Interlude #2
“It looks like nonsense. What about that dreadful voice? Do you hear that, too?”
“Dreadful?” The girl frowned, looking equal parts confused and offended. “It’s giving us the instructions.”
“What instructions?”
At this, Ithriel stepped forward. “To carry the Divine word is to navigate truth from deception. You must not only bring forth the voice you hear within, but decipher who the words are meant for. It’s a maze. Follow the instructions, and you’ll be led to the other side.”
“And if we hear nothing?” Sabriel asked, his skepticism plain.
Ithriel’s smile didn’t falter. “Do not give up so easily. Give the maze a try, and perhaps you’ll be surprised by what you find.”
She stepped toward the exit, her robe swishing against the mirrored floor. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Sabriel turned to Yuriel with a raised brow. “What about you? Do you hear voices in your head, Yuri?”
Yuri. He liked that name.
Yuri shook his head, his wings rustling uneasily. “I hear nothing.”
Light, is that what I sound like? His voice was rough, like gravel scraping against stone. He lowered his gaze, embarrassed by the rasp in it. He’d need to practice speaking.
Sabriel grunted, crossing his arms. “How are we meant to follow a maze if we can’t even hear the instructions?”
Yuri’s eyes flicked forward, tracking the red-haired angel as she moved confidently down the hall, turning sharply to the right.
Around them, a few other angels branched off in various directions, each seeming to follow a path only they could perceive.
Yuri pointed after the girl, his voice steadier this time.
“I think we start by following one of them.”
Sabriel followed his gaze and clapped Yuri’s shoulder. “Brilliant. Let’s hurry before we lose her.”
It was easier said than done.
The maze of mirrors twisted reality, warping each path.
Several times, Sabriel walked headfirst into a mirror, hissing under his breath.
Yuri, at least, had the sense to test each path with his hands, brushing against the cold glass to find the gaps.
When he finally located the right passage, he grabbed Sabriel’s wrist and tugged him forward.
“Not very roomy, is it?” Sabriel muttered, wings pulled tight against his back. He had to turn sideways to squeeze through some of the narrower paths, his large frame scraping uncomfortably against the mirrored walls.
Yuri said nothing, his focus fixed on the girl ahead, her red hair a beacon in the shifting maze.
The maze twisted and folded back on itself, and several wrong turns forced them to double back, chasing reflections of themselves until they caught up with her.
She moved as if caught in a dream, seeming to have no awareness of being followed.
“You know,” Sabriel murmured, leaning closer, “I’m glad I can’t hear anything. Imagine walking around like that all day. The girl looks possessed.”
It took Yuri a few heartbeats to wrap his mind around the meaning of that word, and when he did, he managed only a stiff nod.
Though Sabriel didn’t care for this path, Yuri imagined that he might have quite enjoyed the life of a Herald.
It seemed an intriguing enough life. Unfortunately, no matter how hard he strained to make sense of the whispers that curled around him, he understood nothing.
Ahead, the red-haired girl slowed her steps.
She approached a cluster of figures, indistinct shapes made of twisting light.
Yuri and Sabriel stilled, watching intently as she stepped forward to the one in the center.
She muttered words too soft for them to hear, and immediately a door behind the figure swung open.
The girl’s expression cleared as though a fog had been lifted from her mind, and she hurried through the open door.
“Wait!” Sabriel barked, lunging forward. But before he could reach her, the door slammed shut, its sound reverberating like a hammer against Yuri’s ribs. Sabriel growled, pounding his fist against the door.
The words, a voice said. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. Yuri nearly jumped, his heart beating wildly as he whipped his head in search of the source. You must tell me the words.
Sabriel stiffened, folding his arms. “The words,” he repeated dryly, “are whatever that girl just said.”
A heavy pause followed, as though the room itself were mulling over his answer.
Then, to Yuri’s astonishment, a soft sigh stirred the air, brushing against him like a faint breeze.
Accepted, the voice murmured, begrudging.
The doors opened with a reluctant creak, and Sabriel let out a triumphant laugh.
He grabbed Yuri by the arm and hauled him through before the door could change its mind.
