Dancing In The Void

Uriel heard the sweet song of her music box echoing in her mind.

The nightmare started off as a dream. A warm, comfortable dream that imbued her with false security. Constantine stood before her, looking away from her. He nodded, turning towards her, and Uriel found him faceless, a dark void where his eyes should have been. At that moment she realized it was a dream, she suddenly fell ill. A nauseating, breathless feeling began to overwhelm her, as if the very darkness around them began to choke her. She tried to awaken, but couldn't. She looked at Constantine with pleading eyes, crying out to him, but no word came out.

Her gaze fell, and she found herself at the base of a large staircase. At the bottom was a small puddle. Unwillingly, she gazed into it and found herself. It was a dreadful, terrible form, clad in black clothing made of ethereal mist. Her neck was cut through gushing pools of blood down her chest as her head floated a noticeable distance above her bleeding stump. Her hair billowed around as if in a heavy storm. It was a withered gray, dry and stringy like layers of cobwebs. Through the strands, she could see her skin was a sickly snow-white, and her lips a pungent violet, like that of a corpse. Uriel dared not look away, and saw her eyes were pale, still and lifeless. As the seconds ticked by, she watched as her forehead split, droplets of blood flowing down her face. An eye blinked back at her, swirling with the scarlet fury therein. The storm was on a cosmic scale, the pulsating ferocity of a thousand red stars, annihilating everything in their path. She tried to look away, and somehow, her body obeyed. She looked back at Constantine, and found him reaching over someone, protecting them with his body. Protecting them… from her.

Her heart wept. She wept for sorrow and fear, and the foundations of the world itself cried along with her. Her fingers tightened their grip around the weapon she grasped. A terrible thing, full of misery and dread. A weapon capable of making all the great and wicked Gods alike tremble, kneel, and weep. Uriel floated forwards to her lover, lifting the dreadful Scythe with the power of her mind. She wanted to scream, to warn him away, to reach out and save him from his terrible fate. But no matter how much she struggled and fought, she could do nothing other than what she did. The blade swung, slicing a tear in the very tapestry of the nightmare, and Uriel jumped screaming herself awake.

"Gah… ah…. ahh… ah…" She heaved and gasped, as if trying to remember what it was like to breathe. Almost immediately, her dream began to fade away, replaced by the familiar mundanity of the room she found herself in. A quiet beeping machine, the subtle dripping of fluid into a tube connected to her veins, the dim morning light that peeked through the blinds of her dirty windows. She clutched her forehead, trying not to think about the pulsing, pounding headache that was slowly creeping. It was then that she noticed how utterly covered in bandages, medical patches and gauze she was. She sighed, and continued sitting in the empty, silent room, and stared at her hands. The remnants of the stinging, burning pain within them came rushing back along with the rest of her memories, like a torrential flood. She collapsed back on her bed, wincing at the sudden pain in her wing. The pain opened up something within her, and everything came pouring out. She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

Time passed quicker than she anticipated. She might have fallen into a quick dreamless sleep, or she cried for so long that she lost all sense of time. Whatever the case, Uriel found herself startled awake by a doctor she did not recognize some time later.

"Y-you're awake?" The woman jumped back, startled.

"Now I am…" Uriel said, her voice wheezy and deep.

"Oh my god. I-I need to let some people know. But first I'm gonna need to do some quick tests." She said, quickly leaning towards Uriel and flashing a light in her eyes. Uriel slapped her hand away, irritated.

"How long have I been out?" She asked, sitting up on the bed.

"Miss, I really must insist that you continue resting, You've just come out of a coma you're not-"

"Don't Miss me, how long have I been out?"

The doctor sighed. "About a month. Five weeks."

Uriel was silent. She just nodded silently. "Its…" She began saying, as if she was struggling to find the words. "...Well… quicker than last time."

"Which is exactly why you should let me make sure you're okay! Going in and out of comas within half a year is not healthy!"

