Gabriel did not release her hand. Not even when the wind used broken languages to speak, not even when the air was growing thin—like the world was holding its breath.
It was 11:56.
They sat on the bench under the peculiar blue moonlight, its light falling on silver shadows that jumped when their gazes were off them. The stars twinkled like traveling slow eyes. Groaning like an old sea boat, the bench creaked under their weights. However, he wrapped his arms around her.
Margo pointed to one of the stars shining too white. "That one," she said. "Has the face of a dagger."
Gabriel leaned back his head. "You always pick the violent stars.".
She smiled weakly. "They're honest. The fine ones lie."
Gabriel leaned back in the grass. His white hair glowed weakly under the moon. "Lie with me," he whispered.
She did.
The sky was above, bruised and velvet. The stars throbbed like wounds.
"That one," he indicated, "is Na'alya. It's the Star of Bound Promises. In my world, if you listen long enough, you hear it say something."
"What does it say?"
He was quiet a moment. Then softly: "That some promises are too heavy to keep."
She shivered. "You always say things like that. Why?"
"Because I've broken more promises than I've kept."
They were silent.
The stars moved. Or maybe the world did.
Far away—
Sally was running.
Her feet slammed against the cracked tiles of the Station of Mercy, a place where even light dared not linger.
She was a skeletal shape in the fog, red gown dripping and ragged. Shadows regarded her out of doorways, benches, corners.
She pushed one of them aside. "Did you see him?" Her voice was glacial ice.
A shape of darkness waved, tendrils quivering. "He stole a girl. They went to the Portal under the old worlds."
Another shadow growled. "The child of fire and sorrow.".
At last, she came to the edge of the Station, where the Grandmother sat—enveloped in folds of skin and mist.
Sally fell to her knees. "Where did he go?"
The Grandmother gazed up at her, her eyes stitched shut. "To love. To revolution. He crawled into the box of bone with the girl. You are too late."
"No," Sally spat, standing. "I am never too late."
She disappeared in a burst of smoke and fire
11:58 PM.
Gabriel and Margo lay still. Her fingers curled around him.
But her eyelids drooped. The stars dissolved into darkness. The rustle of the wind was the stillness of a mother's buzz.
She fell asleep.
And in her dream—
Blood smattered her dress.
Venice stood before her, mouth open in a scream, but no one made a sound. Margo's hands were crimson. A knife in one. The scent of her brother's laughter in the other.
She screamed as she thrust. Again. Again.
And then—
She was awake, gasping for air.
The bell had sounded. Once. Then twice. And twice more.
Midnight.
The sky was halved. The moon was bleeding. The stars were extinguished.
Gabriel still clasped her hand.
"Gabriel…" she breathed, racing heart. "Let go."
He didn't. His eyes were unnaturally bright.
"You'll stay with me forever," he said, voice not quite his own. "I won't let go. Not again."
She tried to pull away—but couldn't.
His grip was iron. Unnatural. The strength wasn't his.
"Let me go!" she cried, struggling.
But the smile on his face stretched wrong.
From the old slide behind them, a voice echoed—his voice.
"Don't believe him!"
Margo turned.
Another Gabriel. Standing in the slide. Pale, breathless.
"That's not me! It's my brother—MIKE!"
The imposter-Gabriel next to her spun around, his face grinning from ear to ear, and spat, "Snitch."
He cut her with a jagged piece of glass. Blood sprayed the bench. Margo screamed and collapsed.
Above, the actual Gabriel fell, tackling Mike. They rolled across the lawn in a tangle of snarling bodies and screams.
"MARGO, RUN!"
She stumbled, holding her bleeding arm. The world was shattered.
She reached the portal but as she stepped forward, the ground collapsed.
She screamed, spiraling—a tunnel of frozen time and endless spiral. Her body drifted, weightless. A dream, a nightmare. A mirror of infinity.
And then—a hand.
Huge. Ice-cold. Marble-like fingers.
It held her.
Pulled her out.
She was no longer on the slide. No longer in the starry world.
She was in Gabriel's Parents' Creation Land.
The sky was glass veins and traveling constellations. The earth, moist bone and flesh.
Margo cried. Her dress ripped. Her flesh white. Her bleeding hand.
Two silent guards pinched her arms. She screamed and kicked, but they dragged her down a hallway of blood to a room of black stone.
A dungeon.
There were skulls stuck in the walls. Some cracked. Some screaming. No windows. No door.
They pushed her in and shut it.
Darkness was all around her.
She crawled to the corner and wept.
Out of the blackness, a voice spoke.
"You kissed him," it said. "That is the oldest sin."
It was Sally.
Her voice was soft, but it shook.
"You took what was not yours. You lured him into humanity."
"I didn't!" Margo screamed. "He wanted—he chose to—"
"NO!" Sally shrieked. "He was my child. Our creation. He was perfect. Until you."
Margo hugged herself harder. "He's not yours. He's not a god. He's just… he's just Gabriel."
"You don't know what he was created for. And now." The voice fell to a whisper. "Now the price must be paid."
Footsteps. Slow. Heavy.
A door—somewhere out of sight—creaked open.
Margo shivered.
"Bring her to the Circle," Sally commanded.
And two other shadows joined them.
The very last thing Margo saw before the bag was pulled down over her head—
—was Gabriel, in chains.
Bleeding. Wide eyes.
And still staring at her only.