Aisling adjusted the rough veil that covered part of her face and head, grimacing as her fingers brushed against the fabric soaked with sweat. The heat seemed to seep into every pore of her skin, clinging to her like a parasite. She lifted her eyes, squinting against the merciless glare of the sky. Black, except for a burning orange strip stretching just above the horizon, a cruel sun seemed to spit flames. She groaned inwardly. How could a sky so dark harbor such suffocating heat?

She found herself regretting the icy rain of the day before. The pounding of the drops on her skin, which she had found unbearable, now seemed like a lost luxury.

She forced her attention to her feet, lifting her knees higher than she thought necessary to move through the loose ochre and gray sand, partly made up of ashes. Her muscles burned, and her breathing felt much more labored than usual. She inhaled deeply, trying to find a rhythm that would suppress the constant fatigue, but the seed beneath her skin responded painfully.

Ahead of her, War moved with a steady, relentless pace, his immense, imposing figure heavy with steel, seeming to completely ignore the hostile environment. He wore full armor, his massive sword strapped to his back as though it weighed nothing. The contrast between his sturdiness and Aisling's visible exhaustion only heightened the young woman's irritation.

As for Uriel, she flew above them, her golden wings cutting through the air with grace and power. Occasionally, she would descend slightly, sending brief gusts of cool air that offered a faint relief to Aisling. Still, no words broke the heavy silence that hung over their strange trio.

The young human gritted her teeth, unable to dissipate the anger bubbling inside her. She still didn't understand War's stern mood toward her. If it was because of the zombie attack, she found his reaction excessive and unfair. The Cavalier's coldness only fueled her resentment, and she felt her frustration rising with every step.

The landscape around them offered no comfort. The desert stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with irregular dunes that had nearly swallowed up all the remnants of human civilization. Occasionally, angular outlines of concrete or fragments of metal emerged from the sand, like the bones of a dead giant. In the distance, black stone hills loomed, menacing and offering only a faint hope of shade.

She knew that crossing this area would have taken one or two hours at most with Ruin, but she refrained from pointing it out.

Suddenly, Uriel descended with a powerful beat of her wings, then soared upward in a graceful turn before briefly disappearing into the heights. This movement caught Aisling's attention, and she lifted her head to follow the angel with her eyes. A flash of admiration crossed her mind, despite herself.

She turned her gaze to War, whose heavy footsteps hadn't slowed for a second. Taking a deep breath, she decided to break the silence.

"Have you known each other for a long time, you two?" she asked, her voice rough from the dry, burning air.

War took a moment to respond, as if he hadn't immediately realized she was speaking to him.

"Several eons now…"

"How did you meet?"

War cast a fleeting glance at her, his expression closed and unreadable.

"Hmmm… it's a long story."

"I have all the time in the world," she shrugged, brushing a strand of hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat.

War slowed his pace, adjusting his rhythm so she could catch up to him. She gave a curious glance at his stern, marked face, surprised by the initiative.

"A long time ago," he began, his eyes fixed on an undefined point ahead, as if the memories were playing out before him, "I was sent to the White City to destroy a secret weapon. A direct, brutal mission, like so many others. An easy one."

"Easy? I would have thought the angels would have posed a greater threat than this. I thought their society was characterized by a militant obsession with the righteousness of its cause and a fervent belief in the rule of law, order and justice."

"This is the case. Angels live by the precepts of the Codex Bellum, which provides an immensely complex code of laws that rule every aspect of angel society, even strict regulations regarding romantic relationships."

"Can't they love freely?"

"No. Honor and duty come first."

"It's not incompatible though..."

War answered nothing and Ainsling knew better than to insist. He continued his tale.

"I carved my way through their defenses until I reached the chamber where the weapon was kept."

He paused, and Aisling could feel him weighing each word carefully. He continued, his voice oddly calm, almost meditative.

"At the entrance to that chamber, there was a sentinel. A young girl. Still in training. Her instructor had probably thought that position would be the safest, far from the fighting."

He let out a sigh, a mixture of weariness and amusement.

"She was the youngest and most inexperienced angel I've ever seen. She had neither the strength, nor the endurance, nor the skill to face me. But she was there. Brave. Determined…"

He stopped for a moment, and Aisling caught a brief smile forming on his lips, as if he were savoring the memory.

"And also… incredibly impatient. Stubborn. Reckless beyond reason."

Intrigued, Aisling furrowed her brows as she watched War display something other than his usual austere, cold expression. This brief spark surprised her almost as much as the story itself.

"She stood her ground valiantly," he continued, his voice carrying a faint trace of respect, "but she was no match for me. She hadn't yet learned to fully harness her gifts or measure her strength."