"I'm an angel, what would you know?" Uriel coldly said as she ripped the intravenous tubes from her veins, followed by the heartbeat patches on her chest.

"F-Fair point but still, you cannot get- URIEL!" The doctor screamed as Uriel suddenly collapsed on the floor as she tried standing. She rushed over to help the angel back up, but she just pushed her away. When the doctor insisted, Uriel shoved her, and she nearly fell back. Luckily, she caught herself between a small shelf and a wall. The unfortunate vase that was on that shelf was not as lucky, as it shattered on the floor. "Shit!"

"W-where… is my leg…" Uriel moaned, trying to climb back up using the sides of the bed.

"You lost it, do you not remember?" The doctor asked, suddenly worried.

"Obviously I meant my-" She said, successfully climbing back and managing to stand on one leg for a few seconds before sitting.

"Oh, we put your prosthetic aside, as well as all your clothes." She said, not waiting for Uriel to finish her statement.

"Where?"

"Uriel you can no-"

"WHERE?" Uriel's voice boomed and echoed, making the entire room shake for a moment.

"Uriel." A new voice called out from the doorway, neither of them noticing when the glass door slid open. "Don't take your angers out on our poor Doctor. We have precious few healers like her around, and she's tended the most to not just your wounds, but your friend's as well. I'll take it from here Chloe."

"D-Damien…?" Uriel asked, amazed to see him alive.

"But she-" The doctor quickly began but he nodded reassuringly.

"We'll take an early discharge, bring her stuff and maybe a couple crutches too. I'll take care of her, don't worry. Give me a list of her medicines and I'll take care of that as well." Damien nodded, his eyes giving the appearance of him smiling warmly despite his impenetrable mask.

The doctor brushed the dust off herself and rushed away in a huff.

"You should apologize to her when you get the chance, she's very sensitive, you know!"

"I didn't mean, I…" Uriel immediately turned meek, realizing what she had done.

"It's alright, you've been through a lot, just woke up too." Damien said reassuringly. "How are you feeling?"

Uriel just sat there silently, looking out the door instead of at him. "Weak. Soft."

"Yeah, sitting in bed for a long time will do that to you."

"I'm surprised you made it." Uriel blurted without consideration.

Damien burst into a quiet but genuine laugh. "You really thought I was that weak, hah?"

"N-no, I meant… I didn't even expect us to make it. I thought I would awake in some cage in Dudael… or worse, not wake at all! Seeing you was quite a surprise."

"Don't worry, I understand what you mean. Dudael was…" Damien paused trying to find the right words. Uriel noticed that beneath his clothing Damien was still noticeably bandaged, though not to the extent she was. He just sighed, and changed the subject, letting that discussion to be had another time. "You probably want to know how your friends are? Everyone's been discharged except for you. Evan's doing alright, probably the best out of anyone. He'll have the scar on his face and back for the rest of his life, but other than that, a few bruises and cuts that have all but healed by now. Insect is… well, she can no longer see out of her right eye, but she tells everyone that in some ways, she can see more with it. So that's great I suppose."

"What about you?"

"I'm handling myself. I think I've had it easier than everyone else, unfortunately. Asmodeus sent me away from the fight…"

Uriel could see the frustrations in his eyes. His aching desire to have been there, able to fight and defend those under his protection. If he was there, would things maybe have gone differently? Uriel asked herself. No point in wondering I suppose.

"And Wrath?" She asked.

"Funny. I wasn't told what exactly we'd be rescuing out of Dudael. You kept that from us."

"O-oh, sorry."

"Don't worry. I was just ready to kill her if need be, but Madame reassured me that what she said was true. She really is not a demon. So I suppose she'll be staying around. She's on a nutritional diet, which includes a lot of blood apparently. Evan seems insistent on donating as much as he can every week so at least she's not draining the hospital supplies."

"That's good at least!"

