Grace shot through the air toward Celestia. The Archangel now hung suspended between two broken towers, golden blood dripping steadily from her wounds.
"Celestia!" Grace caught her before she could fall. "Are you—"
"Grace." Celestia's voice came out ragged. "You shouldn't be here."
"Like hell I shouldn't." Grace helped Celestia steady herself. One of the Archangel's wings bent at an unnatural angle. Three deep gashes ran across her chest, each one leaking golden light. "What were you thinking, fighting her alone?"
"It's my duty. I have to face her." Celestia coughed. More blood. "She's my responsibility."
"No. She's all our responsibility. Gotta clean up Eternia's mess, right?"
Above them, Azrael floated on, watching with amusement. Amethyst-tinted lightning crackled from her body, darkening the clouds below and around her.
"How touching." Azrael's voice carried across the sky. "The failed steward and the poorly-made replacement, united in their delusions."