Outside, Yuri squinted as his vision adjusted to the sunlight. More than half the angels were already waiting, gathered in loose groups and buzzing with excitement.
“It seems your abilities lie outside of heraldry after all,” Ithriel mused, her smile warm and knowing as she approached the two boys. “Though I’m proud to say we may have found several other promising new Heralds today.”
The red-haired girl stood a few paces away, her chest swelling with pride. Yuri found himself staring at her, unable to look away from the sheer intensity of her delight. Around her, several others buzzed with anticipation, their excitement infectious.
Until that moment, Yuri hadn’t given much thought to the trials. He’d been curious, yes, but seeing the others bask in the glow of finding their place made him realized how powerful that assurance must feel.
To know you were needed. To find a place where you fit in without any effort.
It made him eager for the next trial.
“Whether you believe you’ve found your place already or not, you’ll want to complete all the trials,” Ithriel said. “It’s not uncommon to think you’re meant for one path, only to discover your true calling lies elsewhere. Azriel will take you from here.”
The man stepped up from behind her, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. Despite the broad set of his shoulders and the power that rippled through his frame like a coiled spring, his face was open and kind, radiating a quiet warmth.
“Welcome to my favorite day of the year,” Azriel said, his voice a deep rumble that held a surprising joviality. “Selfishly, I believe being a Guardian is the most rewarding path an angel can take, and I look forward to seeing which of you join us. Follow me, and we’ll begin the trial.”
Though a few of the angels hesitated, glancing back at Ithriel, she gave them a reassuring smile and waved them along.
Azriel led the group away from the Celestial Palace, to a place where the golden light of the palace began to fade.
Willows lined the path, their long branches swaying in a gentle breeze.
“One day you’ll learn how to make the journey yourself,” Azriel began, “but for now, this path will take us beyond Sanctuary. To test your strength as a Guardian, you must understand what it means to protect and comfort those in need. And to do that, we must go where the Light is most dim.”
The angels exchanged uneasy glances. Even Sabriel, who had carried himself with unwavering confidence, faltered momentarily.
They reached an archway carved into the base of an enormous tree, its wood dark and gnarled, twisting into intricate patterns. Azriel placed a hand on the arch, and faint symbols illuminated beneath his palm as a door of light appeared before them.
“We’re going to the mortal realm,” Azriel said. “This is where you will truly begin to understand the burden of a Guardian’s role. There is no preparing for what lies beyond this door—there’s only experiencing it.”
The swirling light of the portal dimmed as Azriel stepped through, motioning for the others to follow.
The shift was immediate and merciless. The warmth and serenity of Sanctuary vanished, replaced by a biting chill that slithered through Yuri’s robes and clung to his skin.
They stood on the outskirts of a ruined village, where the charred remains of homes clawed at the sky.
Closer to them, firelight illuminated rows of makeshift tents, their tattered fabric shivering in the wind.
“Strength comes in many forms,” Azriel said, standing at the edge of the encampment.
“For this trial, you will prove not your power in battle, but your capacity to nurture. Guardians must be more than protectors. The ability to heal and to bring comfort in the darkest of moments is among our most vital roles.” He stopped before one of the larger tents, his face grave.
“Before I take you inside, allow me to give you a warning. This path is one of great reward and profound sorrow. There will be wounds you cannot mend and lives you cannot save. But even in those moments, we can offer solace. We can provide light, even as a flame dims.”
He pushed the heavy flaps of the tent aside and motioned for the angels to step forward.
The interior was dimly lit by lanterns that cast a wavering orange glow across the space.
Several cots lined the ground, each hosting a different body.
An older angel lay on one, his face pale and drawn, a rough cloth bandaged hastily around his leg where blood had seeped through.
Another cot held a child, her breaths shallow and uneven.
On yet another rested a crow with wings bent at unnatural angles, its dark eyes half-lidded.
Even Sabriel seemed affected, his usual confidence replaced with tight-lipped silence as he stood beside Yuri.
His jaw clenched and his gaze darted between the cots, unwilling to settle too long on any one place.
Though the scene was harrowing, Yuri found himself seeing it through a different lens.
Beneath the pain and despair, he felt the faintest glimmer of possibility—a chance, however small, that he might help ease their suffering.