"Which brings me… to you." Damien said ominously.

Uriel gulped. Something about Damien's voice made the skin on her spine crawl. "Me?"

"Down in the depths of Dudael, I encountered a demon, by the name of Mephistopheles."

"I see." Uriel said, curling her fists and finding it difficult to contain her anger.

"I suppose we are all lucky I did not kill him. I could have so easily, but he surprised me by saying he knew you. Helping him with his plan was the only reason anyone managed to escape the prison that night." Damien said with a sigh. "I never could have expected the companionship of demons to assist us so much on that mission."

"He can rot for all I care." Uriel said spitefully.

"Listen, I don't know what he did when he went and saved you, and it is not my business. But what concerns me is knowing you are his daughter."

An ominous, pressing silence lingered in the room, with a cold sweat dripping down Uriel's forehead. "A-and… you're here now to kill me? Because I'm half-demon?"

"Goodness no, what gave you that impression?" Damien leaned back. He pulled out his arm from his cloak, showing his bandaged hand. "I have been trained to hunt and slay demons all my life. But even so, I am beyond hypocrisy. I understand there are those, like you, me, Insect, that have demonic heritages that make us blur the line between what is demonic, human, or in your case, divine. Even that day in Dudael, I fought alongside not one, but two full blown demons. Its… eye-opening, in a way."

"T-thank God. I thought I was done for…" Uriel breathed a sigh of relief.

Damien laughed. "We wouldn't have wasted the resources to keep you alive if I was just gonna kill you, you know?"

"I g-guess."

"That being said, I was not there after… well, after you apparently transformed. But everyone else told me what happened."

Uriel was silent, her eyes stared blankly, as she tried not remembering what Damien was talking about.

"Listen. I understand, in the heat of battle, emotions can take control. In dire moments, rage and fear claim us, empower us, and allow us to persevere and pull through. But Uriel, your power is beyond immense. Do you understand what that means?"

Uriel just bit her lip. At Damien's insistence, she spoke: "No, enlighten me."

"You need to control it, or it will control you. I do not wish to see your sheer god-like power be used against those I care about, against this city. Power consumes Uriel, heed my words well." Damien said kindly, but with grave sincerity. He once again lifted his bandaged hand. "If you would like, I can teach you. Even for me, it was incredibly difficult to subdue Cri'vathuul after I slew her. With help, mentoring, and especially time the demon's cold spark became all but dead, and her power is mine to use to protect others as I see fit. You don't have another soul to fight against, but your own. Still, I believe in you. You can easily master your darker impulses if you decide to accept, what say you?"

"I will…" Uriel began with a willing voice, but hesitated. "Its too early Damien. I… need time to consider things. I most likely will accept but-"

"I understand." Damien interrupted. "My apologies for being a bit impetuous. However I believe it is important to establish these sorts of issues right away. But, even if you agree or not, you must know that if I fail as a teacher, or if you don't want my help and I get the slightest indication that you might falter and fall to evil, I will not hesitate to lay my life on the line trying to kill you where you stand." The captain said with an icy, lethal chill in his voice.

"Ah so… you're here to threaten me, and make sure I don't step out of line?"

"Not entirely. I was here to make sure you are safe, and to offer you my guidance. I have done both, let us take you to your friends."

"Has anyone ever told you how blunt you are?"

"Many people." He said. "Many times."

"Well Damien, you shouldn't worry much. My dearest father Mephistopheles sealed away my powers. What the others saw in the depths, that power I channeled then, I don't know if I can do anything like that again without great harm to myself."

"Great! In that case… I see the doctor is coming. Let's get you out of here and meet the others." He said, giving her a gentle tap on the back under her wings.

Uriel tried to smile, but her mood was so thoroughly soured it was difficult to put on any veneer of happiness next to Damien. But as he helped her put her on her new prosthetic, she began to unwind the tension and stress in her body, if only slightly. She was surprised to learn that her original prosthetic had been lost in Dudael when she had transformed but as Damien said:

"Lucky for you Nathan had two legs, a slight adjustment on its design and its good as new."

