Through vision that was changing colors and shifting between too blurry and too clear, Mabel stared at the Door to Hell with amazement.

It was giant—at least thirty feet tall and fifteen feet wide—and stood out starkly against the background of trees and grass that the country roads provided. Just as Mabel had suspected, the Door was open, and, through it, sparks and shadows drifted out like toxic gas.

Pushing down the memories of her time in Hell, Mabel straightened her shoulders, hobbling forward unsteadily, the venom from Nephele's bite coursing through her system and making her limbs feel like lead.

Once inside, the first thing Mabel noticed was the lack of miserable humans who had been sentenced to Hell for all of eternity, as well as the gargoyles who had kept an eye on them. Instead, the already despondent appearance of Hell looked even more melancholy without a single soul in sight.

Mabel was grateful for it, however; at least she wouldn't have to worry about being attacked while she tried to close the stupid door.

Eyeing the tall door with no small amount of dread, she maneuvered until she stood behind it, still in Hell, and leaned forward to press her body against it.

Nothing happened.

"Oh, come on!" she screamed, the utter hopelessness of the entire situation pressing down on her shoulders until she collapsed, head leaned against the Door, eyes closed, shoulders slumped with defeat.

"Don't tell me you've given up, Mabel." The smooth, rich tone of the voice had Mabel cracking open her lashes, shifting until she was looking up at the person responsible.

It was Nephele. Or, well, not Nephele; it was a woman swathed in white, with Nephele's face and a soft glow bathing her body.

"Nephele?" Mabel croaked, wondering just how much venom had gone into her bloodstream.

The woman laughed, the sound reminiscent of a million tinkling bells, and Mabel's entire body relaxed with the noise. "No, Mabel," she crouched down, "I am not Nephele. I only look like her, because she is the person you most wish would come back from the dead."

"Oh," Mabel's voice was dripping with self-hatred. "Right. Because I killed her."

With a disappointed clicking sound in the back of her throat, the woman sat next to Mabel. "You did not want to, Mabel. I know that."

Tearing her gaze from the woman and replacing it on the solid black clay of Hell, Mabel asked, "How?"

"Because I am from Heaven, of course, and we are required to know these things."

"What?" Mabel knew her eyes were wide with astonishment, but she didn't care. Someone from Heaven? "I-how, what-uh-where are your wings?"

Another laugh, and Mabel couldn't help but think that the gorgeous sound was extremely out of place in such an unhappy area. "I am not an angel, Mabel. More of guide, you might say. Or a protector."

With the word came thoughts of Aleron, and Mabel's stomach flipped over uneasily. "Protector? Did something happen to my other protector? You know—Aleron?"

"Ah, Aleron," the woman shook her head with amusement, lips lifted in a secretive smile. "No, Mabel, Aleron is just fine, at the moment. I'm here for you."

"Me? Why?"

The smile left, and the woman's expression turned sad. "You are dying, Mabel."

Looking down blankly, Mabel's half-lidded eyes danced over her own body—the gashes in her arm that dripped blood, the poisonous toxin she could feel slowly eating away at her insides, turning her fingertips purple. "Well," she mused finally, clasping her fingers together in her lap, "You're not wrong."

"No," the woman agreed with a gentle grin, "I'm not."

Releasing a heavy sigh that took more energy than it probably should have, Mabel regarded the angelic woman carefully. "I can't leave yet, you know. I have to figure out how to save everyone, say goodbye to Al, and then I can go."

"I know," she replied, "And that's why I'm here. You need more time, and I'll give it to you, but it comes with consequences."

Mabel swallowed uneasily. "What kind of consequences?"

This time the woman's smile was so full of pity that Mabel wanted to cry at the mere sight of it. "To close the Door, Mabel, you will remain on this side of it, meaning you will spend your last moments in Hell."

That didn't seem so bad. "Okay; it seems kind of peaceful here, though, so I can't say I see a problem."

"Once the Door is closed, Death and your Aleron will begin putting souls back, and those souls will come here. In your final moments, you will be surrounded by misery and anguish. They will probably try to eat you." The last sentence was said so flippantly that Mabel would have thought the woman was joking, if not for the somber look on her face.

But, she considered silently, if I don't do this, who will close the door?

With her resolve strengthened, Mabel nodded, hoping she looked braver than she felt. "Deal."

***

"I think, Mabel, that you are stronger than even you know."

Mabel managed a weak grin. "Thanks, Leora."

The woman who had come from Heaven, Leora, was—once again—settled next to Mabel, their backs against the now-closed Door to Hell.