He turned his head slightly toward Aisling, as if to ensure she was still following.

"When she charged at me, I saw her courage... but also her inexperience. I turned her blade aside at the last moment and struck her with the flat of my sword. A single blow, enough to take her out of the fight."

Aisling raised an eyebrow, surprised by the detail.

"Why not kill her?"

War let out a soft grunt, as if the answer was self-evident, yet his tone was more serious than she had anticipated.

"There's no honor in fighting an enemy who poses no true threat. It's meaningless. It only sullies a warrior's integrity."

His words were steeped in a conviction as unyielding as stone, and Aisling sensed that he wasn't merely justifying his past actions but stating a core truth of his being.

"You yourself were far wilder and more reckless back then, Horseman..." Uriel interjected, her tone dry, barely masking her irritation.

Aisling, struggling to trudge forward under the blazing sun, flinched slightly at the angel's sudden intervention. She glanced up, surprised to see that Uriel had subtly lowered her altitude to eavesdrop on their conversation. Her normally pale and serene cheeks were tinged with a faint blush, revealing her genuine vexation.

War, for his part, merely let out a brief, genuine laugh—a rare sound from the Horseman. He glanced up at Uriel, the faint smile on his face a striking contrast to his imposing demeanor.

"Didn't I tell you I'd wait for you to gain more experience?" he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Our more recent duels were already much more entertaining."

Uriel straightened slightly, her wings beating with a measured grace as her expression wavered between irritation and restrained pride. Aisling, intrigued, watched their exchange more closely. She didn't fully understand what lay between them, but she caught subtle nuances in their looks and words. An old story, brimming with challenge, respect… and perhaps something more.

"Have you met again since?" she asked, breaking the silence that had started to settle.

Uriel descended further, hovering just above the ground. She matched their pace, her wings nearly grazing the scorching sand. When she spoke again, her voice was calmer, imbued with a solemn gravity.

"I followed my lord Abaddon during the Hellguard's assault on the demons on Earth over a century ago," she began, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if she could still see the battlefields of the past. "At the time, I truly believed in our cause. I believed it was just."

She hesitated, weighing her words carefully.

"Like many, I long held War responsible for Abaddon's fall… and for the downfall of humanity. That belief consumed me. I sought justice and intended to deliver it myself. So, I challenged him."

Aisling raised an eyebrow, her eyes widening in surprise.

"You challenged War… to a duel?"

Uriel nodded, her features hard, though her gaze held a glimmer of introspection.

"I invoked the Nex Sacramentum."

"I… I don't know what that is," Aisling admitted, blinking in confusion.

Uriel turned her head slowly toward her, her piercing eyes almost intimidating. She took a measured breath, as though searching for the simplest way to explain.

"The Nex Sacramentum is a sacred ritual. A vow of a duel to the death, sanctioned by the ancient laws. When the rite is invoked, there is only one outcome: victory… or death."

Aisling fell silent, absorbing the weight of the words. She glanced at War, whose impassive expression was unreadable. Yet, something in his posture hinted at a profound, perhaps even painful, memory.

"And… what happened?" she ventured, unable to hide her curiosity.

Uriel didn't answer immediately, instead fixing War with an intense stare, as though waiting for him to continue the tale. Aisling slowed her pace, a troubling realization surfacing in her weary mind. Strife's words, once spoken with almost flippant provocation, came rushing back to her.

"You died!"

"It was better than remaining the Council's puppet… and I had faith in Uriel."

She tilted her head, watching War walk stoically ahead of her, then turned her gaze to Uriel, who still hovered beside them. The puzzle pieces slowly began to align in her fatigued thoughts.

"Strife said that all four of you… died for humanity. That's how you fell! "

Uriel blinked, her sharp gaze briefly clouded with genuine surprise.

"Is that true?"

War turned his head slightly toward her, his jaw tightening.

"The human speaks the truth, Uriel."

"But then... how can you and the others even be here?" Aisling asked, unsettled.

"Because I broke the seal," Uriel replied, her voice quieter now.

For a moment, she stood still, her thoughts visibly churning.

"I invoked the Four… I thought it simply brought your brothers and sister back to Earth, at the heart of the conflict, but..."

"You brought us back from the Abyss. All four of us," War interrupted, his tone heavy and final. "That's likely why the Council punished you… and why your kind cast you out."

The weight of this revelation plunged the three companions into a silence even heavier than the stifling desert heat. Uriel, her wings folding into a nearly defensive posture, slowly descended to the ground. She stared at the sand at her feet, her troubled thoughts clear in her gaze.

