Babbling excitedly, Azure glanced at the four faces crowded around him.

He tapped on a page. “This one.”

“I don’t understand,” said Sam, scratching his head.

“You don’t have to,” said Crow. “Just swing your mighty sword in the name of God and you’ll be fine.”

Hannah squinted, her thoughts stalling in disbelief. “‘And hark, shall he cry, “lend me thy aid, for I am set upon by a Massive Killer Machine”’?”

Tutting, Azure pointed again. “No, the one above it.”

“‘Behold, for as the uncertain heart beats back the rhythm of sorrow, the latticework warrior will deliver holy radiance unto the jaws of the fallen’?”

“Think about what this means; perhaps we can stop Armageddon while it’s in progress!”

“How?” asked Sam, perplexed. “What does any of that mean?”

“You can assume holy radiance means the toothpick on your waist,” said Crow. “As for how, well, through a horde of demons and hell-beasts.”

Hannah squinted at him. “Speaking of, didn’t you say all the angels and demons just wanted front row seats to Armageddon? They seem pretty involved to me.”

Grimacing, he sucked his teeth. “Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Moreover,” said Sam, “what of the prophesied war between Heaven and Hell? As Biblical as this seems, it doesn’t add up.”

Crow waved it away with a sputter. “Don’t believe everything you read in a storybook. The demons, though, they’re definitely in front row seats. To the kind of show where the audience throw fireballs at the stage.”

Azure had a misty sheen of sweat across his forehead. “You see, the thing is, we rather intended to prevent Armageddon before it began, so we didn’t want to worry you.”

“Then what’s the endgame here?” she said.

“They want to take over the planet. Hell on Earth, as they say.”

Her jaw dropped. “Why?”

Crow said, “imagine getting kicked out of the house you’ve lived in for millions of years because you asked too many of the wrong questions. You’d be pissed off, too.”

With a gasp, Andrea gripped her daughter's shoulders. “I’d never do such a thing!”

He shook his head. “That’s not the point.”

“Avenge themselves on Heaven by ruining its creation?” said Sam. “And no hope of an army to assist us?”

“Even if they wanted to,” said Azure, nostrils flaring, “it takes them two millennia just to process the form for a new flaming sword. The entire universe will be ended once our armies are massed.”

Hannah blinked. “You have a flaming sword?”

His stare was bitter. “No.”

Palpitations wracked her every nerve; this was always the most exciting part. “Hordes of demons, then?”

“Plus the devil himself,” said Crow.

Sam drew his sword, the overflowing light stabbing her eyes. “Then I shall smite him.”

Rushing over, he halted him with a hand on the arm. “Yes, alright, put it away; there’s nothing to smite here, sunshine!”

Azure’s nose wrinkled. “Still, the prophecy is rather unclear on what we must do. What is the wavering heart?”

She swallowed. There were a few ideas, but none she wanted to share with the group. Not yet. Not until she knew.

Narrowing his eyes, Crow snatched the book. “Latticework warrior? What the Heaven is that supposed to be?”

Her jaw cycled for a second, and she smiled. “I know exactly where we need to go.”

***

Was she doing the right thing?

When she saw Alex alongside his father, the miserable expression accompanying ‘bonding activities’—usually inclusive of commanding demons, bringing about suffering, and polishing his armour—she couldn’t help but wonder.

It had been a snap decision, one made in the throes of her self-doubt. She’d already learned to admit when she was wrong, and had gracefully accepted the existence of God, despite her long-held beliefs.

It was an unacceptable existence, though.

So she had thought, the warmth of another person wrapped within hers. That intimacy had, just for a moment, granted her a sense of peace and belonging.

But, as always, it would never last long. Aside from her sister, warmth had always drifted away; and even Jess had a sword of Damocles hanging over her head. It was only a matter of time.

Was he right? Was she just trying to avoid responsibility for her own problems?

No. She was taking it. Once the Almighty was dispatched, Satan had promised to return half the world to how it was—a shit compromise, all things considered, but so was most of society.

Jack’s words replayed over and over in her head.

He had let go of her hand after no small amount of convincing. But eventually, it would have happened anyway. She wouldn’t delude herself; it was clear as day for both Jack and Hannah.

They hated her. And why shouldn’t they? She had no idea how to express herself, and always ended up standing on somebody’s toes.

Or their face.

Thinking about it now was useless. Alex had gained a world to rule, and from what she saw, Satan wasn’t too bad a father—certainly a rung up from her mother.

She no longer had a choice but to see it through.

Even if her heart wrung itself out when she watched him exit the pick-up.

***

Rolling his left wrist, Jack stared at his arm for a second. The brace coming off was understandable, since Lizzie could have removed it, but the lack of pain wasn’t.

In all the commotion, he hadn't noticed his complete lack of discomfort: was this an angel’s miracle?

He drew his sword, testing his grip. You wouldn’t have even been able to tell it was sprained.

“Jack,” whispered Lizzie, leaning in. “I need ye to buy me some time.”

He furrowed his brow. “For what?”

Nodding towards Lydia, she said, “she’s no’ the only one we’re gonna have tae fight.”

“You’re getting ready to kill Satan?”

“No’ kill him. Just send him back to Hell.”

