As the sky began to lighten the following morning, Adryel was awakened by the creak of the gates, the clatter of wagons driving through them, and the whinnies of horses pulling the wagons. She sat up and rubbed her eyes as the drivers pulled on their reins, bringing the horses to a halt beside the captives.

Tied hand and foot, they were loaded into the wagons and, once again, began the trek across the plain, this time to the mountains in the east. She recalled her first journey away from the city. She had walked then, rather than riding. She had scrounged for food and water. She had almost been attacked by wild animals.

This journey would be different.

On the first occasion, she had been cast out of the city, but she had chosen what path to take. Now, she was a prisoner, and she was given no choice. On her first journey, she had feared she would not reach her destination. This time, she feared she might, and she almost wished she would die on the way.

The pit was a shadowy, little-understood place. Stories concerning it abounded. More than a simple prison, it was often described as a place of torment, a deep hole with an eternal fire burning white-hot at its core. A dark and dismal place, it was said to be home to scaly creatures who fed on the angels who were consigned there.

It was also said that the ghosts of angels who had died in accidents or in battle-she knew of no angel who had died for any other reason-lived on in the pit, in a section separate from the others. Ramael would be there, she realized, but she would not search for him. The ghosts, she understood, were but phantoms, insubstantial, without bodies, without homes, without desire, without feelings. She would not want to see him like that.

Dropped into the pit, you had a choice, she had once been told, of facing the creatures or of stepping into the fire. Your decision was irrevocable and eternal. Even though the creatures fed on you, you would never be fully consumed. Even though you would burn in the fire, you would never turn completely to ashes.

No one really knew what the pit was like-Michael knew, she supposed-because only the very worst offenders were consigned to the pit and no one who had been dropped into it had ever returned to the city to tell of his experience. As a result, all she had was speculation and stories intended to frighten children into good behavior.

Perhaps the pit was a myth. Perhaps evil angels were simply dispatched, extinguished, vaporized. Maybe the pit was simply a grave to hold their bodies and they would simply cease to exist.

She tried to imagine non-existence, but found it impossible. One philosopher, she recalled had maintained that the inability imagine not existing was proof that it did not happen. She'd found it an attractive idea at one time, but faced with the real possibility. . .

She gulped against the knot of fear in her throat.

Michael had once been her friend. Gadriel had sent her ice for her bruised face. Surely they would not harm her. They certainly would not end her life. Surely not.

It took five days to cross the plain, pa.s.s through the mountains, and enter the woodland nestled in the valley beyond. The forest floor was covered with soft gra.s.s, the trees provided protection from the heat, and a cool breeze led Adryel to think of the palace garden and the picnics she had enjoyed there with Ramael. They rode for another day into the woods before reaching a clearing.

The wagon paused as it left the forest, and Adryel studied the clearing. It seemed to be a perfect circle, almost a hundred meters across. Smooth, black rock covered the ground. Not a tree, not a bush, not a blade of gra.s.s grew on the rock.

As her wagon left the cover of the trees and began to roll across the clearing, Adryel felt perspiration dripping down her back. The heat seemed to be rising, coming from the earth itself. She watched one of the guards take a drink of water, some of it spilling as he held the flask to his lips. The water sizzled as it struck the rock and a wisp of steam floated into the air.

She wrinkled her nose and then gagged as the odor of rotten eggs filled the air, growing stronger as the wagon proceeded across the clearing. She gasped when she glanced at the ground behind the wagon and spied tendrils of smoke rising from numerous cracks in the rock. Thick, red liquid oozed from the little holes, and rivulets ran down the sides of the small domed hill on which the clearing lay.

Ahead, Michael and Gadriel stood in the center of the expanse of rock near a large hole, their feet encased in thick, leather boots. The diameter of the hole seemed to be greater than Michael's height, four meters, she guessed, certainly large enough for several angels to fall through at once.