The doctor, Chloe, then insisted on giving her a quick immune-booster shot before she left. Uriel had no idea what that was, but she was in no mood to argue. The doctor then removed most of her larger bandages complaining all the while that she still needed time. Her complaints fell on stubborn deaf ears. Once she was done, Uriel was able to go into a nearby room and dress herself. Her coat had been cleaned and repaired, the many scuffs and cuts it suffered fixed by an expert tailor. Aside from her coat, she was given some fresh new clothes, a deep-green skirt that nearly reached down to her ankles and a plain gray sweater who's back had been specially cut to accommodate her wings. Using a crutch she was able to hold herself from keeling over as she walked. Damien tried to assist her, but she promptly refused him. Once the two of them finally made their way outside, Uriel paused and looked up at the sky.

"It's so dark." She said, finally saying something after their earlier chat.

"Been like this for a couple days. Dark clouds, no rain though." Damien said as he got inside his car, a massive black vehicle that looked more like a tank than anything else.

Uriel lingered for a moment, tracing the shapes and faces in the clouds with her mind. She sighed and then sat in the back, closing her eyes. She quickly nodded off as the car silently drove towards the church on the hill. She didn't remember waking up. Nor did she remember walking inside and finding herself in the familiar hallway of the cabin. Consciousness suddenly flooded in her mind, along with the noise of chatter and liveliness. She rushed forward, delighted by the voices she heard. She stopped suddenly in the doorway to the lounge, her mouth slightly open. No words could come out that would match her happiness seeing her friends again.

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"Uriel?" Evan said, bewildered. He was the first to notice her and immediately rushed to give her a tight embrace. "Its so good to see you!"

"E-easy…!" Uriel moaned in slight pain. "I'm still sore from everything."

"Uh, sorry. How're you, holding up?" He asked, but he didn't get an answer.

"Glad t-to see you're d-doing well, Uriel!" Wrath said with a bright smile as she walked close and gave her a much gentler hug.

"Wrath… h-hi!" Uriel mumbled, unsure what to say. "I-I'm glad you're doing better too! Where's Insect?"

"She's not around." Evan answered for her. "She hasn't really been talking with anyone lately. Well she talked to us a bit. I guess she's mainly been avoiding Nate. C'mon, have a seat Uriel." He said, pulling her by the hand and leading her towards the couch. "Want anything to drink?"

Uriel just shook her head.

"You should have a drink, child. It will calm your ailing thoughts." A familiar hoarse voice came from another room. The one responsible walked in closer, plopping herself on the armchair across from Uriel. "And… it will make what we must discuss next more bearable." She added, offering Uriel a glass of a strange brownish-orange liquid.

"Madame Léstrava! Didn't expect you here. What is this?" She asked, grabbing it.

"Just some hard whisky."

"T-the doctor said I shouldn't have alcohol. This is alcohol right?"

"Oh come on girl, you're an angel. You'll live." Madame insisted. "Cheers to being alive!" She said, raising her glass.

"Cheers!" Evan and Wrath echoed, each raising their glasses in unison. Uriel hesitated, but raised it as well before she drank the whole thing in one go.

"You're supposed to savor it girl." Madame laughed.

"It tastes quite nice, though it burns a little." Uriel said with a soft cough.

"Does it burn 'a little' for you too, Wrath-girl?" Madame asked.

"More than t-that. I've never been g-great at h-holding my l-liquor." Wrath chuckled. Everyone laughed and smiled at her comment.

"Will her stutter ever go away Madame?" Uriel asked.

"Probably, what do I look like, a doctor?"

"She's cuter with it anyway…" Evan said quietly, trying to obscure his voice by drinking, but the way Wrath viciously choked and coughed on her drink made it clear everyone heard it.

