Morgan opened her own eyes to blood everywhere. Her ears rang. Her room was wrecked. Her brother lay next to her, with empty eyes and surprise on his face.

The injured cthulian crawled over to Raf. It reached a tentacle into his ear and pulled out a bizarre wiggling thing. Nustling it tenderly, the cthulian then crawled sideways to the balcony and jumped over the ledge.

Morgan was in shock, too dazed to do anything but watch.

Then she was alone, staring into her brother's dead eyes. She sobbed. Finally, she reached over and shut his lids, resting her hand on his face, his sweet face.

He saved her. Somehow. Azazel was gone.

There was nothing left to do but rise and think.

What will she do? She wasn't free, not really.

There was nowhere to run. Adam and Milo would come for her. And Lyn!

Lyn was downstairs locked in her room! And Gramma Henri! What would become of them now?

There was nowhere to run.

She had to lie. Yes, that was it. Rowan taught her to lie. She would marry Milo and hide in plain sight.

But what about Raf and the state of her room? Soon her handmaiden Brigit would be in to wake Morgan and help start her day. Morgan needed a damn good explanation before sunrise.

She tried to think and plan, but she was still in shock.

A knock on the door brought her back to reality. The sky was already a mess of pinks and blues. Another knock on the door. She sluggishly picked herself up.

The door opened, and Milo Meiori let himself in, first looking petulant, then bewildered. His jaw dropped as he took in the bloody scene.

Rage exploded in Morgan at the sight of Milo, but she took a slow breath and did her best Azazel impersonation.

"Rafael is dead. Send in cleaners to take care of… this."

Milo blinked indignantly and shuffled his feet. "Well. I came to inform you Henrietta was suffocated last night while she slept. I won't have you torturing that poor old woman. Thankfully, she didn't live to see this ghastly sight."

Morgan could barely understand the words Milo said. He had Gramma Henri killed? He… She…

Morgan's heartbeat pounded in her ears. She reached inside herself to that strange place Azazel opened when it cast hard light, and Morgan summoned radiant spears to surround Milo Meiori and impale him in rapid succession. He gasped and coughed blood as the spears carried him across the room so Morgan could watch him die. Then she threw his body over the balcony, not unlike when Azazel threw Raf...

Morgan woke up in a warm bath. She didn't even remember falling asleep. Brigit was brushing Morgan's hair and saying something from far away.

What will Morgan do?

What will Adam do when he finds out? If he finds out…

What will she tell him?

Morgan was supposed to marry Milo in a few days. What day was today?

She was standing. Brigit was drying her off, then she helped Morgan into clothes. A dark dress and veil for modesty and grief. No jewelry. Easy shoes.

A familiar voice broke through the spell Morgan was under.

"Thank you, Brigit. Please alert Moondial's groundskeepers and have them wait outside."

"Yes, Captain."

Morgan looked up to see Reynard, Rowan's disguise. Captain Reynard was the face that trained Morgan to fight and survive.

But that's impossible. Rowan was dead. Could they truly have survived a spear to the chest?

Morgan tore the veil off her face. The spacious bathroom came into focus.

"Are you real?"

After Brigit shut the door behind her, Rowan dropped the disguise and reverted to their firefox form, lithe, deadly, and familiar.

"It's me, Mo-mo. It's me."

Morgan stumbled and ran to embrace them and sob.

"I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry."

"No, I'm sorry! I didn't know about the fallen. I shouldn't have left you."

"What happened? How are you alive? I stabbed you."

"Thanks to my new friends here, who you've met."

Two figures stepped out of the shadows. One was dark and ageless and floating in a pillar of hard shadows. Morgan recalled painfully.

The other was androgynous, young, and devastated, their face soaked with tears.

Morgan examined the sad one, sensing a kinship. "Did you know Rafael?" she asked plainly.

The sad one hiccuped and nodded. "I fished him out of the Snare two mornings ago. That set me on a path bringing me here."

