Fallen Angel

Chapter 33.2

Morpheus stood on his balcony, gazing into the endless night that reigned his domain. He couldn't get the Fallen Angel's words out of his head. Not because of how or what she said (though her impudence irked him immensely), but because she made Morpheus realise the one thing he had been trying so hard to deny — he had become a pawn.
Nothing was his own anymore. Everything he had, everything he was, was controlled by those bastards from Hell. Nothing the Devil and his monstrous son did was to his benefit. What had he gained from being in league with them? What would be his reward?
The Horsemen were at long last gone, but the Lord Protector turned out to be right. The mortals suffering from their influence no longer dreamed. They stayed awake, too afraid to die in their sleep. And when they did finally succumb to exhaustion, their minds and hearts no longer created the necessary escape. They were empty vessels, living machines of flesh and blood, stuck in survival mode. They lacked... soul.

Damn them... damn them all! What good are dreams and nightmares if no one can experience them? What good is my Realm of eternal night if the darkness from the Underworld threatens to wrap everything in despair? I am as much a slave as the wretches serving me!

Morpheus banged his fist on the balcony, his blood boiling, outraged that those vile creatures had just dared to come into his Realm to destroy the world and work he had spent millennia creating. No more. This ended now.

***

Something was wrong. Lucifer sensed it immediately. It wasn't Michael. He was still trapped in his prison in the Dream Realm; he had seen him only hours ago after the battle of the Castel Sant' Angelo. And it wasn't Margaret. She was lying in bed beside him, half-naked and still asleep, exhausted from their wild love-making. No, what Lucifer sensed wasn't a person; it was... the Circles!
Lucifer hurried to his window, ignoring Margaret's surprised exclamation when she awoke to his sudden movements. He scoured the bloodied fields, the burning planes and the mountains of brimstone until he saw something in the far distance, at the very borders of Limbo. His eyes squinted, then widened in shock and disbelief when he realised what was happening.

"That fool! What the hell is he thinking?"

"Lucifer?" Margaret called to him from the bed. "What is it?" 

"Stay in this room," he told her as he rushed to his wardrobe to take out his armour. "Lock the door behind me and keep away from the window. I have to go deal with someone."

He called for a servant and ordered that he immediately go to Borgia to tell him to prepare for battle. Margaret began to understand the severity of the situation and quickly covered herself with a dress robe.

"Who would be stupid enough to attack Hell?" she questioned aloud when she went over to help her husband.

"Someone who has clearly forgotten what he stands to lose," replied Lucifer grimly. "I'll just have to remind him."

He strapped the last of his armour on and turned to Margaret, who instantly grabbed his face and brought him down to her to kiss him. The silver pendant he gave her glowed at her bosom when their lips touched.

"Be careful," she whispered. "I've only just found you. Don't you dare leave me again."

"Never, my love."

Lucifer pressed his lips once more to Margaret's mouth before tearing himself away from her. He strode out of his chamber, his sword already in hand. That little Archangel was becoming more and more of a nuisance. High time dear Gabriël learned his place.

***

A figure with wings as black as night stood at the top of the Devil's palace, looking out over the Circles, envisioning all the changes he would make when the fighting suddenly began.