For a good long while, probably hours, I followed Mikha'el through the shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls. Throughout he called books to him—always by just saying "book" and holding out his hand—which he unceremoniously dumped into my arms. We didn't stop until I couldn't see, and I started having trouble finding my center of balance because I still wasn't used to my two massive wings. 

It took us probably a full hour just to get back to the main area. By the time we emerged from the depths enough to hear others speaking again, I was covered in a thin film of sweat. And by the time we reached the desks, I was muttering and swearing under my breath, silently saying nasty things about Mikha'el's mother (who didn't exist, by the way). 

As I dumped my books down (earning me a cacophony of "sh!"s), I openly glared at Mikha'el. Mikha'el, however, was smiling at me as he lackadaisically began to sort through the books. 

"Well, you passed my first test," he declared happily, peering at a spine of a book before putting it in the pile he had made to his right. 

Angrily I flicked a bead of sweat off the tip of my nose. "What?" 

Mikha'el frowned at another spine, and then put that one in the pile to the left. "I could have done with a little less complaints near the end there, but you did what I expected of you." 

I slumped in a chair, digging my fingers into my right shoulder. My entire back ached from my wings twitching as they tried to keep me upright. Rolling my arm, I looked up at him in annoyance. "You were testing me? How? We were walking." 

Mikha'el wasn't looking at me. Instead he had a book open, running his finger down its page. "Hmm. I don't remember telling you that you could sit." 

"Wha—" 

I have yet to be as petrified as I was in this very instance. Before I even finished the word, Mikha'el's hair erupted into a fount of flames. His eyes glowed, a third eye appearing on his forehead, a fourth on his chin. On the backs of both his hands sprung two more eyes. When he spoke it was a loud scream, ethereal and unlike the voice I had come to know. His open, unmoving mouth was glowing the same white-hot light as his eyes. 

"I did not tell you that you were allowed to sit in my presence!" 

I was so frightened I literally fell out of my seat. When I blinked, Mikha'el stood before me as I had come to know him. The book was closed and he was staring down at me evenly. Panting I scrambled to my feet, ready to flee for my life. I was shocked when none of the other patrons seemed disturbed by what had just occurred. 

"From now on," Mikha'el said at an even keel, though there was a snap of threatening undertone to it, "you shall do as I say, when I say it, as I say it. Is that understood?" 

I was numb. 

His eyes glowed white. "Am I understood?" 

I nodded vigorously, afraid I was going to be violently ill. 

And just like that Mikha'el smiled, his eyes back to their pleasant cerulean blue, and gracefully sat down, briefly unfurling all his wings to resituate them to accommodate the chair. I was too terrified to even blink. 

"You may sit," he said pleasantly with a nod of his head. 

I scooped up my toppled over chair and sat rigidly. 

"Ulcinin—you are sitting on your right primary flight feather—you can move." 

I was grateful he said that. It had been, in fact, excruciating. I shifted and fluttered my wings, trying not to wince even as tears stung my eyes. 

"I was half expecting you to complain to me directly about the book load," Mikha'el explained patiently. "You are to be trained not only in mind, but in body. You are destined to become a solider of God." 

Still rattled badly, I didn't dare say or do anything with this new proffered information.

"Also, I apologize for the harshness." 

That's what you call that? I thought wryly, not daring to say something like that out loud. 

"That in it of itself was a lesson," he explained evenly. "Ulcinin—you and I are friends. I would like to remain so. However, the fact remains I am your teacher and you are my ward. As such, I need to remind you that moving forward, you are my pupil first, friend second." 

I felt like he had just crushed my heart under his boot heel until it was dust. He must have seen my crestfallen expression, for he reached across the table then and patted my hand.

"You don't rightly have a concept of what is happening to you, nor who, and what, exactly, I am." 

I swallowed. 

"I could very easily sit here and explain to you my rank, that I am Archangel Primus, the head of all the angels in Heaven." 

My fear was quickly replaced by awe. 

"I could explain that I am leader of our Heavenly Army, the Admiral. I could explain that I have a full six garrison at my disposal, and that they will assemble with a mere snap of my fingers." 

He held up his fingers, but didn't snap. Giving a half smile, he put his arm down. "I could also very easily explain how I am one of the few leaders in Heaven who has any sort of control over Metatron. Besides myself and Auriel, there is currently no one here in this library who could get Metatron to do anything they told Metatron to."

It was still disturbing to me that we were in some sort of living, sentient library, but I kept quiet. 

"Or," Mikha'el said then, dropping his voice to a menacing level that sent me right back into a panic with a shiver down my spine, "I could explain to you how I am second only to God Himself, and describe for you what my true form looks like, and let you know that what I showed you just now is only a fraction of what I truly look like."

I trembled. 

"But," Mikha'el said, shifting to the side, his lips puckering slightly as he continued to speak to me in the deepest caverns of his chest, "why tell you all of that when I can show you?" 

I clasped my hands beneath the table, willing them to stop shaking. 

"I beseech you," he said, "please don't think of me in a different light now." 

Yeah, right, okay. 

"Like I said, I am a hands-on teacher, and your lessons have begun. Do you understand?" 

I nodded vigorously. 

Mikha'el relaxed and smiled. "Excellent! Good, now, I have separated everything into five categories—Angelic lore, history, military, physiological pertaining to angels, and vocabulary." Still smiling, Mikha'el picked up a tattered looking volume and leaned his cheek against it. "First and foremost I am going to teach you our language, Enochian." 

~

I was showered with praise over what a quick study I was. By the end of the night I could read a handful of words in Enochian, and could write my name. Once Mikha'el deemed I had enough spelling and letters for one day, he allowed me to flip through whatever other books I wanted to give myself some ideas about what was in store for me. 

Truthfully, as the night slowly gave way to early morning, I was beginning to feel very disheartened. I was told these twenty-five books in front of me were barely scratching the surface of what I needed to know. I was told that, at some point, he wanted me to read a vast majority of the works that comprised Metatron. It seemed daunting if not outright impossible. 

"You look weary," Mikha'el said shortly after the last patron in our vicinity left. "Let us be done for the day. Would you like to share a meal before the night's end?"

It was weird; I hadn't been hungry until he mentioned it. The drowsiness from the day's studies coupled with the time made me yawn. I suddenly was exhausted, but also very hungry. So I nodded through another wide yawn. 

"Excellent," Mikha'el said happily, not acting nor looking the least bit tired. "Metatron? Hide." 

To my shock every book vanished. Mikha'el got to his feet. I almost did likewise but, suddenly remembering what had happened this morning, didn't. 

"Come, Ulcinin." 

Feeling like a stupid wet dog, I glumly followed in Mikha'el's wake. 

"Oh, you're still here," Auriel said once we reached him. 

"Yes, however we need sustenance and shall be taking our leave now." 

"How'd he do?" Auriel asked. 

"I'm right here you know," I glowered, absolutely spent from the long, grueling, terrifying, and confusing day I had. I rubbed my shoulder, still sore from carrying all those books and trying to remain upright while doing so. 

"He did amazing," Mikha'el beamed, putting his hand on my shoulder. 

And suddenly the fear and pain was all worth it.