"Fuck!"

"You really should refrain from swearing quite so much." 

I looked up from where I was on the floor, on my hands and knees, panting and sweating. Mikha'el stood at ease, frowning down at me. I glared defiantly. 

"Uml g gnay oi!" (Then you do it!) 

"Ah, your Enochian is improving. I'm impressed." Then to my horror, Mikha'el squatted before me, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back to look at him; it hurt. He glared. "Engzul c g ton, pash." 

It was a phrase he would use often with me: Enough with your tone, child. 

Roughly Mikha'el released my head, standing and glaring down at me. He nodded once. "Again." 

I clenched both hands into fists while the pitter patter of my sweat hitting the floor filled my ears. "I can't." 

"Can't, or you won't?" 

I raised my head and glared. "I can't." 

"Funny," Mikha'el mused, looking at his nails as he cast an air of indifference, "I seem to remember you being turned into an angel?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I growled out, throat dry and parched. I was at serious risk of collapsing fully, my arms shaking as I tried to hold myself up.

"It means," Mikha'el said, eyes honing in on me, "that you have strength beyond your wildest dreams. It means that you are thinking like a mortal still. You don't feel pain, you don't feel fatigue." 

"The fuck?" I panted, struggling to get up after I finally collapsed. I looked up into his face. "I do hurt! My back is on fire from all these stupid tricks you're having me ru—" 

To say I was caught off guard when Mikha'el kicked me in the chest, hard, is an understatement. I would have gasped at the shock of it, except I suddenly couldn't. Instead I rolled onto my back; I could feel the skin where wings met shoulder blades crack and bleed. I let out a strangled, gasping, barely-audible yelp at the excruciating pain. 

"YOU ARE A SOLDIER OF THE LORD!" 

I scrambled away then, on my hands and knees. But Mikha'el easily bested me. Roughly he grabbed me by the shirt I was wearing, hauled me to my feet and punched me. Then he punched me again. Then he shook me. 

"Do you think the HellHounds are going to care if you're tired as they feast upon your flesh?" he ranted at me. "Do you think a demon would stop it's torture of you just because you're weakened?" 

I am not sure why, but a laugh bubbled up from my lungs and into my throat. I could barely see out of the one eye he had punched, and I could feel blood trickling down my lip and chin from where he punched my mouth. Mikha'el raised his hand, his palm glowing golden. He stopped millimeters away from touching my face. With his other hand he had me by the hair again. 

"Insolate child!" he snapped at me, voice low and deadly, eyes wild and slightly glowing golden. "I should kill you right now." 

Another laugh. "You can't kill me. Angels don't die." 

His hand grew brighter, and now his nostrils flared. "Unless they are killed by another angel or Hellion."

I was exhausted, tired. Four days in, I found myself not caring if Mikha'el ended me. In fact, I sort of wished for it. I was seriously starting to think that I wasn't cut out for this whole angel business. Nothing came easy for me, I felt that everything was a struggle. I laughed again, really pressing my luck and really not caring. 

"You won't." 

His hand flared, and I could feel the heat from it now. 

"What happened to the whole soulmate thing, eh, Mik?" I laughed. "You'll never kill me." 

Mikha'el slowly lowered his hand. He then, as though I were little more than a rag doll, threw me up into the air. 

"AGAIN," he bellowed as I was forced to flap my wings, least I come smashing back onto the marble floor. 

Cursing under my breath, I started yet another lap at breakneck speeds. My entire back ached. I could feel where the skin had cracked at my shoulder blades open wider with every flap of my wings. Every turn was excruciating. 

"FASTER!" 

I tried but couldn't, tears starting to fly out of my eyes. 

"FASTER! FASTER! DAMN YOU, ULCININ, FASTER!" 

And as I spurred myself faster, and I could feel my back becoming soaked with blood, I began to openly sob. 

I had been making these laps for twelve hours. 

