Uriel knelt before the Shrine, fighting to calm his thoughts and his heartbeat.

Jeremiel had died. Mere minutes later, the Cascade he had carried with him had gone off here in Rome itself, centered right atop the Basilica of the Faithful Martyr.

Over twenty thousand troops, including some of the most fanatically faithful and devoted soldiers and mages of the Church, along with their instructors, had been reduced to baked glass with everything else under the unstoppable power of the Cascade. Stone and concrete had run like water before being baked to shining perfection, and all that remained of the Basilica and the training grounds, barracks, storage areas, and offices about it was mounds and more mounds of glass.

The heat had been enough to reach a hundred feet underground, collapsing and then further melting the tunnels below. It had turned the area into a great crater of malformed, frozen glass and crystal streaked with impurities and strange energies where the magic of those who died had interacted with the Cascade.

But there were no souls. Not a single one, despite their faith and devotion to the Church. They should have been caught by the power of the Church, captured to be made use of, perhaps in another Cascade, but there had not been a single one.

It was a horrendous disaster. The Cascade was known to be a weapon of the Church, and to have it go off here could be decried as a terrorist attack, but it also meant the Synod was incompetent and could not secure its own weapons.

As the Synod was screaming and staring at the Cascade destroying its best troops and all their equipment, Jeremiel’s wing of the Synod had been emptied of life, painted with blood while dazed employees of the Synod on the other side of the doors stared dazedly at the catastrophe. Before the Cascade was done, every single being in that wing of the Hall of the Synod was gone, with only copious amounts of blood left behind.

They had done it again!

He didn’t know who had done it, although he could suspect the Golden Hag. But how? How could she enter, evading all their security magical, mundane, and scientific, kill everyone with no alarms being sounded, and then exit just as quietly? Everyone knew she and her brute of a man could not use magic, and that they killed things with a hammer, a sword, and those lethal yet unimportant firearms they sold.

The capabilities of a killer who could avoid the senses of multiple Sages and kill Archangels so untraceably and quickly had to be at a level equal to or greater than his own. The thought made him shiver, made him wonder why the killer hadn’t simply picked them all off, and wonder what the true motivation of those behind the Slayer of Angels was.

The attack on Rome had come just after another 'uplifting' moment from the Undead Hunters doing battle in Egypt. The low-born rabble had achieved another momentous feat: not only had they destroyed a second Pharaoh’s Pyramid, they had somehow blown apart a Triple Mirage of The Great Pyramid and its sisters, scarring and shattering the stones of parts of Khufu’s monument to vanity, and those of his subordinate Pharaohs!

The spillover from the feedback had also slaughtered tens of thousands of undead in the immediate area, adding to a monstrous toll the Undead Hunters had taken many leagues away at the already-damaged Pyramid of Sahur. Even the Sphinx, ever on guard in the area, had been charred and blackened by the rampant wild energies!

Their success and the impotence of the Church of Light was shaking the faith of the public and the authority of the Church, the Synod, and the Mage Association itself. The latter was on the verge of tearing apart completely, and if it fell, so did the Magic Court, and with it the last of the Synod’s overarching legitimacy in the world.

Warnings of the loss of support of the Church in Egypt were now being soundly ignored. Thousands of mages who had learned Light Magic from the Church were now going to get their Stars purged of it, all to satisfy the old thing in the Sahara and hoping the High Emperor would spare them once it was time. They were doing so alongside equal numbers of Dark Mages, some of them reluctant to give up their magic, but others only happy to be rid of its influence and the doom it held for them.

He honestly did not know if an ex-Dark mage was acceptable to the Light, and really, he did not care, nor did it matter. The simple fact was that they were obeying the demands of Coralost, of the Brute, the Hag, and Healer Fae, and it was benefiting Egypt that they did so!

The Acropolis had long gone from reluctant ally to cool neutrality to open support of Coralost, its Healers active in Egypt... and many of them with the Light and Dark Elements both joining to and ministering to those in what were now being called the Crystal Crucibles, where mages went in, lost an Element, and yet emerged from the places stronger than ever!

He’d seen the reports on breakthroughs. Fully half of those Adepts and Mages who had Purged themselves had advanced to the next Tier, including those who should have been years past being able to do so.

The Archmages who had done so had found their Wills whetted by the pain like nothing else they’d experienced in this world, and found the hints of a path before them they’d thought lost forever... and if not, that they could reach Great Archmage if they but tried, as the tedium and will required was nothing compared to what they had already gone through.

They were not the Dark Curia. Accuse them as he liked, there was not a hint of Dark Magic among them. There was only their dealings with the Great Beasts, which instead of inspiring rampant mistrust and accusations of them, had somehow become their greatest strength and an asset.

The Lady Fae carried around the Wills of Emperors! Such Tokens, bearing even residual power, were incredible prizes, and she carried ones with active Wills around casually and constantly!