Uriel smiled. The rest of the hours drifted by with the four of them idly chatting about the small happenings ever since their escape. It was unavoidable that, eventually the nature of what occurred during the mission would be brought up, but for now, everyone chose to ignore it. Everyone enjoyed the company of the others, gladly relishing in the fact that they were alive, and at least for now, in good health. But soon, the night drew by, and the late hours of the moon shone down upon them. Uriel, who had tried so hard to put everything away, to forget what had happened, as if it was nothing more than an ill dream, was first to speak of it.

"I dreamt of Constantine." She said. It was less a phrase, and more just a feeling, a thought from her subconscious that burst out. But with it, the mood of the evening shifted, and everyone realized it. Uriel tried hiding it by drinking from her glass, but it was empty. She stared at it, her arm trembling as she held it. Without a thought, she crushed it in her hand, letting the bloodless shards fall on the coffee table.

Madame Léstrava sighed. "I warned him. I warned both of you that fate would be cruel if you go down that path. Now he's gone, and all that remains is sorrow and grief."

"And…" Evan began, fighting hard to hold back his tears. "His funeral."

"You didn't have it yet?" Uriel asked, surprised.

"No. We didn't have his body, So we waited for you to wake up."

"We've prepared things for a while now. We can have it as early as tomorrow if you'd like." Madame said.

"I don't… want it." Uriel answered, curling up into a ball as she laid against the arm of the couch. "I don't want anything anymore… I just want… to float away." She said plainly. Her voice was empty of any emotion or emphasis, and her eyes were tearless and numb.

"Uriel, please. I loved him just as much as you did. He was more than a brother to me. I'll… never forget what he did to save us. He deserves as much. He deserves this closure, and the knowledge that we will carry on the hope that he had in us. Its what he would have wanted." Said Evan, wiping away the tears from his eyes.

"But… what about what I would want?" Uriel said with a trembling echo in her voice. "I… fought… I… gave in to my demonic nature, embracing its power, I killed Aramia… I wounded Asmodeus, I saved everyone… but I couldn't save him, why? Why is he not here, drinking and celebrating with us, laughing at your jokes and wincing at the pain in his scars? What did I do wrong? Why did I fail the most?"

"Nothing." Madame said, her voice wrack with melancholy. "Life is cruel. You can make the perfect choices, and still lose. Uriel, if you begin blaming yourself for his death you'll never move past it."

"I don't… want to move past it…"

"Not now maybe, but the demons that killed him are still out there, and they've already moved past him I assure you. The Hydra himself will want your head for what you did to him. Are you going to let them do as they please, or will you find them and put them down like the dogs they are?"

Uriel's sadness faded away for a brief moment, realizing that Madame had just thrown her the perfect safety rope. A path, a mission to focus on that would help her overcome this grief. It was still too early to make any rash decision, the scar on her soul still too fresh to be ignored, but the first seeds of this new zeal began to take root. Evan seemed to notice Uriel deep in trance, and decided to intervene.

"Whatever the case, we shouldn't decide life goals when we're in the depths of despair and also drunk off our asses." He said. "Let's decide things like that another time."

"Cheers t-to that…" Said Wraith in response. She was completely wasted, nearly half-asleep as she burrowed her face in the armrest of her chair.

"Very well. It is late, let us go to sleep." Madame Léstrava said, slowly standing up.

"C-can… we have Constantine's funeral tomorrow, Erika?" Uriel said meekly. "The sooner we have it the sooner I…" Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish her statement.

Madame sighed. "Very well, who do you want to come?"

"Just… us… those that knew him I suppose."

"Alright. I'll call people and let them know. See you tomorrow morning at around ten. Goodnight!"

With Madame's departure, Evan promptly took Wrath to bed in her room, and then began cleaning up the cutlery in the lounge. Uriel wanted to help him but felt stuck, frozen. She just watched him work, and anytime she tried doing anything, he just smiled warmly and told her not to worry. Defeated, she pulled herself up on her crutch and began going to bed.

