Fallen Angel

Chapter 23.1

The Devil was the last person Gabriël expected to come to his aid. Lucifer stepped out from the shadows with his sword drawn, fully armoured in a black leather suit with dragon scale details. His raven hair was hastily pulled back, but he still looked imposing. A true warrior who was not to be underestimated.

"How the hell did you find me?" Gabriël strained to keep the water shield up.

"The amulet I gave you," answered Lucifer. "I reached out because I needed to discuss something and sensed you were in trouble."

"Do you expect a thank you?"

"I expect us to fight now and to talk later."

Lucifer instantly moved to attack Death head-on as Gabriël dropped to his knee, unable to hold on any longer. He looked up and witnessed Lucifer's blade pierce through Famine's mangled body as the Horseman took the blow meant for Death. The ghoul collapsed on the wet ground, sinking into the mud.
The Red Knight fought Lucifer next, but centuries of imprisonment had slowed him, and the Devil took advantage of it. He parried every strike and drove War back, forcing him into defence. Pestilence fired arrow after arrow as he attempted to assist his brother, but it was no use. Lucifer dodged them easily, never taking his eye off the swordsman in front of him. The blood dripping from War's armour mixed with the rainwater and streamed down the mountain in crimson currents. 

Whilst the other Horsemen struggled against the Prince of Hell, Death did nothing. The skeleton in the ashen cloak watched them with empty eye sockets — only them. The ones fighting. Not the Archangel who snuck behind a tree and once more used his powers to control the water.
Instead of creating another shield, Gabriël made the water bend to his will to hold Famine's haggard corpse grounded. A chain of water wrapped around his leg, sucking him deeper into the bloody mud, making escape impossible. Gabriël then focussed on trapping Death. But holding down a skeleton was easier said than done.
The Archangel's arms were up to his elbows in mud. Bloody water spattered his face. He let his wings grow, drawing from their power, and mixed the water with the earth to create a chain strong and long enough to wind around the skeleton's bones.

A sudden loud splash made Gabriël look up to see what was going on. Lucifer had disarmed War, throwing his opponent's sword to the far side of their arena, where it sank in the rainwater. He then launched himself in the air, twisting his agile body over the Red Knight, and stabbed the Horseman in the back as soon as he landed on his feet. As War fell to his knees, Gabriël formed a smaller chain from the one he already made. It shot out of the ground, wrapped around the defeated foe's throat, and pulled him headfirst into the mud.
Lucifer drew his sword from War's back and turned to face Pestilence. The White Archer had paused, eyes wide with shock at seeing two of his brothers defeated. But with the Devil threatening to strike, he quickly regained his senses and shot every arrow he had left. Lucifer's laugh echoed each time he fended off a shaft. And with every arrow shot, he stepped closer to his last opponent.

Upon seeing what was happening to the other Horsemen, Death finally looked around, finding one missing from the battle. Yet the skeleton was too late. A muddy chain shot up from the ground and wrapped tightly around Death's ashen cloak as if it were a ribbon on a Christmas present. Gabriël revealed himself, panting, his arms smeared with dirt and blood. The tip of his wings dragged in the deep-scarlet waters, red splashes tainting his ivory feathers.
Death fell apart. The many bones sticking out of the cloak attempted to inch away. Gabriël grinned. The Archangel had expected the skeleton to try something like this. He sent a wave of water underneath the leader of the Horsemen and rose to the air, arms and wings stretched out. A box-like shape of water, blood, and mud emerged to compress Death's bones as it carried them up, away from the ground.
Two hollow sockets settled on Gabriël as a screech reverberated across the battlefield. The box almost fully enclosed Death, but there was still a small opening — enough for a skeletal hand to fit through. Gabriël flew higher to avoid Death's grasp as the hand catapulted from the opening. But he was too late. A sharp pain pierced through Gabriël's shoulder as the bones clutched the tip of his left wing. The toxic infection spread like wildfire, and the feathers of his wing changed colour from their shining ivory to brownish-grey. He plummeted to the ground.