“Oh, it’s what you’d expect—breezy, quiet, and a smidge terrifying… but also mildly invigorating.” I nod my chin at him, eyeing the space where his wings should be. I wonder what color his wings would be. “Maybe you’ll understand what it’s like one day.”
“Centuries from now, I’m sure.” He scoffs. “So, you must have been a Guardian before being a Watcher, right? Did you enjoy being a Guardian?”
I tilt my head in response, unsure of how much I should share. “I did. My assignee was close to my age, which made it simpler to connect with her.”
“Did you know her before you passed away?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I wonder how different the experience would’ve been if you had chosen someone you knew,” he says, taking in a deep breath. Little does he know, I often wonder the same myself.
He huffs a puff of air and holds out his right hand, staring at the ring. His skin, no longer swollen and red, glows as brightly as it did before. “Mind telling me what dark, cursed magic my body consumed just now?”
I suppress a smile. “It wasn’t dark magic. In fact, it was light magic—the magic of our Archangels.”
He nods, biting his lip. He inspects the ring again, grabbing it with his opposite pointer finger and thumb. He fiddles with it, twisting it. When he attempts to slide it off his finger, though, it doesn’t budge. For a split second—so quick I nearly miss it—sheer panic crosses his features before he masks his fear with a convincing amount of calmness. “So, I can’t take it off, meaning it has to have some sort of divine purpose. Let me guess: this ring is like a magical probation bracelet.”
“Exactly,” I say. “This ring will prevent you from being able to teleport to the land below.”
“Predictable. I’ve seen enough movies to know a magical probation bracelet when I see one.” He drums his fingertips on the tabletop and lets out a long sigh. Then, he rises from his seat and strolls over to the wall, eyeing all the books and artifacts. “Well, now that we’ve taken care of that, I guess it’s time to get to work. This place is a mess.”
Yet another piece of his freedom was stripped away only moments ago, but rather than sulking, he presses forward effortlessly. He asks over his shoulder, “How about we start by taking all the books off the shelves and placing them in the center of the room until we can determine how we’ll organize them?”
“I’d rather decide how to organize them now before we begin moving them,” I say, still seated, pulling out my leather journal from my woven knapsack and a—you guessed it—feather quill pen. I flip the journal open to a blank spread to plan this out.
“Well,if we’re concerned about time management, it makes more sense to take them off the shelves first and execute a battle plan after.” He spins toface me.
“We have all the time in the realm, Kai. I’m not concerned about how long it will take. The top priority here is efficiency.”
He raises his hands in defeat and shrugs. “Fine,youcan start thinking of a master plan to organize all this junk. In the meantime,I’llbegin removing the knick-knacks and old scrolls. I’ll wait to deal with the books. Let me know when you come up with a plan.”
I scoff, and he salutes me mockingly. I gaze down at the empty page before me and begin to formulate a plan. He turns back toward the shelves, grabbingartifactsas if they’re nothing more than toys.Knick-knacks, in his words.
Hours pass, and although I’ve settled on a plan of action for the records and artifacts contained here, we’ve accomplishednothingtoday. The archives chamber is in more disarray than it was before we entered this morning, which is no small feat, I might add.
Books and artifacts are sprawled across the floor, making it challenging to navigate through the chamber without nearly tripping.
I grew exhausted of dealing with my wings bumping into various objects, so I tucked them inward. Tucking wings is more straightforward than it sounds—angels with wings can tuck them in at any time by concentrating hard enough and forcing the wings to bend at their will. Unlike most people, wings are good listeners.
When I mentally ask my wings to flutter away, they comply and contort like magic, appearing smaller in size, nearly entirely hidden by my frame. I often tuck them away before bed—I’ve always enjoyed sleeping on my back, and tucking them away is the only way I can do that comfortably.
Kai’s jaw practically hit the floor as he watched me tuck them earlier, exclaiming he had no idea wings could be manipulated in such a way with a mere thought.
Nearing the end of only my first day, I already dearly miss being a Watcher. As a Watcher, I never finished a workday feeling unfulfilled. Monitoring so many Guardians kept me busy. When I wasn’t busy, I could simply slip away to read a book and return home to my favorite fictional worlds and characters.
Now, despite being surrounded by books, I’ve never felt farther away from home.
Focusing on the upper level, Kai is using a library ladder to de-shelve items on the opposite side of the round chamber near the entrance.
I hate to admit it, but removing the items first wasn’t a bad idea. I’ve been working on assembling the artifacts and scrolls he’s removed so far into sections on the stone floor, based on chronological order, and taking note in my journal of the year each item was created. He discovered some fascinating artifacts relating to mythological creatures. I make a mental note to revisit those records later—I’ve always found Greek mythology riveting.
Hearing heavy footsteps ascend the staircase to the archives, my eyes drift to the entry.
“What’s up, Matt?” Kai calls from atop the ladder, sliding down carelessly to greet his mentor. He pats his shoulder, tilting his head. “What are you doinghere?”
“I just wanted to check on you. Yesterday was a shit show. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” He shakes his head and runs his hands through his brown hair. He glances at me apprehensively, then nods his chin and tosses me a sorry smile. “Hey, sorry to see you here, too.”
“No one is sorrier than I,” I call back. Matt and I have known each other for a long time. He’s always been friendly to me. I don’t know if I’d go as far as to call him a friend, but we’re certainly not on bad terms at all.