It had been hard, involving quite a bit of sweat and an extensive amount of cursing (both on Mabel's part; Leora hadn't done either, and didn't even appear winded). Unfortunately, the energy Leora had restored to Mabel's body had been swiftly depleted, leaving her even frailer than before. Nonetheless, together they had pushed the Door closed, sealing it for what would, hopefully, be a long, long time.

"Could I have closed it by myself?" Mabel scrutinized Leora from the corner of her eye, "Be honest with me."

Leora's eyes shone with mischief. "Yes."

"What?" Mabel squeaked, "Are you serious?"

Leora grinned. "Of course not. It takes a human and a being of either heavenly or hellish decent."

Mabel's nose wrinkled with distaste. "For a heavenly being, you're a load of trouble."

"I know." Leora fluffed her hair exaggeratedly, bringing a weary smile to Mabel's pale face.

The pair settled into silence, watching as another demonic creature appeared in the plain, screeching loudly.

Mabel's eyes began to droop closed, only to snap up when Leora spoke. "Would you like to see him, Mabel?"

It went without saying who Leora was referring to, and Mabel had to hold back an immediate squeal of "YES!"

"Ye-yeah," she cleared her throat, "That would be really nice."

Leora nodded in understanding, waving a hand through the air in front of her. Golden light seeped out her fingers, blending together and creating a circle that hovered in front of Mabel. It shimmered for a moment, before solidifying into an image.

Aleron stood, hands wrapped around the neck of a wicked creature with black scales and a face like a fruit bat's. Mabel smiled softly at the sight of him, fingers twitching with the want to touch him, to feel him one last time.

As if he could hear her, Aleron's entire body stiffened, and he ripped the head off the creature in one sharp movement, tossing it aside. He turned around, as if looking for something, before reaching to grasp the back of his neck, a pained hiss escaping his lips.

His eyes widened with horrified shock and he crumpled, slamming a fist into the ground. A sharp shout was pulled from his lips as he fell to his side, his body seizing.

Mabel gasped. "What's wrong?"

Leora sighed sadly. "It's the mark," she admitted. "He can tell you are dying, because the mark is fading."

No sooner had the words left her mouth was Aleron stumbling to his feet. "MABEL?! ?!" he roared, pulling his sword from its sheath and using it to part the waters of demons and possessed humans. His movements were uneven, a limp clear in his stride, but he was still running as fast as he could.

Mabel watched him with a miserable realization.

It didn't matter how fast he went. He wouldn't get to her in time.

"Why isn't he here?" she asked, eyes shifting lazily to Leora. "Shouldn't the summoning bring him straight to me?"

Leora hummed thoughtfully. "Theoretically, yes. However, magic is a finicky thing, regardless of how powerful it is. The bond is a two-way street. You—whether it is subconscious or not—don't want Aleron to get to you. You want to spare him, and thus you released him from the bond. He can still feel you, but he cannot get to you unless one of two things happen."

Mabel's questioning gaze was enough to keep Leora talking. "Either you allow the bond to reform, or you die."

It took a minute for the words to seep into Mabel's muddled mind. "Oh," she whispered finally. "Wow. That kind of sucks."

Leora took Mabel's cold hands in her impossibly warm ones, squeezing them comfortingly. "I believe you and Aleron are of the same cloth with that thought." She turned her attention back to the image in front of them, and Mabel's gaze followed.

Aleron was panting, a hand clutching the sword's hilt as it slapped against his thigh. He came to an abrupt halt, and Mabel's heart dropped when she saw why—he'd found Nephele's body. However, Aleron didn't seem fazed, kneeling down with a grunt and placing his fingers against the blood covering Nephele's fangs.

He retracted his hand, lifting it to his nose and inhaling deeply. In the next moment, Aleron fell back, seated against the pavement with his hands clutched in his hair and his body trembling with a mix of rage and fear. "NO!" he spat after a beat, standing abruptly. "No. I will not let this happen, you stubborn girl! MABEL?!"

"Oh, Al," she murmured, struggling to keep her eyes open, "I am so sorry."

As if he could feel her life slipping away, her guardian became even more frantic. "MABEL!" his voice cracked, "MABEL! PLEASE!" He took the same path she had, probably following her scent, but Mabel could only watch with pity.

"You already know he will not make it," Leora deduced.

Mabel nodded once; it was a sharp, jerky movement. "Yes." She took one last long look at him, a sad smile tilting her lips as she thought of all the things that could have been. Then, she turned her eyes to meet Leora's. "At least I wasn't eaten."

Leora's chuckle was cut off when Mabel's eyes closed for the last time.