"There's a dress for you in your wardrobe." He told her before she left. "I picked it out for you, should be appropriate for tomorrow. Goodnight, Uriel."

"Goodnight, Evan." She said, quickly going to her room and collapsing on the bed in a dreamless sleep.

The next morning came all too soon. It was as if she blinked, and already the wispy rays of morning sunlight began to peek through the blinds. The ache and exhaustion of life clung to her. She sighed, knowing what the day brought with it. Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled towards the wardrobe, finding the dress Evan told her about. She then carried herself on her crutches towards the bathroom to wash herself up first. After she emerged, she quickly put on the black dress, seeing how it looked on her in the wall-mirror. She clipped Katherine's yellow hairpin into her hair and then paused, staring at herself for a moment.

Just as she resigned herself, preparing to go, her eye caught on something on the shelf. Constantine's music box was there. Her heart sank as she reached for it with trembling hands. She sat down on the floor, leaning against the bed, and opened it. A quiet, sad melody began to play as the dancer within the box began to spin. A melody for the broken-hearted. A melody that cut through her attempts to be strong in the face of what had happened. A melody that unleashed all the pent up sorrow and despair from her heart. Uriel burst into tears, letting everything flow out without anything held back anymore. She screamed as she cried, yelling out against the world itself so that all the great and wicked Gods could hear her mourn. She did not know how long she cried for, only that soon the rays of morning passed, and the dull grays of the afternoon lolled on by. Her crying got quieter after a while, but she did not stop until a familiar silhouette appeared in the doorway.

"I figured it was too early, that you wouldn't come." Evan said sadly.

"E-Evan? I'm so, so s-sorry!" Uriel tried saying as she wiped her face clean.

"Please, don't be. I told everyone to start without us." He said, walking over and sitting down beside her. "We can go later, just the two of us. Does that sound good?"

Uriel nodded. Seeing her trying to clean her face, Evan offered her a pack of napkins.

"I just… couldn't go." She said after a while. "I couldn't bear burying him."

"Me neither." Evan sighed. "I can't… believe I lost both of them. Both he and Nikolai… my dad too…"

"Your d-dad?" She asked, wondering when he learned this truth.

"Yeah, Insect told me what happened in Gausville. Don't worry I've made my peace with it by now… Being alone in the world feels… strange." He said, but quickly he turned to her with a brave smile. "But, I'm not truly alone. Not really. I still have you, Wrath, Insect is pretty great too. The people here are nice. Nikolai's still out there somewhere too. If Katherine intends to save her then maybe… just maybe. Heh, who knows! Maybe my dad escaped the city before she blew it skyhigh… that'd… that'd be nice…" He rambled, trying not to let the tears fall from his eyes.

Uriel could not bring herself to tell him the truth, not at that moment. It would be too cruel to snuff out the last shard of hope he had. So instead, she nodded agreeingly. "M-maybe… just maybe."

"This place is great too, Doesn't even feel like the world just ended." He added.

"It is, we're lucky we found these people and they accepted us."

"I noticed you have a pool table in the lounge. You play any?"

Uriel nodded. "Yeah, Constantine and Insect taught me how to play. We played on occasion after our training."

"Ah you motherfuckers, so while me and Wrath were eating gruel and getting beaten to shit by demon guards you were lounging around playing pool huh?" He said, trying to be as serious as possible despite his sarcasm flowing through. Uriel still fell for it however.

"N-no!" She protested, her face sinking. Evan bursting into laughter immediately made her sigh with relief. "Bastard!" She said, and as an apology he wrapped his hand around her, pulling her close for a side-hug.

