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It had happened during the only training session he’d agreed to give her.

Until then, Rowan had been perfectly unaware of the reason Lucifer was so feared in the depths of the endless hells that other underworld denizens gave his territory a wide berth.

In Lucifer’s mind, there were only two modes of combat. On or off. It didn’t matter that it was supposed to be just training. It didn’t matter that Rowan was only ten years old and barely had control of her magic. Lucifer saw the threat of a dagger finding its way to the white plumage of his wings and he reversed the spell.

It had only missed because Lilith had been on the sidelines of the open field behind their imposing black castle. She knew her husband. Had warned Rowan and Lucifer both that a spar was a bad idea. But Rowan insisted it was the only birthday gift she was interested in.

Lilith phased Rowan out of harm’s way and into her arms before she began a mad dash toward the safety of the castle.

Over the mother of all succubi’s shoulders, Rowan had watched as her godfather, who had always been happy to play dolls and tea party with her anytime she asked, combusted into a cloud of darkness that billowed out over his lands. Darkness that contained screams and smelled sharply of blood.

Her image of the soft man turned upside down, she hurled her lunch.

It was the first time she knew true fear.

Now, sixteen years later, the feeling of his magic curling around hers and tugging her in the middle of a phase sent her heart rate skyrocketing.

Instead of the grassy Eastern Elven Kingdom grounds, Rowan landed on an abandoned, moonlit, white-sand beach.

It was abnormal. Even with the sound of the lapping waves hitting the sand, she could tell not all was as it seemed. She tuned in her senses, concentrating on figuring out why everything felt so off.

Then she saw it. A colossal oddity of a weeping willow intertwined with the branches and leaves of an oak tree. She shot into the sky, her breath catching. It was the same as it had been in her vision.

It was a tiny island. Behind the beach, ten acres jam-packed with thousands of species of flora flourished. Each limited to one specimen of each.

There wasn’t a sign of a single animal. Not even an insect.

The magic of the island was just as strange. Sluggish and stale against her skin, it felt nothing like the effervescent magic she was used to. They were still on the world she called home. She could feel the familiar ley lines that attracted so many mystics to this realm set over her head.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she realized she hadn’t felt them on the sand.

She glanced down at the beach, only to realize the island was moving. The difference was so small she would have missed it if she hadn’t been concentrating on taking in every nuance of the place.

Her jaw clenched, and she touched back down next to her godfather, whose eyes locked on what she’d mistakenly assumed was a mound of sand. As the moonlight shifted like a spotlight, the white plumage of the stained wings became clear.

Rowan blinked between the wings to her godfather. “Those aren’t yours, are they?”

His wings popped into existence behind him.

Unsure of what was happening, Rowan waited for him to talk, but he remained silent.

“What are we doing here, Uncle Luz?” She broke after only a few minutes of unbearable silence. She could see the place affected him. Tension lined his shoulders, and his hands and jaw were clenched.

“Uzziel.”

It was the name he’d called when he’d seen the spectre. Rowan eyed her godfather uneasily. Had his voice broken uttering it?

“You knew who that was?”

“Bring forth the staff.”

She’d never known him to be so short. Concerned by the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his chest, Rowan held her hand out, conjured the wooden weapon, and handed it over.

She still couldn’t believe the lack of curses on the thing. As if it had never been part of ending hundreds of lives.

He held it horizontally as he ran a finger over the marks. “These etchings are the names of all the archangels that existed when our creator gifted her the staff.” He said as he brought it up to her eye level, pointing at one full of curves and sharp points. “This one is hers, right next to mine.”

Rowan’s eyes slid to the wings. “Those are hers, aren’t they?”