Sigillum ex Fatum [UNDER EDITING]

Chapter 9.

A year later, I felt that my learning had stalled. I devoured tome upon time, book after book. Now, that's not to say it wasn't fascinating. Quite the contrary; learning about God, learning about how The Surface worked. Metatron had seemed to have taken a liking to me, and I was shown areas of the library not many knew existed, nor were allowed access to. 

Whenever I emerged from the bowels of Metatron, arms overflowing, Mikha'el always appeared downright tickled. We never outright discussed how I had found what I had. The same bemused expression always came to my ward's face, a look mixed with wonder, confusion, and, to my surprise, admiration. We would then go to some corner of the library, and we would pour over what I had found. 

Through it all, I kept the blue book on me at all times. That, too, we never discussed. At night I would stay awake, hidden beneath my blanket. It wasn't like I had a bedtime or something ridiculous like that; I was a free man (well, angel), able to come and go as I pleased. However, I felt strangely protective of the book. I felt like it was dear to me, something that I should keep safe and hidden. 

I didn't always read it. In fact, I would go weeks sometimes without cracking open the spine at all. This pause always happened after I had read something downright traumatizing, always about how to control or otherwise manipulate an angel. 

Or, how to kill them. 

When an angel cries, I learned that some of their grace—their very essence—was shed through the tears. To have an angel's grace, well…It was dangerous, to say the least. The blue book was filled with spells and incantations used for trapping an angel. Rituals for how to bend an angel to your will. Magic to tap into the angel's mind, raping it of any and all information you wanted. 

It was that, the idea of someone prying into my brain, was what scared me the most. At first it was the idea of being largely possessed, forced to carry out whatever task the spellcaster saw fit. Yet even that, while terrible, if that happened to me I would feel no remorse; anything I would be forced to do would be against my will. In my mind, I could not be held accountable. 

But the idea of someone looking into my thoughts. Of knowing my wishes, my dreams. Or, as I consumed more and more knowledge, of someone having access to everything I had learned. 

It was a truly terrifying prospect. 

"Today is the day," Mikha'el declared one day, seemingly at random. 

I had cocked an eyebrow at him, not lifting my head from the book I poured over. 

"Come, Ulcinin. We will continue this tomorrow." 

Baffled, I bookmarked my page and blindly followed Mikha'el. 

I was surprised when I realized just how late at night it was. Metatron appeared to be empty, a situation I had never seen before. Curious, I swept my head side to side as we walked. It was downright eerie. 

"Ready?" Auriel asked as we walked past his desk. 

"Yes," Mikha'el said. 

That day was a day of firsts. Auriel, in the year I had known him, never left his post. So you can imagine my astonishment when he swung open the waist-high door that allowed access to his desk, ambling down the stairs. It made sense the desk would have stairs, but a part of me sort of assumed Auriel was really that tall. However, once he began walking with us, I realized he was the same height as Mikha'el. 

"Metatron," Auriel said as we approached the door, "I shall return." 

It always surprised me when Metatron showed himself. Like right then—the two massive eyes appeared right above the doorway, glaring down at us.