They moved single file, Lucan first, then Damien, then her. Sariel led them, his brother Azazel at his side. They stopped at the doors, and Sariel looked calmly at Lucan.

“Do your duty one last time, brother.”

Lucan stepped forward, and Ariane thought of what Sammael had told her, of how Lucan had been Chaos’s keeper for centuries, making sure he was fed just enough to stay in the twilit state between waking and sleep. Lucan had had a wretched existence… and yet he still had more compassion than most of his brothers.

Lucan placed his hand on the doors, and a glowing seam appeared to split it in two. The two halves swung slowly open, revealing a pitch-dark chamber. Not even the light from the corridor penetrated the thick curtain of blackness that seemed to hang at the entrance. The air here felt thick, almost soupy, and Ariane began to find it hard to breathe.

Sariel stepped aside and looked at the three of them expectantly. For the first time, Ariane could see his excitement. It left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“In. All of you. I’ve fed him enough to waken him. He’s waiting.”

Ariane walked past Sariel, and as soon as she crossed the threshold, the prick of the blade left her back.

At first she could see nothing. She drank in what little air she could, feeling that strange pressure squeezing her. A hand grabbed hers. Damien. She squeezed it.

Whatever this is, kitten, we go down swinging together.

She didn’t have the heart to respond, didn’t want to acknowledge that this was probably it. All this struggling, all she’d done, and still she’d ended up given to this creature in the end. She thought of the illustration in her book, recoiled from it.

The darkness began to lift as they moved forward, subtly at first, then turning the room a sort of washed out gray. Ariane could see the stone floor, the high, domed ceiling. And then came the sight that made her stumble over her own feet.

“Ah, Sariel. I began to wonder if you had lied to me.”

The voice, as silken and irresistible as it was sinister, came from the being chained to the floor in the center of the room.

Chaos.

Ariane had expected a monster. What she saw was a man who was undoubtedly kin to the other ancients, white hair hanging limp and filthy around a face that could have been painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. He was as beautiful as he was broken, his tattered ebony wings stretched at odd angles from his back, as though they’d been broken many times. Though his frame was tall and large, he was emaciated, skin stretched over bone.

Ariane felt a moment of pity. Then Chaos looked directly at her, and she saw the fire dancing at the center of eyes that were full black. There was more than madness there, more than pain and death. He was evil, distilled down to its very essence.

“The time for lies between us is past,” Sariel said. “Look at the feast I’ve brought you.”

Chaos leaned forward to peer hungrily at them, and despite his wasted form, covered only by a dirty loincloth, Ariane sensed that the only thing keeping Chaos from lunging at them was the chains.

“Ah, Lucan. My benevolent captor. I wondered where you’d gone.”

Lucan said nothing, staring impassively ahead. Chaos swung his gaze to Damien and curled his lip in a sneer. “And a cat-thing. Adequate.” Then he looked at Ariane, and his eyes lit. She tried to look away, into the distance, anywhere but into those two pits.

“Sammael’s blood. Very nice. I’ve been promised your sire as well, d’akara.” His gaze swung to Sariel. “Bring Sammael. Bring the rest of them.”

His voice had a razor-sharp edge, and Ariane wondered whether Chaos was even completely sane. He sounded right on the verge of screaming.

Sariel motioned behind them at someone, then regarded his brother with the first hint of wariness Ariane had seen.

“The others are still drugged, Chaos. And you said they were for the—”

“He wants them all for himself, you stupid git,” Damien snapped. “He’ll probably suck your soul out, too, just for entertainment!”

Ariane’s blood went cold when she saw Chaos’s black gaze swing to Damien.

“Perhaps I’ll take your tongue before I take you soul, cat.”

Ariane heard footsteps behind her then and turned to see Sam, stoic as always, walking out of the darkness that surrounded them, ahead of Baraqel. He didn’t look as though he’d been harmed, Ariane saw, relieved.

Sam’s eyes met hers, just for an instant, and she could see he wasn’t finished fighting quite yet. Hope, irrational but no less real for it, bloomed in her chest. Surely the four of them, even against a demon, could do some damage.

Sam glared defiantly at Chaos, then looked to Sariel. “Chaos betrayed us all, and yet you choose him? You are a fool, brother. I thought better of you. Better of you all.”

Sariel was unmoved. “What have we gotten for all these years? Power that is not power, life that is not life. We’ve denied ourselves and looked to the skies, hoping, waiting to be forgiven. We are pathetic,” he hissed. “At least the Dark Fallen have tasted this place. I want to feel.” A shadow of something, some ancient pain, moved over his face. “I would feel before I am dust. I tire of watching over petulant children!”

