Interlude
The Beginning
If there was a beginning to his life, Yuri could not remember it. He had no memories of a childhood, or of the parents who might have raised him. No recollection of how he came to be. He, like the other angels, had simply appeared one day as if woven from the Light itself.
He’d been smaller then, lean and powerless.
His hair had been dark and ashy, but his wings were an unblemished white, as was every angel’s whose purity had not yet been tried.
He’d come into the world naked, his earliest memory that of standing in the Celestial Palace with a dozen others who looked as confused as he felt.
There had been a woman back then. A kind, dark-skinned angel with silver hair that framed her face like a cloud.
Yuri hadn’t seen her since that day, but he remembered her warmth and the kindness of her touch as she’d set a palm against his cheek.
He breathed easier with that touch, leaning into it as she soothed her gentle fingers through his hair.
“Welcome to Sanctuary, Yuriel.” Her voice was like a prayer, and as her lips pressed gently to his forehead, he knew who he was.
Yuriel.
He took the robes offered to him, letting this woman and her attendant dress him.
They moved with a practiced rhythm across a room full of other new souls just like him.
Most were quiet, wide eyes absorbing their surroundings.
But there was one who spoke, his voice cracked and raspy as he found his words for the first time.
“What am I doing here?”
The woman paused, surprised. It took her a moment to recover before she draped a robe around the boy’s shoulders and cupped his face between her hands.
“I haven’t the faintest clue,” she told him. “That’s for you to figure out.”
The boy flushed when she kissed his forehead, and Yuri saw then what he hadn’t noticed for himself.
Color bled into the boy’s skin at this woman’s touch, turning him from a dull shade of gray to a warm, light brown.
He glanced down at his own hands, fair with a golden undertone, and flexed his fingers experimentally.
“Welcome, Sabriel,” the woman whispered to the boy.
Across the room, Sabriel’s eyes lifted to Yuri, whose stomach pinched tight.
He felt like he was intruding on something, and yet the boy grinned at him.
Yuri glanced quickly away, his cheeks warm.
He fiddled with his hands as color seeped into the skin of all the new angels.
They were dressed and tended to, their hair brushed and tied back.
When they were finished, the woman stepped back to look them over.
There was a softness to her smile that made Yuri’s heart flutter. “Come with me, young ones,” she said, her voice a tender hush. She turned toward a grand archway leading out of the chamber, her robes trailing behind her as she gestured for them to follow. “It’s time for you to be placed.”
Placed.
The word settled heavily in Yuri’s chest, though he couldn’t say why. He followed in silence, his feet bare against the colorless floor. Sabriel walked ahead of him, small fists clenched at his sides and wide eyes darting between towering columns and the radiant golden light filtering from beyond.
The woman led them through the arched doorway and out onto a vast terrace. Yuri blinked, momentarily blinded by the brightness of the world beyond the palace. The air felt lighter there, almost buoyant, and it carried with it the faint scent of blooming flowers.
“Look,” one of the girls murmured, her voice soft with wonder.
Yuri followed her gaze. The terrace opened onto a sprawling garden, its paths winding through wildflowers and crystalline pools that glittered like liquid starlight. Birds with wings of shimmering gold darted through the sky, their songs threading through the air like fine silk.
But Yuri couldn’t focus on the beauty of it all. His eyes were drawn to the figures waiting for them at the edge of the terrace.
Three angels stood in a line, their silver hair catching the light in a way that made them seem more apparition than flesh. Each bore at least four wings, spread open behind them and casting long shadows across the stones.
“These are the Stewards,” the woman explained, bowing gently toward the angels. “They will guide you to your placements. Trust in them, as they have walked this path long before you.”
“What does it mean to be placed?” The question came from Sabriel, his curiosity rippling through the group.
The woman turned to him. “It means your life’s purpose will be revealed. Every angel is born with a role to fulfill. Today, you will begin to understand yours.”
“What if I don’t like mine?” He tilted his head, dubious.
Her laugh was as soft as a song. “You will. When you discover your path, it will feel like the most natural thing in the world. Now come.” She led them down the steps of the terrace and toward the Stewards, introducing each one.
“This is Azriel, High Warden of the Guardians.” She gestured to the first angel. His presence was steady, commanding yet gentle. “Guardians specialize in the protection of humans.”
