The last dawn she would ever witness broke over the Infinite Staircase as Zariel adjusted the grip on her blade. Behind her, seven thousand celestials stood in formation, their wings folded tight against the acrid wind that rose from the portal below. None of them had been ordered to come. Every single one had volunteered. She did not address them. There was nothing to say that the sight of Avernus would not say louder. The portal yawned open, a wound in the fabric of the planes, and through it came the sound of a war that had been raging since before mortals learned to name their fears. Zariel stepped forward. Not because she was the bravest, though she was. Not because she believed they would win, though they did. She stepped forward because someone had to, and she had decided long ago that waiting for permission was a luxury the righteous could not afford. The host followed. None of them returned as they were...