His eyes bugged. “You’re gonna open a Gate? On your own?”

She nodded.

“Ain’t that dangerous?”

“Between the two of us, I think ye’ve got the more dangerous job right noo.”

“Alright.” Advancing, he took his stance, facing Lydia from across the cracked and bubbling road.

“Hello again, Jack,” she said with a sad smile.

“Lydia.” He crept forward, keeping his position defensive. “Still going through with it, then?”

“Yes.”

Clicking his tongue, he scowled at her; she looked away. He said, “far be it for me to tell you what to do, Friedrich, but I can’t let this go on.”

Her arm raised, she strutted over to meet him. “I suppose there’s no avoiding this, then, is there?”

“What about Alex?” he said, forcing himself to keep going onward. Every step was like moving through cement. “Is this really worth what you’re doing to that kid?”

“He’s fine,” she said, stopping.

“Sure about that?” He raised the blade over his shoulder, ready for a rush. His heart beat from his feet to his skull, every nerve twitching; his body was trying to turn around and run.

But he needed to bring her back to her senses.

With a roar, he charged, swinging his sword down at her head. Shifting aside, she reached up and grabbed the blade.

He started. “What the f*ck?”

A metallic cracking surrounded him, shards of metal flying as she snapped it.

His mouth hung open. “This is supposed to be unbreakable…”

She tossed away the tip, eyebrows raised. “Evidently not.”

Growling, he thrust the fragmented blade at her neck.

With a harrumph, she batted it aside, drawing back her fist and driving it into his gut.

It took him from his feet. The air evacuated his lungs, his diaphragm seizing as he coughed and gasped.

“Stay down,” she said, pivoting to walk away.

He reached out, gripping her ankle like a vice as he wobbled to his feet. Leaving the sword behind, he unleashed a mighty swing of his fist; she ducked under, shoving him away.

As he teetered, he heard a wistful sigh escape her lips. “You can’t beat me, Jack,” she said.

Reorienting himself, he grit his teeth. “You’re not even using magic.”

She looked down. “Of course not. I don’t actually want to hurt you.”

He scoffed. “Makes a change.” His hefty steps echoed from the tarmac as he ran at her, arms wide in an attempt at a tackle.

Catching him, she spun around, arresting his momentum. With a grunt, she kicked his legs out, the two of them tumbling down in a tangled heap.

He struggled, his skin slick with sweat. As he tried to escape, she linked her fingers with his, pushing his arms down and pinning him to the floor.

No matter how hard he writhed, her grip was iron. He panted. “How are you so strong?”

She smirked. “Are you surprised?”

He was. No-one that tiny had any right to overpower him so easily. Groaning and shouting, he managed to break away, flipping so his back was to her stomach. Her arms snaked around his chest, constricting his breath.

“Very well,” she said, hefting him into the air.

The thoughts left his mind. What the hell was she doing?

He screamed.

His body sailed over hers in an arc as she fell back, his neck and shoulders crunching into the tarmac; pain burst through his entire body, which felt limp. Already pounding, his head had decided to do an imitation of a centrifuge.

One!

Though his brain told his body to struggle, there appeared to be a traffic jam along the relevant pathways.

Two!

She was still holding on. There was no way he’d let himself lose without getting through to her.

Three!

He sagged down, landing spread-eagled on his back as Lydia rose.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” she said, glancing over to where Lizzie leaned against the car, deep in concentration. “Give it up, Elizabeth. It’s too late.”

The ground roiled. Buildings shook and concrete released deafening cracks, the world seeming to crumble around his broken body. Lizzie glowered at Lydia, face drawn and damp, but said nothing.

At this point, the vibrations were enough they were basically bullying the Richter scale. Jack wondered if his organs would blend into a smoothie.

His arm twitched.

A figure surpassed the gate, but he didn’t stride through it.

He strode over it.

A hulking creature at least fifty feet tall surveyed their battlefield, taking careful note of Lizzie’s activity. He had a crown of horns rising from his head, which was covered by a great golden helm; the same armour adorned the rest of his body. Runes and symbols glinted with menace in the sun, contrasting his ashen skin and deformed features. With a sick smile, he regarded Lydia.

“I see you have faced obstacles,” said Satan. “Is it taken care of?”

“I was about to finish it,” she said, eying Lizzie. She seemed no closer to completing her Gate.

Satan waved it off. “No matter. The IGKA is completed, and the war shall begin. Leave them; their spirits are broken.”

His entire body was agony, but he stood anyway. It was slow, and rickety, but he made it to his base and sliced the devil with his glare.

Then he laughed. He couldn’t help it; even the Prince of Darkness, the original evil overlord, had failed to read the list.

Satan snarled. “What are you laughing at?

Jack sneered. “Are you kidding? You come here and mess up my town, dole out misery, and tempt my friends into your Nietzschean little cult. Yeah, you’re in control, but don’t think you’ve won. Don’t underestimate this planet’s people. You can break my sword, my body, or even my heart, but you’ll never break my soul.”

With a curious demeanor, Satan chuckled. “Is that so?”

An armoured foot rose, its shadow dwarfing Jack as he swallowed his heart. It was too big. Too fast. There was no chance he could avoid it.

He closed his eyes.