Next, she nodded toward the second angel. “Ithriel, Harbinger of the Heralds, who deliver Divine messages and filter the will of the Light to all corners of existence.” Ithriel carried herself with an air of serenity, her robes glowing as if kissed by the dawn.
Finally, her gaze turned to the third. “And Xadriel, Commander of the Soldiers. They are the Light’s sword, ridding the world of the darkness that plagues it.”
From the moment Yuriel laid eyes on Xadriel, he couldn’t look away.
Unlike the others, Xadriel wore no flowing robes.
He wore dark battle leathers, sleek and fitted.
A striking jeweled sword hung at his hip, its pommel glittering.
Though no taller than Azriel, he carried himself with a pride that made him seem far larger.
But what truly held Yuriel’s attention were Xadriel’s wings. He had six of them—three sets that folded neatly against his back. Unlike the immaculate white of the other angels, they were the deep, smoky gray of a storm. Yuriel couldn’t stop staring at them, and he wasn’t the only one.
Sabriel’s eyes glittered as they traced every detail—the wings, his posture, the weapon—drinking it all in.
Though Yuriel felt the same pull of curiosity, it remained tightly coiled within him.
He kept his head bowed, unwilling to let anyone glimpse the intrigue gnawing at him.
Sabriel, however, was unguarded, his admiration shining like a beacon.
“I’m joining the Soldiers,” he announced, voice bearing a confidence that made Yuriel uncomfortable.
He risked a glance at Xadriel’s face, searching for a reaction.
To his surprise, the commander smiled. It wasn’t the warm, reassuring kind that the woman had worn, but something sharper.
Sabriel, undeterred, seemed to soak it in, standing straighter beneath that gaze.
“I suppose we’ll see about that soon, young one,” Xadriel said. His voice was deep and commanding, and every angel stood taller at the sound. “Your designation is not up to you.”
Sabriel frowned. “Then who decides it?”
Yuriel grimaced inwardly at how freely Sabriel spoke. His words were bold, teetering on the edge of insolence … though Yuriel couldn’t deny they were the same questions circling in his own mind.
It was Azriel who smiled up at them. “The Divine Ruler. This is all preordained, young one. There are no decisions to be made. These tests will simply reveal the path that was always meant for you.”
Sabriel chewed his lip, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. Yet if his confidence had wavered, it returned swiftly, solidifying in the set of his shoulders. “Very well, I’ll take your test.”
It was difficult not to be drawn to this boy. There was something magnetic about his boldness, and Yuriel wasn’t the only one captivated. Many of the angels around them watched Sabriel intently, their expressions a mix of admiration and unease.
Ithriel clapped her hands. “Then let’s get to it. Mine is the first test.”
The angels were gathered and led to a small annex attached to the palace. As they approached, Yuriel felt a peculiar unease seep into his bones. His skin prickled, and several of the others hugged their arms around themselves, casting wary glances at one another.
Ithriel, however, drifted ahead like a leaf on an unseen breeze. She was a small woman, pretty and plump, with a pleasant grin that never strayed from her lips. White robes billowed around her, and she moved with stark confidence past the angels who hesitated.
“Come now,” she teased, her voice light and lilting. “You’ll be fine.”
Despite her promise, the room’s strangeness only deepened once they crossed the threshold.
Gilded mirrors lined the walls, interwoven with twisting glass columns that stretched from floor to ceiling, refracting the light in countless directions.
The effect was dizzying, crafting the illusion of an infinite void.
Yuriel’s gaze snagged on the columns. Each one bore strange symbols etched into its surface. He squinted, trying to read them, but every time he thought he grasped their meaning, the edges blurred and dissolved until he lost all understanding.
There was a voice in the room, too. Low and dark, muttering in a language that felt both familiar and foreign, like a lullaby hummed in reverse. It slithered against his skin, and Yuriel shivered, unnerved by the chill creeping down his spine.
Across from him, Sabriel glared up at one of the columns. “Am I meant to understand any of this?”
Beside him, a girl tilted her head, her long red hair cascading over one shoulder. She had piercing blue eyes almost too large for her face, and they sparkled with curiosity.
“It’s welcoming us into the Chamber of Echoes,” she said, her tone matter-of-fact.
Sabriel’s lips puckered. “You can read that?”
“You can’t?” She blinked, genuinely surprised.