The chamber stank of blood and smoke. The shattered altar still bled a faint crimson glow, as if mocking the men who had survived its desecration. Maxwell slumped against the wall, his body aching with every shallow breath. His storm-gray eyes followed the flicker of Father Anthony's trembling hands as the priest attempted to bandage his ribs.
"You need rest," Anthony muttered, his voice sharp with worry. "Samael could have broken you in half."
Maxwell winced, trying to laugh but choking on the pain. "Yeah, thanks for the encouragement."
Anthony shook his head. "I mean it, Maxwell. You're powerful—yes—but he's beyond us. That wasn't even his full strength. He was toying with you."
The words cut deeper than any wound. Maxwell had felt it himself—Samael's power was overwhelming, a gulf between them wider than the ocean. For the first time since taking up his father's blade, he had felt utterly powerless.
His thoughts spiraled into doubt, his hand trembling as he reached for the sword beside him. The runes along its blade pulsed faintly, as if whispering, Get up. Keep fighting.
But his spirit sagged. "If that's what we're up against," he said bitterly, "then maybe this is already lost."
Anthony's reply was cut short by a sound that sliced through the air.
A voice. Clear. Strong. Radiant.
"Do not surrender what was gifted to you."
The words reverberated in the chamber, not spoken aloud but resonating in their very bones. Maxwell's head snapped upward, his senses flaring. Light—pure and blinding—poured into the catacombs like a sunrise piercing endless night.
Maxwell shielded his eyes. Anthony dropped to his knees, tears springing unbidden as the radiance filled the space.
From the brilliance stepped a figure.
She was tall, her armor gleaming as though forged from the dawn itself, etched with symbols older than the Earth. A silver helm rested against her hip, revealing a face fierce yet serene, framed by flowing golden hair that seemed to shimmer with its own light. And her wings—vast, white as snow, feathered with light—unfurled with a sound like thunder rolling through Heaven.
Gabriel.
But she was not in the form of the archangel men painted in stained glass and frescoes. No—this was Gabby, as Maxwell remembered her from fleeting dreams and fragments of childhood. The guardian who had watched over him in secret, the one who had whispered encouragement when he was alone.
Maxwell's throat tightened. "Gabby…"
The angel smiled faintly, her voice carrying warmth even amid her power. "You have grown, child of two worlds. Stronger than the last time I saw you. And yet…" Her eyes softened as they studied his trembling hands. "Still doubting your strength."
Anthony bowed his head low, unable to meet her gaze. "Saint Michael defend us…" he whispered, his voice breaking. "An angel, here…"
Gabby lifted her gaze to the priest. "Rise, Anthony. Your faith has been tested and proven. You have carried the Codex through fire and blood. For that, you are honored."
Anthony swallowed hard, still trembling, but managed to straighten. His eyes glistened.
Maxwell finally pushed himself to his feet, though unsteady. "Why now?" he asked, his voice rough. "Why wait until we were nearly dead?"
Gabby's eyes darkened. "Because only now did Samael reveal himself. The Fallen has broken free of chains that should have held him for eternity. He gathers strength. And if he gains the vial…" She let the sentence hang, her silence heavier than words.
Maxwell's jaw clenched. "Then he'll open the gates."
"Worse," Gabby said softly. "He will tear them apart."
Her wings folded slightly, the light dimming so the chamber felt less blinding. She stepped closer to Maxwell, her expression stern but not unkind. "You are afraid. That is good—it means you understand what is at stake. But do not mistake fear for weakness. Your blood carries both Heaven's fire and Earth's resilience. Samael fears you more than you fear him."
Maxwell wanted to believe her. But his ribs still burned with every breath, and the memory of Samael's casual strength haunted him. He looked away. "I couldn't even scratch him."
Gabby placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. Warmth surged through him, a healing light that eased his pain, sealing wounds and knitting bone. "Because you were fighting alone. And that time has ended."
Her eyes glimmered with fierce resolve. "You will not face this darkness without Heaven's hand beside you. I am your blade as much as you wield your own."
Anthony exhaled shakily, awe still in his voice. "Then there's hope yet."
Gabby nodded once, solemn. "There is always hope. But it must be fought for."
She extended her hand toward Maxwell. With reluctance at first, then with growing strength, he grasped it. For the first time since his mother's death, he felt something other than grief and rage. He felt… lifted.
The chamber brightened again, torches snapping back into life as though renewed by her presence. The Codex in Anthony's satchel throbbed faintly with golden light, responding to the angel's arrival.
Gabby turned toward the shattered altar. Her expression hardened. "Samael will not stop. The vial draws him like a beacon. If he reaches it, the world will be undone."
Anthony frowned. "Then we must destroy it."
Gabby's gaze flickered with sorrow. "The vial cannot be destroyed by mortal means. Nor by angel. Only in the heart of dying starlight can its essence be undone. That is where you must go."
Maxwell blinked, incredulous. "A… dying star? You mean literally? In space?"
Gabby's lips curved faintly. "The realms of Heaven and creation are broader than you imagine, Nephilim. Doors exist where faith and will align."
Anthony looked between them, his hands shaking slightly as he held the Codex tighter. "Then this is our road. To the star."
Gabby lifted her sword, its edge glowing like a sunrise. "And Samael will not give you time to prepare. He already hunts. We must move swiftly."
Maxwell's grip tightened on his own blade. For the first time in days, his heart didn't feel heavy. He met Gabby's eyes and nodded. "Then let's stop him."
The chamber trembled faintly, dust falling from the vaulted ceiling. Somewhere in the distance, deep in the tunnels, an unholy roar echoed—a sound of fury and promise. Samael was not far.
Gabby spread her wings, light flooding the darkness once more. "Then the war begins."