Morgan blinked and whispered, "You saved him? After the fall, it was you."

She rushed to embrace the chainfisher that saved her brother, who freed Morgan from endless torment.

"Who are you?" Morgan asked.

"Hinata," they said, chuckling.

"Samaal," said the ashen shadow man. "No hard feelings about cutting my legs off."

Morgan sensed he had hard feelings.

She looked back at Rowan. "What are we gonna do?"

Rowan changed to appear as Milo Meiori, and Morgan almost attacked upon seeing Milo's face again.

"We get married," said Milo. "But first, we should go to Lyn. She's had a rough time."

Indeed Lyn was distraught.

Lyn had broken almost everything in her room, her furniture, her toys; even the door was beginning to give way to her tiny ferocious fists.

After several hours, she tired herself out and fell asleep on the floor.

She woke up terribly hungry.

Her head ached, and the lights were blinding. Lyn was too miserable to scream. Instead, she crawled under a table and cried weakly and inconsolably.

That's how Morgan and Rowan found her. They pulled her out from under the bed, but Lyn screamed in agony when the sunlight touched her.

They tried to feed Lyn breakfast, but she vomited everything. Soon she couldn't get out of bed.

'Blood,' Lyn signed weakly. 'Thirsty.'

Samaal recognized the symptoms at once. He took Morgan and Rowan aside, where Lyn wouldn't be able to read their lips.

"When you were possessed by the fallen, you collected a journal along with Lyn, correct?" he asked Morgan.

Stolen story; please report.

She remembered and retrieved Kroeser's journal from her pocket.

To think, Azazel had figured out Kroeser was the Raven, and Morgan hadn't. If only she had gone with her first instinct and beaten Kroeser to a pulp, Lyn wouldn't be suffering.

Morgan read the most recent entry aloud, which confirmed Samaal's suspicions.

"Lyn has inherited Cain's curse. She needs to feed," he said flatly.

Rowan and Morgan were reluctant to believe, but he slit his wrist to prove the point. Lyn woke to suckle Samaal's arm like a babe at a tit. Samaal had to pry his hand away from the ravenous child by force. Already Lyn was remarkably strong.

Lyn fell into her pillow and breathed deeply as color returned to her face. Then she sat up and smiled, waving happy hellos to Morgan and Rowan.

Lyn's recovery was miraculous, to Morgan's horror and joy.

But she was alive, and that's what mattered. The rest could be figured out later.

Morgan rushed forward to hug her little sister. Lyn was alive.

Rowan was disturbed by the nature of Lyn's recovery. The implications.

The possibilities.

But that would have to wait because the wedding was tomorrow.

Adam Himself would soon arrive on Crescent to marry his loyal two subjects, Azazel the fallen, to Milo Meiori, Steward of the Vulpen Islands and traitor to his people.

Morgan and Lyn had a few short days to share together, showing off their new magics and discovering a neat trick they could do when their powers combined.

And they went over the plan. They knew the signal.

Finally, the day arrived.

The ceremony would be held in Church. The procession down the hill and through Harbor was the most humiliating experience of Morgan's life.

Morgan wore a flowing silk emerald wedding dress with a dark pink veil adorned with rose petals. She remained silent among countless guests and dignitaries, Stewards of the Vulpen Islands, who would all soon be answering to Milo Meiori.

Rowan knew this would be a night to die for, relishing the role of Milo, traitor triumphant.

Morgan never left "Milo's" side, depending on him heavily throughout the day, but never looking directly at him, preserving the memory of his face as he was.

In a grand open-air auditorium, an enormous mirror dominated the center stage of Church Grounds, so Godfather Adam could make an entrance, which He did with typical fanfare and thunderous applause from the clergy.

Morgan was grateful that her veil concealed her expressions.

The guests were seated.

Godfather Adam addressed the crowd, speaking eloquent nonsense about loyalty and faith, and then He cued the music.

