he wouldn't be a burden..."

  Khorn's fingers curled. She already knew that information, but she acted surprised, disappointed even.

  "Explain."

  "Peter had proximity access," Uriel said. "He was Eve's small herald, but it seems he has taken a side and paid the price already. But I won't mind my Aron taking him."

  The word "my" echoed in Khorn's ears, charging her with sudden fire. "…Yours?"

  Uriel did not answer immediately. Khorn stepped closer, close enough that the heat rolling off her made the angel's borrowed skin flush.

  "He nearly died," Khorn said.

  "I am aware."

  "James almost died."

  "I am aware."

  Khorn's aura flared hotter, orange light licking across the basalt.

  "And you still call him 'yours'?"

  Uriel's eyes did not waver. A hint of a smile budded at the edge of her borrowed lips.

  "What I say doesn't matter. What matters is that the demons withdrew," she said calmly. "The gods paused. Their surveillance shifted. That does not happen without cause."

  Khorn's breathing steadied, as this was new info for her. The relentless war that thrived on slow panic and chaos had just slowed down? As she finally realized what Uriel was trying to say.

  "You mean, becaus—"

  "Yes! Because Aron returned."

  The volcano rumbled softly beneath their feet, almost in agreement.

  "The balance shifted," Uriel continued. "Toward us. After decades, Khorn, decades. Our grumbling loss just shifted. Because of Aron." She said it like the word Aron belonged to her and her only.

  Khorn's lips pressed thin.

  "Don't."

  "Toward us."

  "Don't say that like you own him."

  Uriel tilted her head slightly.

  "My Aron—"

  Khorn's fire erupted upward in a sudden, controlled pillar.

  "Don't!"

  The air warped with heat.

  "He is not yours," Khorn said through her teeth. "He belongs to his heralds. To his family. Not to white-feathered observers who watch from above and call it strategy."

  Uriel did not rise to the bait.

  "This is not about possession," she said. "It is about survival khorn. Why won't you ever understand?!"

  "You called him 'your Aron.'"

  "And you called him 'my lord.'" Uriel's voice remained even. "Different words. Same attachment."

  Khorn's aura wavered, just for a second.

  "Don't twist this."

  "I am not. Never have. You already know I always say what's right, what's true."

  They stared at one another, volcanic fire against borrowed heaven.

  "We both need him," Uriel said quietly.

  Khorn hesitated.

  "We both rely on him," she continued. "And if he falls again, humanity falls with him. We... fall with him."

  Khorn's gaze shifted toward the snow-covered horizon—toward Greenland, toward whatever was left of the battlefield.

  "He won't fall. He never has."

  "Don't play coy with me. You already know, I already know. He will eventually with his low ka…" She didn't finish the word, knowing it would only cause more problems.

  Khorn said nothing.

  Uriel stepped closer. "You know what… I am coming."

  Khorn snapped her eyes back. "What! No!"

  "It will take time. The veil remains thick."

  "No."

  "I will arrive soon."

  "Don't."

  But Uriel was already withdrawing, her voice echoing. "Let's meet soon, Khorn."

  The golden hue dimmed. The weight lifted from the air. The wings loosened; feathers drooped slightly like they'd been carrying too much for too long. The angel staggered. Khorn caught him by the collar before he could tip forward into the lava shelf.

  His normal silver gaze returned slowly, clouded with exhaustion. As Khorn released his collar. "Fuucckkk!!"