She recalled the many who claimed the pit to be but a myth.

This was no myth. Its entrance lay right before her.

Dariel grinned with smug satisfaction as he yanked her from the wagon.

Adryel tripped when her feet touched the ground, and she reached out to catch herself, burning her left hand as she touched the rock, and causing Dariel to smirk again when she cried in pain.

He laughed and jerked on her arm, almost pulling her completely off her feet. "This will seem pleasantly warm once you've splashed about in the lake of fire."

The soldiers herded the prisoners toward the pit. One of them prodded Adryel, poking her ribs with a long, metal pole.

"Faster, rebel."

She started forward, but was s.n.a.t.c.hed backward when Dariel did not release her arm.

"This one is mine. I'll throw her into the pit myself."

Adryel pulled against him, trying to escape.

"No, no," Dariel chuckled. "You'll get to watch the entire show. You're going in last."

He held Adryel at the back of the pack and she watched with horror, wanting not to look, but unable to tear her eyes away.

As the rebels neared the opening, their voices rose in protest, crying out in fear, begging for mercy, bargaining, promising to do almost anything to prevent themselves from being shoved inside. Their pleas were ignored, as if the soldiers who drove them toward the hole were unable to hear-or chose not to.

"You're trying to kill us," one of the angels shouted as he reached the edge and peered over. "There is no bottom. We'll die."

Michael laughed. "No. Not likely. I didn't bring you all this way just to kill you. I could have done that days ago."

"But we will die. . ."

"You have wings," Michael said. "Use them."

"Have mercy on us," several shouted.

"Have mercy. I beg you. I implore you. . ."

They began to struggle, pushing and shoving each other, scrambling to find footholds in the smooth, black surface, bracing their feet against outcroppings in the rock, wrapping their arms around the soldiers' bodies, clinging to their legs. Anything to avoid plunging over the abyss.

To Adryel, they seemed like a chaotic colony of honeybees swarming around their hive, unwilling to enter.

Suddenly, five of the rebels turned and rushed the soldiers, knocking two of them to the ground and trampling them as they rushed away from the pit. Four of them were quickly rounded up and dragged, squealing, toward the hole. The fifth one, Beliel, sprinted away.

"Go," Adryel screamed. "Run. Run."

Michael, himself, pursued Beliel, slung him across his shoulders, and carried him to the pit, while others attacked the soldiers, s.n.a.t.c.hing the poles from their hands and using them as clubs. A cheer went up when one of the soldiers was shoved into the pit. Adryel placed her hands over her ears to m.u.f.fle the sounds of his shrieks. They grew fainter and fainter, and she felt as though a pit had opened in her stomach as she realized how deep the hole must be if she could hear his cries for such a long time.

In the confusion, Adryel stomped on Dariel's foot, broke his grip on her arm, and ran in the other direction, but she only managed four steps before he caught her. He drew back his hand to strike her, but his eyes cut to his injured finger, the one she had bitten a chunk off at the Inst.i.tute, and he seemed to think better of it. She gagged and choked as his hand closed about her throat, pulling her back toward the others.

One of the rebels threw himself behind a boulder that rested nearby. It was so large that the distance around it was easily twice the size of the hole, but a guard reached behind it, fished him out, and dragged him toward the pit. His legs rubbed across the burning rock. Adryel covered her eyes when he was lifted into the air and she saw blisters oozing a thick, white liquid.

Another tried to hide, crawling under the blankets on which they had slept the night before. He was yanked from the wagon as everything inside was tossed onto the ground, and he was carted away.

The soldiers drew their swords and restored a semblance of order.

"Into the pit." Gadriel motioned to those who stood nearest to the opening. When no one moved, he lifted two of the rebels and dropped them into the hole.

"No. No. Don't push. Don't. . .No. Help me. . ."

The desperate sound of their screams seemed to rise up even as their bodies dropped out of sight. Adryel's stomach roiled with bile at the palpable and undeniable suffering encased in each shrieking plea.