"Milo Meiori" walked "Azazel the Fallen" down the aisle.

Milo was the only person in the room who looked genuinely happy to be in attendance. Even his children looked glum.

But Morgan's entire life had been preparing for this moment.

It was supposed to be Raf, she thought, silently crying behind her veil.

Meanwhile, Rowan had obsessed over this moment for thirty years, Milo's eyes wide with excitement.

Their hearts pounded in their chests as they walked down the aisle, finally reaching the podium where Adam stood, resplendent as ever, adorned in all five Blessings.

But Adam wasn't wearing the dragon scale that Morgan described, which meant Rafael's soul was trapped somewhere else, with someone else.

What game are the angels playing? Rowan wondered and then tried to focus.

This is it.

Just a little bit longer.

Wait for it…

Adam was talking about marriage and fidelity, but Morgan's heart beat so loudly in her ears she could barely hear his words. She tried to focus. Her veil would be lifted soon, and she needed to act like Azazel.

"… do you?"

"I do," Milo said breathlessly.

"... do you?"

"I do," Morgan said in a flat monotone.

"... I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Milo lifted Morgan's veil, and apart from the dried tear tracks, she looked appropriately bored.

Milo leaned in to kiss her. Morgan froze, closed her eyes, and remembered the real Milo as the life left his face.

Lips quickly touched, and then Milo turned to face Adam again.

"Kneel," commanded Adam.

Milo took a knee and looked up with excitement.

Adam drew his Blessed Sword. He lowered the deadly instrument to tap Milo's shoulder, dubbing him Steward of the Vulpen Islands.

That was the moment.

Not for millennia had there been a split second of such monumental significance. What followed would impact the future of every life on Eden and even beyond.

Samaal struck. Using his shadow magic, he travelled through the ground and burst up from the shadows underneath Morgan's dress, sending shadow blades to slice Adam into pieces.

It happened so fast Adam didn't have time to react, but He knew better than to leave Himself entirely vulnerable in such a public and ungodly corner of Eden. Most of Adam's body was intangible, a power the metal feathers lining His Blessed Belt gifted Him.

Consequently, most of the shadow blades drifted through Adam's body like smoke, except for one. To tap Milo's shoulder, Adam made tangible both His sword and the hand that held it, so one of Samaal's shadow blades sliced Adam's hand off at the wrist.

Two Blessings fell, the Ivory Sword and Bone Gauntlet.

In an instant, Samaal enveloped the Blessings in shadow and dashed behind Adam.

A second that lasted an eternity passed as everyone processed what just happened. Adam looked at the bloody stump where His right hand used to be in dumb shock. Everyone was dead silent. The only sound made was the wet splash of Adam's blood on the granite floor. Suddenly, He turned to face Samaal, who saw death in His eyes. Adam raised the Shell Gauntlet at Samaal.

Rowan burst into fire and blasted flames at Adam's face. It didn't do Him any damage, but it did distract and infuriate Him, which was the point.

Adam was fully intangible. Nothing they did could hurt him. They had already lost. But Samaal was so close to the mirror! He might still escape with the two Blessings and fight another day. And if Rowan died buying Samaal a few precious seconds, so be it.

Adam turned in hate to obliterate Rowan, but Morgan wasn't about to let that happen. She wrapped Rowan and herself in a hard light barrier and quickly pulled the barrier far away from Adam. As they flew up and backward, Morgan picked up Lyn and Hinata, securing them all in a bubble. Adam became unhinged. He screamed an insane screech and turned again to Samaal, who was already influencing the mirror with his shadow magic.

Adam stumbled from blood loss but raised his left arm in time to throw a blast. Kinetic waves pulverized cracks into the granite floor and collided with Samaal and the mirror as he stepped through it. The blast threw him into the mirror. Samaal disappeared as the giant mirror shattered into pieces from the blast force.

Everyone held their breath.