"Oh man, your face. It reminded me. Constantine and I were in highschool once, one of our dumbass classmates brought a fucking spray to school right. He told us it was hairspray, but he seemed all giggly about it and really insisted we use it. Constantine and I tried pushing it on the other, and eventually he caved." Evan kept laughing heartily. "That shit was grade A pepper spray. I'll never forget his face as his skin started burning!"

"Pepper spray?" Uriel asked, intrigued and amused.

"Yeah! Its a self-defense weapon! Spray it on an attacker and they'll be crying on the floor in seconds. Shit stings like hell. The dumbass brought it to school, thinking it would be funny. It was! But poor Costy's face was swollen the rest of the week." Evan said, chuckling at the memory. Even Uriel joined in, laughing alongside him. Her room echoed with the sounds of their gleeful laughter, a moment of levity amidst all the sadness.

But the moment soon passed, and as it did Uriel noticed something new about Evan's outfit. "Is this… his coat?"

"Yes." Evan nodded. "I took it, repaired it, and painted it red. I… wanted to preserve a part of him."

"Red…" She said, eyes twinkling with sadness once again. The memory of the coat stained red by his blood resurfaced in her mind, but she quickly pushed it away. "I'm glad you're honoring him… It looks good on you!"

"It really does." A new voice called from the doorway. They both turned, and found Sean holding a decently-sized box in his hands.

"Hello Sean." They both said.

"Evan, Uriel."

"How was the funeral?" Uriel asked, her voice trembling sadly.

"It was, alright. Madame said a blessing, Wrath then said a few words, then Insect signed a few more with Damien translating and he lastly added a few things as well." He began. "I expected not to see you there. Please, if there's anything I can do for you Uriel, let me know, I'll be available anytime."

"I will… thank you Sean." She said with a soft nod.

"Now then, Evan." He said, turning and kneeling with the box in his hands. "I have something for you."

"What is it?" He said, suddenly curious.

"A gift… from Constantine. I finished it for a while but I wanted to wait until after his funeral to give it to you, it seemed appropriate."

The three of them unwrapped the box eagerly, and stood back in bewildered amazement once they unveiled what was within. It was an arm prosthetic. One that matched the flowing and elegant sculpt of Uriel's metal leg, but it was much larger, bulkier and heavier, with many subtle gears and moving parts to it. The hand at the end was intricately designed, the way the chrome metal sheets and plaques were shaped giving it an almost skeletal appearance. However, unlike Uriel's dark colored prosthesis of silver and black, Evan's was painted with shades of fiery red and streaks of white between the lines of chrome. Sean carefully lifted it, ready and excited to help put it on Evan's stump.

"Its a good thing you're so buff, this thing is quite a bit on the heavy side." He said as he began applying soft pads to Evan's arm, tying the straps and attaching mechanism in place.

"H-holy shit!" Evan shouted enthusiastically as he got used to his gift. As he moved his upper arm in and out, the metal seemingly obeyed, moving at the elbow much the same way a normal limb would.

"It looks amazing!" Uriel added with excitement as well.

"It is! Uh, I mean, thanks! I can't wait to show you all the cool stuff about it." Sean began, adjusting his glasses. "Obviously you can't control the actual hand with your muscles, but the fingers are adjustable, and lock in place. So you can grab things with it, hold stuff, and even turn it into a fist if you need to, and believe me the weight of that thing will knock out someone flat."

"Hah!" Evan burst out, unable to contain his glee at having his arm restored. "That's… that's just fuck, I can't believe it. I don't know how to thank you!"

"Don't thank me. It was your friend's idea. In fact, your friend's idea is where the main feature of this prosthetic comes in. Please, allow me to demonstrate." Sean said, carefully grabbing Evan's arm and showing him one especially well hidden trigger on the prosthetic. Once clicked, the machine instantly whirred, with his mechanical hand folding downwards before sliding into the bulky forearm, hidden from sight. In the next instant, the end of the prosthetic adjusted, becoming sleeker and more aerodynamic as a weapon slid out, replacing where his hand used to be. Both of them recognized the weapon right away, from the many demonic runes on it, the flowery design, and the aces of spades engraved on its hilt.

