Lightning sits tall, spine a steel beam, eyes bright with fervor. “I said nothing because the truth was not mine to tell. It was not time for me to reveal it. I would have been told so otherwise.”

The General’s frown deepens. Unused to being on the wrong end of need-to-know. Their words come out sharper than usual, syllabled hard enough to cut fruit. “You are soldiers under my command. Your first duty is to report such things.”

“Our first duty,” Lightning says, “is to a higher power. The seraphs and the archangel are under Hir jurisdiction. Or have you forgotten that they are gifts from the Larex Forge? Have you started to take them for granted?”

She slips into this mode so easily, her path oiled by her memories of prophecy as a child. It pleases Misery how well their respective upbringings have prepared them for their roles. Their destinies so clear in hindsight. In truth, they kept their secret between them because they liked it. The intimacy of their shared deviancy. But it feels right to explain it like this. An explanation truer than truth.

Misery says: “The Larex Forge has dominion over everything, but most of all over these gifts Zie has bestowed upon us. We beckon to Hir call, and no one else’s. This,” she says, leveling her gaze directly at the General, “is something you should understand. Are we not all servants to the same cause?”

Silence descends upon the room. The two accused, absolutely unapologetic. And why shouldn’t they be? Have they not secured the greatest victory Angelsteeth has seen in all its years? Instead they’re being reprimanded like children with their milk teeth still attached. This sensation is familiar to Misery, but this time she will not stand for it. This time she has the force and fury of cosmic righteousness on her side.

Finally, the Duke sighs. “She’s right, Wolf. This has gone beyond military jurisdiction. I think you know what needs to be done. You’ve resisted bringing Imogen on for a week, but I think it’s time. The Church has to get involved.”

The General folds their arms, paces, struggles with their warring instincts. It is true that they started the ball rolling down the hill. Now that it has gained so much momentum they can no longer control it, they are uneasy. The nature of the military soul is one that prizes discipline and known outcomes above all. Deeply at odds with what faith commands. And yet they are two sides of the same coin.

Finally, a deep sigh. “I cannot deny what has happened today. Nor can I hide it for long. Our long-term enemies have been vanquished. A new enemy, one we should have feared, was instead destroyed. Not only should the Church get involved, so should the Throne.”