One rebel stepped forward, as though willingly dropping into the hole, but as he began to fall, he spread his wings and ascended skyward. Adryel gasped as Gadriel caught his ankle and yanked him from the air, flinging him into the hole headfirst.

Gadriel prodded several rebels who refused to step forward. "Go. Go."

Surrounded by desperate cries, Adryel felt a surge of pride at the brave few who simply stepped into the hole and dropped away, while others were pushed, squealing as they dodged the metal poles with which the guards prodded them, only to discover no ground on which to place their feet.

"Move on," one of the soldiers shouted at those who hung back.

Many were lifted off their feet and then dropped or tossed through the hole. Adryel began to cry as one young female sobbed for her mother and then renounced Lucifer as she slipped from the guard's hand. Adryel took a step forward, reaching for her, but she was several meters away.

Michael then made a grab for the young angel, catching one finger and holding it until Gadriel could drop a rope into the pit and pull her back to the surface.

Adryel bit her lower lip. She yearned to be one of the brave ones. She wanted to approach the pit on her own, to step in without being prodded. She imagined herself striding through the remaining rebels with her head high. She slipped her arm from Dariel's grasp and took one confident step toward the dark, gaping hole, but the shrieks of the falling angels filled the air, the pit was as dark as Lord Lucifer's robe, and her trembling legs refused to move. Dariel laughed at her, but she was unable to move closer.

Finally, only four rebels remained.

Lucifer glared at Michael as he finally stepped toward the opening. "Don't start the celebration yet, Lord Michael. I'm not quite finished. . ."

Lucifer waved as though saying good-bye at a garden party, then he stepped over the edge and dropped away without a sound, his robe fluttering up briefly before vanishing from sight.

Michael simply watched him go.

Ami and Mia rushed over and clung to Adryel, crying. She shoved them away, and Ami lost her footing, toppling over. For the briefest moment her body dangled there with her fingers clawing at the edge of the pit. Dariel stepped forward and placed his boot down on her fingers, kicking a small pile of rocks in after her as she yelped and slipped away.

Mia fell to the ground then, seeming to faint, and Dariel used the same booted foot to roll her over the edge.

Adryel flung herself at Michael, stopping short of clinging to him the way Ami and Mia had clung to her moments before. "What will happen to us?"

He merely shrugged.

She grasped at his robe now. "Don't do this to me. Don't send me there. . .with them."

Dariel walked up behind her, and, leaning close to her ear, he growled, "You asked for no special treatment." Then he stepped around, looking down at his boot, and then to Adryel. "You're one of them. You go with them. Straight to-"

Michael held up his hand, silencing Dariel. He faced Adryel. "Renounce Lucifer, and you too may ride back to the city with us." He glanced at the young angel who had renounced at the very last moment and now clung to Gadriel as if they were glued together. He looked back at Adryel expectantly.

In the background Dariel made a gagging sound, then muttered, "Can a tiger renounce its stripes?"

Adryel took a deep breath and slowly shook her head. "I can't do that."

"Then you've made your choice," Michael said sadly as he turned away.

Dariel stepped forward and laughed as he rubbed his hands together in antic.i.p.ation before placing them on her shoulders, and shoving hard.

Adryel tried to remain stoic but she lost her balance and fell to the ground, shrieking as her body struck the black rock. Then, as she rolled away and tried to stand, she slipped into the deep, dark pit.

Adryel cried out. There was nothing but air beneath her. Hot, humid air. Above her the light was rushing away as she plunged into absolute darkness. The helpless sensation of falling threatened to overwhelm her. Faster and faster she went, farther and farther, as blistering, searing wind rushed past her face, until. . .

She remembered Michael's words, and spread her wings, stretching them wide.

She'd seldom used them before, and after a few awkward attempts to move them, she simply held them out, catching the air, slowing her descent, and, gratefully, landing on her feet.