Going after her meant pissing off Imperial Beasts! Whoever did so was going to die, and likely all their friends and associates, too! The Imperial Beasts did not negotiate and did not hold back. If they could not kill her and conceal who had done it, Rome itself was likely to perish, and if not, then everything around it would be reduced to nothing, likely most of Italy buried in ice, drowned in the sea, or burnt to ash.

At this point, if she could be killed, it would be a price worth paying, he knew. The Lords of Light did not care about incidental casualties; they only desired obedience and results. If innocents died, so be it. They should have been stronger.

A Light ignited on the altar before him. A point became a line, a triangle, a square, and continued adding sides and angles in crystalline, glittering perfection, until a prismatic not-circle glittered and spun before him in a unique Light that belonged solely to his masters.

The Hierophant of the Church doubtless suspected that their mutual masters contacted the Archangels more than he, but he was a mere mouthpiece and figurehead, his powers borrowed, his will barely his own, and his competency and effectiveness as an agent of the Lords of Light very limited.

“URIEL,” the emotionless, inhuman voice rang from the Hedral Circle, and he bowed further.

“I am here, Lords Ihovah!” he responded, instantly and firmly, banishing all stray thoughts.

“WHAT NEWS OF ARCHANGEL GABRIEL?”

Uriel took a deep breath. The girl’s rebellion against the triumvirate that dominated the Synod was looking very, very suspicious now, as was the loss of her Wings... and the fact Lord Ihovah was asking about her meant she was being concealed from them somehow!

“She refuses to return to Rome, and has evaded those who we have sent to escort her hence, Lord Ihovah. We have reason to believe her Wings have been completely destroyed, but we do not know if her reluctance is shame or betrayal at this time.”

There was a moment of silence, and then a swirl of Light that seemed to ring out, yet the sound was only of the soul, not of the ear. Uriel stayed motionless in its wake, even his thoughts stilled and silent.

“HER WINGS ARE INDEED GONE,” the emotionless voice of Lord Ihovah informed him. “SHE HAS SHORN HERSELF OF THE DESTINY THAT WAS MADE FOR HER. IT SEEMS THAT WE MUST CHOOSE ANOTHER.”

Uriel’s mouth went dry at the news. Gabriel had indeed betrayed them?! How? Why? Had she discovered something she was not meant to, perhaps in the Underworld during her contest there?

And then he realized what that really portended, and his heart sank instantly.

Gabriel’s potential as a mage had been even higher than his own! She was younger than he was, and very reliant on the Wings and the power they gave her when going up against foes who were well beyond her skill, especially the ill-fated Chairman of the Asia Magic Association, whose machinations had ended up sending her into the Netherworld itself!

That potential was why she had been chosen to bear Gabriel’s Wings, always gifted to the most talented Synod mage of their generation. Only this, this had been different...

This was the time of the returning Messiah, the Savior, the Avatar of the Lords of Light, who would deliver Earth from the hands of the Dark Mana and the Netherlords, and it had been Gabriel who was chosen to serve as that Avatar!

Many of the lesser Archangels would happily have considered Gabriel being chosen to be the greatest possible honor of her life. As the Avatar of the Lords of Light, she would be mightier than any Archangel had ever become, possibly a rival to the High Emperors of the world themselves!

In any event, the conferral was also the foretold beginning of the fated End Times, the conflict of Light and Dark that would decide the future of the whole planet!

If Gabriel was not available, who would they choose?

Uriel felt his heart sinking. He had long known that his master was not benevolent, merely pragmatic and practical, would adhere to a Contract. His talent had been great, even before becoming an Archangel, but accepting the status had taken him all the way to the apex of power in Human society, one of the mightiest figures in the world, and even Beast Emperors below the High Emperors would not ignore him easily.

But as an Archangel, his soul was already at the mercy of his Lord. He could only bow and await Ihovah’s judgement on who to pick.

“SEND MICHAEL TO US, AND KNOW THAT THE DAYS OF PROPHECY ARE UPON YOU!” Ihovah told him, and the Hedral Circle unspun in the same manner it had formed, eventually vanishing back into a point of light.

Uriel slowly released the breath he had been holding. Michael was also one of the Synod’s leading triumvirate, as powerful as he himself... but older, his potential finished and realized, while Uriel could still grow.

His Master was going to make a powerful vassal stronger, while leaving himself to gain yet more strength on his own, possibly so that he would become the sole master of all of surviving Humanity in the future!

He could not hide the relief in his heart. One way or another, becoming the Avatar was a death sentence, for at the end, the Avatar would have to return to the realm of the Lords of Light, which was basically the afterlife. Uriel had much to do, and was certain that with success he would have the lifespan to reign over Humanity, the sole power of this world, for ages!

As to whether or not Michael would die and the Avatar take his body, or be powered-up to become the Avatar, it was no concern of his. In the end, he would remain behind, and who, in the end, could possibly succeed against the Lords of Light?

He merely had to serve as the Avatar directed, and see what became of that...