It’s dark and it’s cold. But unlike my dream, it’s not quiet. I can hear bells ringing, ringing in the dark. Each chime is like a shot of ice through my bones -- seriously it’s like...being dunked in icy water. Okay, maybe it’s just the water.

Strangely, I’m not scared anymore. I think I should be, but I’m not. I’m really calm. I guess it’s nice to get away from all that insanity up there.

Hyun!

Huh? I open my eyes and the dark vanishes. Above me is ice, something gold and blinding on the other side. I reach out to touch it. My fingers slide across the thick ceiling, even as my lungs begin to protest painfully at their lack of oxygen.

Glass shatters somewhere. No -- the ice shatters. It shatters and flies away in sharp, crystalline shards; it looks like stardust in the moonlight. The night air fills my lungs and I gasp for breath.

I’m alive. I’m alive. I’m alive.

Strong hands grip my shoulders and that bright gold light is Coach, hauling me to my feet. His lips are forming words; I think he’s saying my name. But all I can hear is the wind. The wind and the leaves it rushes through and the whisper of snow and...I think I can hear the pieces of ice still hitting the lake, tinkling like small temple bells.

“Hyun!”

Coach is calling my name, and there are Death, Conquest, and even War. They’re all here. Where’s Famine? Where’s the archangel with the wolf smile? Where’s--

“Look out!” I throw Coach out of the way as Michael appears behind him, sword already in a swinging arc to strike. What the fuck am I even doing? Fuck, I wasn’t even thinking. I don’t wanna die -- I’m not ready to die! I’m only twenty! I’m barely an adult!

I throw my hands out -- I don’t know, maybe something will happen. I’ve shut my eyes, but I can hear them all screaming -- Coach, Death, Conquest, even War.

…’course he’s yelling “kid” and not my name. That fucker.

I hear that same sound: Crashing glass. Only it’s louder, a lot closer and something stings on my cheek. But something collides with me to dive out of the way, which at first I think is dumb because now I’m on the ground and I’m pretty sure my face is bleeding because that stinging place is also dripping down something warm and liquid-y. Where I once stood is nothing but a shattered mess of ice; Michael’s sword did some serious damage. That could’ve been me. I don’t feel so good, but the soft, gentle hands that helped me dive out of the way now bring me to my feet while everybody’s shouting around me.

“Let me see your face, Hyun,” says a kind voice. The voice is attached to a face that smiles, even while being really bright. I stiffen and the archangel softens, gently touching my cheek. It stings a moment, before turning warm and tingly in a pleasant way. “There,” he says, moving his hand, helping me to my feet. I move without thinking, letting him lead me, even though I’m fairly certain we aren’t supposed to be on the same side.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“Rafa’el.” I feel Coach behind us.

“Hello, brother. It appears your son has once again gotten himself into trouble.” He smiles, “Like father, like son, I suppose.”

“Thank you,” I manage to say through the adrenaline “for saving me.”

“Ha!” he laughs. “I’d hardly call clearing up that cut ‘saving,’ but you’re welcome!”

“Rafa’el,” Michael growls, his sword flashing in the moonlight. Is it just me or is it starting to, like, glow a little weirdly.

“Brother,” the guy who I now know is named Raphael turns. “Once again, I’m caught up in the middle of you two.” He sounds annoyed, like this is so regular an occurrence that he can’t even muster up the energy to be mad anymore.

How often does this sort of thing happen?

“You would dare heal that demon -- the antikhristos!” Michael growls from his position.

Raphael snorts, “The Antichrist, please. Whatever your issues are with Lucifer -- and I’m not saying they’re unwarranted...Hyun is innocent.”

“Innocent,” Michael scoffs.

“Now, now, what would Father think?” a smooth voice asks.

That terrifying archangel from before appears behind Michael, a strip of cloth now over one eye. Gold liquid streams down his cheek -- holy shit, did Famine manage to take out his eye with those discs of hers? That is more than a little impressive. I throw her some serious mental props.

Only then do I notice the one-eyed angel is dragging something in his hand. It’s the head of a horse, blood like shadows staining the ice, black mane pooling like ink. Famine screams from wherever she is, and I cover my mouth to look away. I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“Was that necessary, Uri’el?” Michael doesn’t sound pleased. He actually sounds sad, and that pisses me off.

“The fuck do you care?!” I ask, still repressing the strong urge to puke. I swallow back that last bit of bile to glare at the golden general.

Everyone goes quiet. I suppose no one has ever yelled at Michael like that before. But I guess they’ve also never met a falsely-accused antichrist who’s more than a little sick of this Apocalypse and constantly almost-dying shit.

“You’ve done nothing but hunt me down and try to kill me for no reason -- okay, yeah, I get it: you think I’m the antichrist, but you’re wrong! I’m not a monster or a devil, I’m justa random, unimportant human. And these guys,” I motion back at the Horsemen who, even though I can’t see them, I assume are behind me with Coach, “have been keeping me safe from you. And now you’ve tried to kill them too, all because you can’t accept the possibility that you’re wrong!”

“I do my duty,” Michael growls, swinging his sword for emphasis. “You are the spawn of the Deceiver, who gathers the Four to you, breaking open the Seals and defiling my Father’s laws with your very existence.”

“I literally have no fucking clue what you’re talking about!”

Something screams and I jump back as light explodes in the sky.