Aisling felt a wave of compassion rise within her. She stepped closer, carefully choosing her words.

"I guess we have you to thank for that, too," she said gently, her eyes meeting the angel's. "Without you, the humans who remain would already be under the control of angels… or demons. We owe you a lot, Uriel."

The angel lifted her eyes to meet Aisling's, but her features betrayed a profound confusion. She seemed to want to speak, to respond, but no words came. Suddenly, her wings beat the air, kicking up a swirling cloud of sand around her, and she took to the sky without a word.

Aisling watched her ascend, puzzled by her reaction. War placed a heavy hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention. He shook his head slightly, a silent but clear gesture: don't press the matter. The young woman nodded slowly, turning her gaze back to Uriel's silhouette, now high in the sky.

Aisling collapsed onto a piece of stone jutting out of the sand, uncertain whether it was a rock or part of the sunken ruins. She didn't have the strength to care. Every muscle in her body protested as she lifted her canteen to her lips, sipping cautiously to ration what little water she had left.

The thought of running out of water in this desert tightened her chest. Not a single drinkable source had crossed their path, and she couldn't help but wonder how War and Uriel managed. Did they even eat? Did they need to drink or sleep like she did? She'd never seen War or his brethren yield to any kind of physical weakness. It fascinated her as much as it irritated her.

Exhaustion, however, had the advantage of dulling the frustration that had gnawed at her earlier. She watched War and Uriel arguing a few paces away, clearly caught in a dispute that was escalating. The angel had returned earlier, as if nothing had happened, and shortly after, another round of training had begun—more intense than the last.

This time, it seemed War and Uriel had reached an agreement on one thing: Aisling wasn't performing the movements correctly. Too slowly, too broadly, never with enough precision. And while they dissected her postures in detail, they didn't argue for once. That should have brought her some relief, but their joint scrutiny only made her feel more crushed under the weight of their expectations. Now that the training was nearing its end, their quarreling had resumed, like a storm after a brief lull.

"That's not the proper way," War declared authoritatively, crossing his arms with his usual unyielding demeanor.

Uriel shook her head, facing him with all the determination she could muster.

"And what would you know?" she shot back sharply. "I've trained among the finest soldiers of the White City, with honor and courage!"

Aisling, still seated, watched them in silence. The tension between them crackled in the heavy air, every word striking like the clash of two swords. Eventually, she couldn't stop herself from breaking their verbal duel.

"I'll ask again, but… Are you two always this intense?" she blurted, exasperated.

Both turned toward her abruptly, their gazes converging on her in surprise. Encouraged by their silence, Aisling continued, raising her hands slightly as if to explain.

"The way you talk… it must be exhausting. You're always so… so… absolute!"

Uriel raised an eyebrow, perplexed.

"Absolute?"

"Yes! Every word you say feels like it carries the weight of an oath or a prophecy. It's overwhelming. Don't you ever stop? Don't you… I don't know… just breathe for a moment?"

War straightened his shoulders proudly.

"Our words must never be spoken lightly. An oath, a threat, a promise… the way we break silence defines us as much as how we act upon them."

Aisling raised a finger, signaling that she understood their logic.

"I see. But... do you ever take a break?"

Uriel took over, her clear voice blending with that of the Horseman.

"Our duty is constant."

"It would be a failure of our honor," War nodded, as if to reinforce her words.

Aisling glanced from one to the other, incredulous. She exhaled loudly through her nose, hands on her hips.

"You never have fun?"

The question caught them off guard. War and Uriel exchanged a brief glance, as if searching the other for an answer they didn't have. Finally, War broke the silence.

"Does killing demons count?" he asked, entirely serious.

Uriel squinted slightly, pondering for a fraction of a second before nodding.

"I'd say it does."

The response made Aisling burst into laughter. Shaking her head, she got up and stepped closer to them, still amused.

"Having fun is important. I mean… not just for the enjoyment. It nurtures relationships, it's good for us, and it even benefits others."

Uriel raised an eyebrow and slowly nodded, clearly skeptical.

"It mostly sounds like a waste of time and focus."

"I agree," added War gravely, his arms crossed over his chest like an immovable statue. "It could distract us from our mission."

"Oh, really?" Aisling looked from one to the other, incredulous, spreading her arms to gesture at the desolate chaos of the desert around them. "You think there's a risk you might forget what you're here to do? Seriously, look around. We're already in the thick of it! I'm serious. You need to let go of some of that tension, even just a little."

War turned away with a grunt, as if he considered the discussion over.

"We don't have time for this," he said, walking a few steps to suggest they should get moving again.

But Aisling didn't budge. Standing there with her hands on her hips, she wasn't ready to drop the matter.

