In a few days, some of the senior Guardians will come to test me and see if I am ready to fly as one of them. Orison tells me that Salathiel may come to oversee the test, which is a great honor. I am not entirely surprised, though—from what I have learned, Salathiel takes an active interest in the work of the angels in her wing. And mine is an unusual case.
I have to admit, though, I was not expecting to find Guardians in such closely-knit community. True, most of them work alone, but they will often check in on one another, trying to get to know one another, and while their style of communication is brief, it moves deep. I had not met many of them, at first, and I worried that I had not been accepted as easily as I hoped, but as it happens, my new companions simply did not want to interrupt my training. I have met several of them now, and each of them came to me as if we were already best of friends. Tyisha is blunt and dark and beautiful, her words like swift punches. Anatole strikes me as the most patient angel I have ever met, keeping absolutely still until he is ready to move—and then he moves like lightning. Priya is filled with laughter, which already seems odd to me, as Guardians tend to be serious. It is refreshing to be in her company, and I think she knows that.
They all have a wisdom of their own, and I never once felt a stranger as they spoke to me. Rather, they asked me to share my experiences and nodded in understanding as I spoke of protecting Freya from Peter, of my wish to defend my charges from hurt—even of the loss of Shannon, for all of them have either felt that pain already, or they know it is only a matter of time. In their eyes and in their auras I have seen that they understand, and they want me to succeed.
I am in very good company.
They have begun coming now, Anatole explained to me, because Orison feels that I have a solid grasp of the basics of a Guardian’s training. Each of my visitors has offered a bit of advice or a new trick to help me, and my understanding grows every day. Of course, I would never have come this far without the assistance of my teachers, Rumael and Eburnean, and most of all Orison. His patient guidance, every day leading me through my lessons and drills, encouraging me when I faltered, praising me when I did well, has made all of this possible.
But I am not forgotten by my old friends, either. Inca will come sometimes to train with me, saying that she needs the practice. Sabasa and Bayaer have also been to visit me, both with help to offer as well—Sabasa urged me on with inspiration to help me understand the practice of hardening my heart still better, while Bayaer told me stories of famous Guardians and their accomplishments in hopes of giving me good examples to follow.
And my dear Brid has been as busy as I have been, training with her seniors so that she might know how to heal angels harmed in battle. She has her own battle-face now, one that quite silenced me when I tried to protest that this took her away from her passion for healing humans.
“You will be hurt in this fight,” she told me, “and I will not be helpless in the face of that. Who can help you better than I can? And if that means the difference between saving you and losing you, then I will not regret an instant of it.”
I am more fortunate than I deserve.
And I think that I am ready for this test. I hope that I am, with only a few days left.