Sigillum ex Fatum [UNDER EDITING]

Chapter 29

As the years ticked by, so did my ever growing duties. Mikha'el came to me more and more for help. The answers he sought from me were anywhere from, "Where do you think the new peach tree should be planted?" all the way up to, "I believe we have the opportunity to wipe out a legion of demons. Our tricksters have fed us reliable information that two nights from the solstice a satanic ritual will take place, putting their shamans in a vulnerable position. They are to do the Hell gate opening at midnight in the Mesopotamia region on The Surface. Our information states the ceremony will be guarded by two Fallen, and secured with traps and sigils. Which garrison do you think would be most suited for this task, and from what direction should we stage our attack from?"

(The answer to that particular assault was thus: We would allow the trickster demons who were working as double-agents to tell the Fallen us angels knew of their plans, and were going to stage an attack. Thus they would be prepared for an assault and waste resources and manpower beefing up security at the ceremony.

For whatever reason, usually only one angelic garrison was deployed to clean up such situations. It seemed silly to me for, even though one garrison was quite large, this tactic had come to be expected. So, I insisted we deploy three garrisons, not one. Mikha'el had objected at first, declaring three full garrisons was over-kill. I counter-argued with my strategy; we would send a small team in up front and make it appear we were losing. Then, we would send "backup". In the confusion of more angels arriving, we would unleash the third wave, pinning the demons in a bulge tactic, while we sent in our own mages to stop the Hell rift from opening on the surface. The mages would, of course, have body guards, a seraphim each.

It worked. Spectacularly. We even managed to take down a Fallen that day. I'm happy to say after that win I was put in charge of most strategic military planning. I was unanimously put in charge of high-stakes military planning.)

My studies began to fall to the wayside. Not that there wasn't more to learn. There was—of course there was. However, between my patrols and military duties, I rarely had time to exhaust toward being in Metatron.

It was sad, really. For years I had come to rely on the fact that I would see Metatron and Auriel daily. When that changed, slowly but surely, I missed them. For better or for worse that ache only became apparent to me at night, right before my head hit the pillow. During the day my mind was focused elsewhere so I had no time to lament.

The more I grew the more the relationship between Mikha'el and I began to subtly shift. I'm not sure exactly when it had happened, but it struck me one day that Mikha'el no longer saw me as a student but an equal. We had been planning something mundane together, like repairing a crumbling archway or something. Mikha'el had looked at me, palms pressed against the table.

"Are you all right, Sera?" he laughed. "You look like you just swallowed a fly."

I couldn't speak. I was at a complete loss for words. He smiled and tilted his head slightly, appearing slightly worried. "What?"

I smiled, willing myself to speak. "I am just...Very grateful. For everything you have done for me."

He looked very perplexed. "It is no big thing."

"But it is," I said a bit desperately. "Thank you."

Mikha'el became solemn. He still was largely confused, but he nodded curtly. "You're quite welcome."

There were still things I had to learn, and they had nothing to do with books. One of which came to me two-fold. I awoke one day as normal. However, as I went through my routine of eating a simple breakfast of milk and honey bread with some grapes, my right wing itched. Thinking little of it, I scratched. It wasn't until later that day did I find myself scratching my wing again, rather fiercely and absentmindedly. I stopped, only to realize my other wing itched too. I scratched it.