Thinking quickly, Rowan instructed Lyn and Morgan to combine their magic. Using Morgan's hard light constructs as a foundation, Lyn redirected the light waves around the bubble, rendering everyone inside it invisible.

"Get us out of here," Rowan whispered to Morgan. "Can you carry us to Lona?"

Morgan hesitated only an instant. Flying them all to the nearest island would be the longest use of her powers that she'd ever managed, but if she failed, they would all die, so she nodded once and flew them fast and far away.

Adam, meanwhile, had snapped. In over six thousand years, He'd never been truly harmed before. He'd never seen His own blood pour out. He'd never felt the cold threat of His own mortality or known the frailty of His own heartbeat. He looked around at the grand auditorium, packed with His children. Hundreds of His children, who saw their Godfather bleed; who saw Him lose His holy relics; who saw Him fail; who saw Him fear death; who knew too much.

He began to float, and as He floated, the Blessings in His Belt and left Gauntlet glowed horribly, and the stone beneath and around Him disintegrated, swirling into a molten hot ball in the air. Everything and everyone around Him, everywhere He looked, disintegrated to sand and mist.

As the people in the audience realized what He was doing, they panicked and ran, but it wouldn't matter. Adam waved his left arm, and the screaming stopped.

When He was finished obliterating everything around Him, He gathered the dry particles and forced them into an enormous mass, molten hot from pressure and friction. Still floating midair, He molded the magma into the shape of a right hand and screamed in insane agony as the new molten prosthetic cauterized His bloody stump.

He shivered and vomited. Taking a moment to recollect Himself, Adam stilled the molecules in His new arm, cooling it, settling the molten mass into a glorious diamond.

Adam examined His new diamond hand, wiggled His fingers, touched His other hand, and made a fist.

Finding it good, Adam returned to His task, that of genocide.

He'd massacred His children countless times before. It should hardly affect Him so terribly, yet it did, every time, and this time more than ever.

He cried in misery. He cried for His children He murdered, whose molecules now comprised His glorious hand. He looked up with tear-filled eyes of rage and hate and fear.

His crown shined, and Adam erased any memory of the event from the aether. If anyone still lived to tell the world what He'd done… The whole island would have to go, He decided finally.

He rose higher, and as He rose, His destruction bloomed. The entire Island of Crescent was erased before the sun set.

When He found His work was good, and no trace of Crescent remained, He flew away, dispersing the clouds with a bang as He broke the sound barrier.

Epilogue

Eve read a book in Her favorite chair in the Aviary. A delicately curated ecosystem of birds and butterflies surrounded her, Adam's gift to Eve millennia ago. Her private retreat from responsibilities as Holy Mother.

What did that mean anymore, Eve wondered, glancing up as a stunning butterfly batted its wings. Eve hadn't bled in over a millennium. All Her children were long dead, with Her grandchildren and Her great-grandchildren.

Now all Her babys' babies looked familiar yet unfamiliar, unnerving and uncanny, each reminding Her of someone else. These days, Her progeny died so quickly Eve could barely remember Her attendants' names. None of them even lived to 100.

But She remembered their stories. Eve used to tell Her babies stories in bed, around fires, over dinner…

They loved Her stories. And when they grew up, they gave Her stories in return.

This story was one of Eve's favorites. She had read it countless times.

It always broke her heart.

The story itself was unremarkable; but always brought to Eve's mind its writer, Her dearest second daughter. Her brave, kind, headstrong girl.

"Eve," a heavenly voice interrupted Her sad reverie.

Eve looked up to see an angel floating like a beacon of light, covered in silky ruby armor.

Eve's oldest friend and closest confidant, Sophia.

Eve ran to Sophia, and they lovingly embraced each other.

"I brought you a gift," Sophia whispered breathlessly, opening a hand to reveal a platinum chain necklace ornately woven around a large, iridescent black scale.

Eve looked up, silently beseeching, 'what is it?'

"Freedom," Sophia answered.