Returning to Earth, Gabriel and Raphael materialized in a secluded corner of the Intramuros district. The transition was seamless, unnoticed by any human. Gabriel's first priority was confirmation.
"Is he here?" she asked, her voice low.
Raphael gave a single, sharp nod. "The Watchers confirm he entered the Cathedral. He has not yet emerged."
Gabriel smoothed the front of her suit jacket, a small, habitual gesture. "Good. Bring the car around. Park it near the entrance."
Raphael bowed slightly and strode off in a different direction, blending into the flow of tourists. Gabriel turned and walked with purposeful strides toward the ancient church.
Inside the confessional, Cain had just asked his desperate question. "What if I can't? What if I can't change anything?"
The priest's voice was a soothing balm. "If you believe you cannot, then place your faith in the Lord. Believe that He will provide the strength. Follow your instincts, and let His will guide the rest."
The words were a generic comfort, but in his exhausted state, they were enough. Cain murmured his thanks and pushed open the door of the confessional. He stepped out into the quiet nave.
Behind the lattice screen, the priest watched him go. The man's eyes, which had returned to their normal brown, followed Cain's retreating back with an unreadable intensity. As Cain pushed through the heavy doors into the afternoon light, a faint, crimson glow flickered once more in the priest's gaze before fading completely.
Walking away from the Cathedral, Cain felt a fragile sense of relief. The priest's advice had eased the immediate panic, but a deeper conflict churned within him. Change the trajectory of my life? He didn't want a new trajectory. He never asked for any of this. He just wanted his old life back.
But then he remembered his old life. The crushing silence of his house. The meaningless routine. The ghost of Amelia in every empty corner. The constant, dull ache of being stuck.
Then another image superimposed itself: Lucifer's smile. Her bewildered wonder at scrambled eggs. Her fierce protectiveness. The impossible colors she had splashed across the grey canvas of his world. Did he truly want to go back to what was "normal"? Or had that life already ended the moment he slammed on his brakes for a naked woman in the road? There was no going back now. The only choice was whether to keep stumbling forward in fear, or to finally turn and face what was chasing him.
His ears began to ring, a faint, high-pitched whine. Distracted by his thoughts, he didn't see the figure until he walked directly into her. The impact was solid, unyielding. He stumbled and fell hard onto the stone steps.
He looked up, blinking.
Gabriel stood over him. She looked down, her expression one of mild surprise, and extended a hand to help him up.
"Gab?" he said, taking her offered hand. Her grip was firm, shockingly so. He expected to have to pull himself up, but she lifted him to his feet with an effortless strength that made his own muscles feel feeble. A flicker of confusion crossed his face.
"What are you doing here, Cain?" she asked, her tone casually curious.
"Just… ended up here," he said, brushing dust from his pants. "Needed to rest. Think I lost my car. Was about to find a ride home." He glanced back at the Cathedral, then at her. "What about you? What brings you to the Cathedral?"
"Just passing through," she said smoothly, tucking one hand behind her back. The moment her fingers curled out of sight, her pinky finger turned a sickly, mottled grey, solidifying into stone. A wave of agonizing pain shot up her arm, but her face remained a perfect mask of polite interest. "My driver mentioned he wanted to stop in for a moment. I was waiting for him."
Cain accepted the explanation with a nod. "Well, I should get going."
He started to walk away, but her voice stopped him. "You said you lost your car. That is quite a distance to commute. My driver is here. I can give you a ride home."
He turned, surprised. "You sure?"
"Of course." She gave him a small, professional smile.
Inside the quiet luxury of the limousine, Cain was silent, staring out the tinted window at the passing city. The usual rhythm of their conversations was absent.
Gabriel watched him from the opposite seat. "You are unusually quiet," she observed. "That is not like you."
Cain slowly turned his head to look at her. "Gab… what would Amelia think if she knew I wanted to change my life? Would it be… wrong if I started to see her in someone else?"
A spark of genuine interest lit in Gabriel's violet eyes. A knowing smirk played on her lips. She leaned forward, poking his shoulder playfully. "My, my. Has our Cain finally found a new girlfriend? Do tell."
He shook his head, a faint smile touching his own lips. "No, it's not like that. These past few days… a lot has happened. I feel like I'm standing at a crossroads. Part of me wants to just face whatever's coming. But another part is screaming to run back to being ordinary. I just… I don't know if I've really let Amelia go, or if I ever will."
Gabriel felt a strange, unwelcome twinge in her chest at his raw honesty. She leaned back, crossing her arms, her expression softening into something almost sisterly. "Then choose what your heart is pulling you toward. Amelia would want that for you. She would hate knowing you were trapped because of her. She would want you to be happy."
Cain looked at her, his eyes searching hers. "Why? Why would she want that?"
Gabriel's face broke into a wide, playful grin. She raised her hand and gave him a very clear, very deliberate middle finger. "Because she loved you, you dickhead."
For a second, they just stared at each other. Then Cain let out a short, surprised laugh. Gabriel joined in, the sound rich and real in the quiet car. The tension broke, and for the rest of the ride back to his house, a comfortable, familiar silence settled between them.
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Back in the now-empty Cathedral, the priest Cain had spoken to stood alone in the shadow of a pillar. His eyes shifted once more, the brown irises dissolving into pits of glowing crimson. He stared into the deep gloom of a nearby alley.
"The Mark is active," he said, his voice a dry whisper that carried an unnatural weight. "The angels turn on each other."
From the darkness of the alley, a voice answered. It was not a sound heard by ears, but a pressure felt in the mind, a scraping of void against thought. "Good. Prepare the others. Find him."
The priest bowed his head, the red light in his eyes gleaming. "Yes, my lord."