"The fucking Death Rose?" Evan said, eyes wide. He noticed that the weapon's dull black color had been given a fresh coat of paint. Now, the flowers bloomed with a striking crimson, and golden highlights lined the edge of the pistol.

"Yes!" Sean shouted in excitement. "See, before the mission, Constantine allowed me to study it, and after many painful tests, I concluded that the main so-called 'vein' of the thorns always sprouts in the same space to draw blood from the wrist of the user. So, I designed this prosthetic in a way that instead of it stabbing your wrists, it will stab into one of numerous available and reusable vials of blood!" He said, and immediately continued rambling on before the others could say anything. "You can fill them up days, weeks, months in advance and always have them ready. You can even carry more if you want! The vials are easily removable see if you lift… this… here."

"Here?"

"Yes, just like that. So if you do somehow run out during a mission, you can quickly stab this needle here and drain your blood with it. Lastly, if the vials somehow all break, you see this tube running throughout?" Sean continued.

"Uh-Uh."

"You can insert that in you somewhere with the same needle and it'll drain your blood directly into the weapon when firing, as if you're pulling the trigger on the weapon as usual."

"Please, don't ever say 'insert that in you' when referring to large tubical objects again. Just keep telling me to stab myself with them instead." Evan laughed, and Uriel also giggled at his joke.

Sean leaned back, joining them in the laughter. "Right, right. Sorry I've just been working on this for months and… I… wanted to make something for you, in honor of your friend. Something he'd be proud of. He…" He turned to look at Uriel. "...Along with you, Uriel, saved my life that night. But not just mine, more importantly, you both saved my son's life. And for that I can never repay either of you. I may not have known him as long as either of you did, but I am still nonetheless just as devastated that he is gone."

"He would have loved this, Sean." Evan nodded, smiling from ear to ear. "Believe me he would have. Hey look Uriel, now we're matching!" He said, turning to her and bringing his arm closer to her leg.

Uriel laughed and smiled back at him. "We should… go thank him? For everything?"

Evan nodded once he realized who she referred to. He quickly stood up, and helped Uriel up as well. Sean quickly joined them, but stood aside and waved them away. Before they left the cabin however, Uriel quickly got something from her room that she nearly forgot.

"What is it?" He asked her once they met in the hallway.

"A promise I need to fulfill." She told Evan.

"Of course." He said, opening the door and letting her walk out first.

The two of them walked slowly through the grass, not along the main path. After the first few steps, Evan offered Uriel his elbow. She grabbed onto it and pressed herself tightly against him, wrapping her left wing around him. The walk was not very long, and soon, the two of them made their way to the memorial behind the church on the hill. Uriel stopped once she saw it. It was a simple but tall gravestone embedded in the ground before the largest oak tree. With a trembling hand, she reached down to his grave, pressing her forehead against the cold stone. She could not stop herself from crying. She no longer cared to hide it however, as Evan knelt beside her and let her lean against him, holding her close. He too began crying. At that moment, it was as if the sky began to cry with them, as rain finally fell upon them. The two of them knelt before the grave, uncaring of the cold drops that fell along with their tears. After a long time of silent, painful grief, Evan was first to stand. He wanted to help Uriel up as well, but she refused. Instead, she began digging away the wet dirt in front of the gravestone. Evan watched her take out a flower, a single lavender flower that she buried into the ground. Its purple petals became that much more intense under the intense rain, shining all the brighter surrounded by the gray and green. With that, she wiped her hands against the grass, and accepted Evan's help. Before leaving, both of them took one final glance at the stone, reading the engraving on it.

Here we cherish the memory of

Constantine Sancthos,

Abysswalker, Slayer of Silence, and Proud Hunter of Venandis.

May the comforting Light of your Hope save and protect those dearest to you,

even in Death.