“Then run,” Lucan said quietly. “I spent years down here, guarding this monster. Since I left this barren place, I’ve lived more than I did in thousands of years. Run, and leave him chained.”

“No!” Sariel snarled.

“You don’t understand, Lucan,” Chaos hissed. “You’re still cold. My blood runs hot. I can give that to him. To all who follow me.” He slanted a look at Sariel, and Ariane felt a sick twist in her stomach. Damien gave her hand a final squeeze.

“Forget the others, then. I am ready. Unchain me. Let me feed. Let me rise.”

Sariel never hesitated. He pulled a key from his pocket, made of the same bright metal as Chaos’s manacles, and with an ominous series of four clicks, freed the demon. Ariane shrank back as Chaos straightened, rubbing at his wrists and looking around as though he were seeing his prison for the first time. Slowly, painfully, he tried to stretch his mangled wings.

He turned to Sariel, a smile lighting the wasted beauty of his face so that just for an instant, he was an angel once more.

Then he drew back one hand, extended long black claws, and sent Sariel crashing to the floor with a single, brutal stroke. Dark blood flowed quickly into the dust, leaking from multiple wounds from the corner of Sariel’s mouth.

He looked up at his brother, violet eyes wide. “Why… why…”

“Because I can.”

Somewhere in the thick darkness beyond them, the doors crashed shut.

Ariane went cold when Chaos’s eyes pegged her in the darkness.

“You, I think, little angel. You first.”

He lunged at her with surprising strength and swiftness, his jaw opening and elongating until he was no longer beautiful but some twisted monster. All she could do was throw up her hands, a useless defense. There was no time to do more, nothing she could do. She didn’t see Damien move, had no idea what he’d done until she heard the furious roar and saw Chaos arch back with a tortured scream.

Damien was attached to the demon’s back, claws tearing and ripping at his already tattered wings. The weak point, just as Ariane had told him. He hadn’t forgotten.

Sam gave a battle cry that had dust and chunks of rock raining from the ceiling, and she felt a silent brush of wings beside her: Lucan.

The room erupted into pandemonium as Chaos sprang into the air, thrashing to try detaching Damien. What light there was began to fade, and the dust and debris began to rain harder from the ceiling with the furious cries of fallen angels. She whirled, looking for Chaos. She saw Sam ripping Baraqel’s sword from his grasp, Lucan fending off Ezekeel and Azazel. Time seemed to slow as she spun and unfurled her wings from her back, thinking only of finding Damien. There had to be something she could do, even if it was only clawing at Chaos with her bare hands.

There was a tremendous thundering in the distance as someone began to pummel the door. Armaros, she thought. He’d stayed behind to relock the cages and was one less ancient to deal with.

She caught a glimpse of wildly flapping black wings and sprang into the air, only to be yanked back by her hair. She cried out, more in surprise than pain, as she crashed to the ground.

Then Sariel brought his boot down on her wing, and she screamed, arching in pain. For an instant she could see nothing, just a bright burst of white light to accompany the agony in her wing.

“No,” Sariel said, his eyes wild. Then he looked above him, drawing his sword from the sheath between his wings. “Chaos! Here! Take her and rise, brother!”

As her bones began to knit, Sariel stomped his foot again, rebreaking fragile bone. This time Ariane roared, rolling onto her side and curling into herself. Chaos crashed to the ground in front of her, Damien nowhere to be seen. Blood as black as his wings poured from his wounds, but he moved quickly, coming to crouch beside her, baring a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth. In that moment, he was every bit the nightmarish creature she had envisioned.

She imagined Damien’s body, broken and torn, hurled against one of the far walls, and reached out to him as Chaos leaned over her.

Damien… love you…

Chaos jerked backward suddenly, midnight eyes going wide as the tip of a sword erupted from his chest. He gagged, staggering, as the sword was withdrawn. And behind him was Damien, bloodied, unsteady, and covered in dust… but alive. In his hands was one of the ancients’ swords.

As she watched, he swung the sword high over his head, aiming for Sariel.

A sound filled the room then, a shout so full of pain and fury that it seemed to encompass all the suffering of the world in a single sound. Damien froze. Ariane felt a single drop of blood trickle from her nose as the room was plunged into darkness. A sonic boom shook the floor, crumbling sections of wall. She could hear the stones falling as everything moved, and she pulled her wounded wings into herself, waiting for the final strike.