Adryel stood for a moment, surprised to be alive. Her legs felt weak. She stumbled and cried out, a mixture of pain, fear, and relief. She breathed deeply and steadied herself. Then, she folded her wings and spun full circle.

The dim light concealed anything beyond a meter distant, but she stomped her foot and her sandal clapped loudly as she struck hard rock. She angled her face up and discovered a tiny circle of light at the end of a long, black tunnel. The only reason she could see anything was because of the smidgen light that fell through the faraway hole through which she had dropped.

Her eyes traced the dark, rocky walls of the tunnel to the point at which they spread out to form the roof above her head and the walls around her. She was in a cave.

She was grateful that the darkness was not total. When her eyes adjusted, she would be able to see and to move about and. . .

THUMP.

The cave shook as the light disappeared, and in the sudden darkness she could no longer see Mia and Ami, huddled on the cave floor at her feet. She reached out her hands to feel her way and crept toward the wall she had glimpsed a few moments before the light was blotted out.

Her heart pounded wildly as she found herself entombed in the darkness. She drew hurried, shallow breaths, imagining Michael's soldiers prodding and pushing the great boulder until it fell into place, sealing her in the pit for eternity. She licked her dry lips and whimpered. She had never known darkness this complete in her entire life. Even in the middle of the night when she had slept on the Great Plain, she had been able to see outlines of angels and scrub bushes and the wild dogs, but here. . .nothing.

Her hands flailed in front of her, and tears stung her eyes as she found nothing for support. She tripped over what felt like a body. A hand reached out and grasped her leg, a voice called out, begging for a.s.sistance. She ignored them all as she shuffled forward through the darkness. Finally, her hands touched rock.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed a faint glow coming from behind the wall against which she leaned. She stepped around a corner and found a fire burning far away in a cavern to her left, its flickering light dancing across the walls of the cave, apparently the sole source of illumination. She peered at the fire. She saw no coals, no wood, no fuel of any kind, only fire. It appeared to be almost liquid, like water, like. . .a lake.

This will seem pleasantly warm once you've splashed about in the lake of fire.

That was how the pit had been described, a lake of fire. Her face began to tingle with heat, as though burning the way it did on a summer day when she lay too long beside the stream in the garden, basking in the glory of the sun. . .a glory she would never see again.

Adryel turned away from the fire, gagging at the acrid smell of sulfur. She used her hand to cover her nose, and attempted to breathe through her mouth.

"Where are we?" She recognized the voice of one of her students, a first-year, one of the youngest. "I'm afraid," he cried. "I want to go home."

Adryel bent over and rubbed her hand across his head. "We're in the pit, Johniel. It's dark and it's hot, but we're all together. It will be all right. We'll figure it out."

Johniel curled into a ball, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, and began to rock back and forth. "I want to go home. Please let me go home."

He began to cry, and Adryel sat with him for a few minutes. Finally, she stood and looked around.

The rebels who had survived the fall sat around on rocks, dazed expressions on their faces. Many, like Johniel, were crying. Others had been injured, their moans and calls for help filling the air.

Several bodies sprawled across the cave's floor, angels who had failed to spread their wings. One was near the spot where she had hit bottom, and she could see she had narrowly missed landing on him.

Perspiration ran the length of her body, soaking her robe, too much for her to even wipe away. As she stepped away from the fire, seeking a cooler part of the cave, she scanned the floor. No scaly creatures, not here, anyway. Perhaps that part of the story was wrong.

"Adryel. Welcome," Lucifer called from across the cave, motioning for her to come. "Adryel, this is Robiel. He and his followers are old residents of-what did you call this place? Not the pit. h.e.l.l, was it?"

Robiel nodded, his eyes intent on Adryel.

She recognized the name. The rebel who had objected to the creation of the powers. She stepped away.

"Don't be shy. Come here," Lucifer beckoned again.