God would never allow such treason. A quiet chuckle slipped loose at the thought as I was once again reminded of our abandonment. We were alone, even here in Heaven.

A massive boom shook me from my sickened reverie, and I glanced up to see Gabriel and Michael joining the fray. The storm of their might showered Uriel and his forces with a rain of magical fire. Uriel stumbled back toward the open gates, defending as he went.

“I have to help him,” Forcalor growled through clenched teeth as a wave of rebel angels followed on the heels of the archangels’ attack. He said no more as he raced to bolster Uriel. I followed at his heels. Gabriel’s forces were upon us before we reached the gates.

Forcalor flung aside the first of his attackers. I wasn’t so fortunate.

My stomach churned at what I must do, and I felt as though my sword couldn’t move fast enough. I cut down several of the heretics as they closed, but for every blow I delivered, I received three in turn. There were simply too many.

Bursts of energy exploded all about me and I felt my hair catch fire, the flesh of my scalp blistering as I drew left to skewer yet another angel I’d once loved as a brother. The look in his golden eyes slowed my hand further. The blood spilling from my wounds did little to help.

Though I fought on, I could feel myself weakening. My ribs ached with every breath, a furnace in my lungs. Everto sat heavy in my hand, my knuckles showing white beneath the crimson coat of blood. My magic reined in for defense, to keep the fiery assault at bay, I could not hold the rebels at range. Dozens of bodies littered the ground about me, the courtyard tiles slick with the fluids of dead and dying angels.

And yet they still came.

I could hear their muffled shouts of anger, their cries for my head. Each speared my heart in turn and fueled my desire to rid them from my home. Sadly, passion is no shield in time of war. My vision blurred by weariness and the fog of battle, I didn’t see the angel who’d slipped past my guard until it was too late.