"Really?" she challenged, a hint of defiance in her voice. "How old are you two, anyway?"

Uriel furrowed her brow slightly, exchanging an uncertain glance with War. He froze, though he didn't turn around right away.

"Exactly!" Aisling continued, pointing a finger at them. "Angel, demon, Nephilim… you've existed since before humanity was even born. And all you can think to do with your time is… fight? Seriously, you'd be doing a favor because you two might drive me insane before this journey is over."

The two beings continued to stare at her without moving, their expressions unreadable but faintly intrigued. Aisling let out a long sigh, running a hand through her tangled curls as she tried to come up with another approach.

"Just… try it. Once. Who knows, you might even like it… by accident."

War finally turned around with a massive sigh, his expression a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"What do you propose?"

Aisling did her best to hide the triumphant grin spreading across her face. She glanced around, quickly searching for an idea in the monotonous landscape. Then she pointed to a distant, solitary rock jutting slightly out of the sand.

"That rock over there. A race. Which of you, a Horseman or an Angel, is the fastest to reach it and come back here?"

Uriel rolled her eyes, exasperated, while War turned fully, looking almost offended by the suggestion.

"The answer is obvious," he growled.

"Yes, clearly," Uriel retorted, arms crossed. "It's not even a question."

However, the look they exchanged told Aisling they didn't share the same answer. Their expressions shifted almost imperceptibly, their latent rivalry sparking to life. And suddenly, without another word, they readied themselves, their bodies taut like bows about to be released. War summoned Ruin with a simple gesture, the spectral horse appearing in a flash of energy.

Aisling grinned broadly, equal parts amused and pleased.

"Perfect! Well, you know what? You've got as many tries as you want to settle this… until I catch up to you on foot. See you!"

She calmly picked up her belongings and started walking toward the rock, her pace slow but determined. She had barely taken five steps before a violent rush of air blasted past her. War, astride Ruin, and Uriel, wings spread wide, shot forward at breakneck speed, leaving her in a cloud of sand kicked up in their wake. Nimue's voice rose softly from the ring, trembling with barely-contained laughter.

"You do realize you just convinced two of the most powerful beings in creation to have a race, right?"

Aisling smirked, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

"Better than that… I convinced them to have fun."

Nimue laughed outright this time.

"They seem to be taking it very seriously."

Aisling shrugged, feigning innocence.

"Give them two or three laps… You'll see. I used to suggest the same thing to Fenja and Idris when they argued. It worked every time."

Aisling had long since lost count of how many times War and Uriel had raced back and forth while she trudged laboriously through the sand. Their figures streaked by like flashes of lightning, kicking up clouds of dust that lingered long after their passage. Yet, as she kept seeing them pass her in opposite directions, she couldn't help but notice that their usually stern and focused expressions were gradually softening.

Eventually, their racing turned into an odd rhythm, alternating between sudden bursts of speed and inexplicable slowdowns, almost as if they were toying with each other—nudging ahead by a fraction before dashing forward again. The most exasperated participant in this spontaneous game turned out to be Ruin. The spectral steed tossed its head, its hooves stamping impatiently on the ground in a way that was almost comically expressive, as though it couldn't fathom the point of such a ridiculous activity.

At last, the race ended on its own. Far behind, Aisling caught up to find them engrossed in an animated conversation, gesturing fervently to back up their respective arguments. From what she could piece together as she approached, they were debating how their mutual speed could be used as a tactical advantage in combat.

The young human rolled her eyes subtly as she passed them, an amused smile lingering on her lips. Without interrupting their debate, she simply called over her shoulder:

"I'm waiting for you, you know?"

They resumed their journey, but their discussion didn't wane. The topic naturally shifted, moving from their personal competition to broader combat strategies. They spoke of formidable enemies—monstrous beings that only creatures like them could face. Even with their fragmented descriptions, the idea of such infernal creatures made Aisling shudder. She didn't understand everything, but it didn't matter. Something had changed. A tension had lifted, replaced by a more fluid, almost natural dynamic between them. It was a fragile balance, but it was there, and for Aisling, that was enough.

The group finally reached the edge of the desert. Ahead of them, black hills rose, their rough, cracked surfaces giving the impression they had been carved from scorched material. Even the air felt denser here, heavy with an oppressive, unfamiliar energy.

Then, a monstrous roar shattered the silence, rolling over the hills like a deep, relentless warning that chilled Aisling to the bone.

The conversation stopped abruptly. War placed a firm hand on the young human's shoulder, gently pulling her back to position her behind him, his gaze fixed intently ahead, piercing the shifting shadows.

"Playtime's over..."