~

That night at the tavern was awkward at best. We sat at what had become our table, tucked away in the far corner. He had healed me; he assured me that, with time, I would grow stronger in my angelic abilities and I would be able to recover from injuries quickly. He also told me that I soon would be taught how to heal others. 

Mikha'el sat where he always did, in the utmost corner, eyes sweeping over the room periodically. I sat to his right. I didn't speak until the night had worn on and fellow angels began to shuffle out of the establishment.

"Were you really going to kill me?" I asked quietly, unable to look at him in the face. 

A pause, and then a word coated with shame. "No." 

I slammed my cup down on the table. "Then what the fuck was that?" 

Mikha'el looked away. 

"What was that, Mikha'el? Why did you make me fly for twelve hours straight, until I was delirious from exhaustion and my back was covered in blood with my clothes soaked through, huh?" 

"It was for your own good." 

"Bullshit," I snarled. 

We had started to become louder, and I caught a few patrons glancing at us in worry. 

Mikha'el leaned forward then. "Do you think this is a game?" he hissed right back at a normal volume. 

"Of co—" 

He cut me off. "Do not say, of course not. You may not think it a game, Ulcinin, but I also don't think you understand what is needed for your survival." 

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. 

"You're not like them," he told me, quietly once more, sweeping his hand to gesture all around the room. "In name alone are you like them." 

I glanced about the room. The past few days had been infuriating. It kept being eluded to that there was something special about me, but what? 

"How are we not alike?" 

"Your soul is—" 

I raised my eyebrows impatiently. 

"Different."

"Okay…" 

"Simply, you have the heart of a warrior." 

"Still not explaining much, Mikha'el." 

He laughed. "Alright, alright. Even as a mortal you have desirable qualities. Mental and physical resilience. Adaptability. Competence. Your sheer willpower is something to behold."

There went my damn wings again, twitching away. 

"You don't shy away from adversity. In fact, adversity doesn't even bother you. You just, simply put, have never acted like a mortal." 

I spread out my wings and re-folded them, hoping it worked to seem like a simply re-adjusting of how I was sitting, and not the fact that they had started to move of their own accord. 

"You are malleable, artistic; you speak without hesitation or reservation. You're charming—" 

I couldn't help myself. I snorted. 

"You're charming," he repeated, narrowing his eyes. He then paused and cocked his head to the side. "You don't think you're charming?"

For the first time in a long while, I felt embarrassed. Even so, I didn't look away. It made Mikha'el smile. Then he pointed at me. 

"That. That right there is what I'm talking about. Even when you are uncomfortable, you don't shy away. I'm telling you, Ulcinin, you are very unique, and God noticed; I noticed. You have the qualities of a natural born leader."

Pretty sure my cheeks turned pink. 

"With some refinement, I truly believe you are going to be one of the best angels in all of Heaven." 

I swallowed. "And if I don't live up to that?" 

Mikha'el laughed, clamping a hand on my shoulder. "Self-doubt isn't like you, Ulcinin. Push that thought from your head. You are usually self-assured to the point of cockiness. You should feel that now." 

I turned my head away. I didn't want to admit what I was about to, but with Mikha'el I found myself never being able to hide anything. "This is hard." 

Mikha'el laughed. Sometimes his aloofness was annoying. "All the best things are hard." 

"I was pulled into this," I glowered, crossing my arms. 

"What are you looking for, Ulcinin?" 

I looked at him. "What?" 

"Look in your heart of hearts. Look at life from all aspects—as it is to you, as it is to others, life in the past, present, and future. If you could wish one thing for yourself and everyone, what would it be?" 

Well, that was a question I had never thought of. I took my time, sipping on my wine. I was giving it considerable and serious thought. I dissected it; what was life missing? What was I missing?

"I guess," I said slowly, looking off to the side. "I guess…" 

Truthfully I didn't know. Mikha'el reached forward and put a hand on my knee. He smiled very kindly. 

"You may not know now, but I know, and God knows. You will know as well in time." 

He patted my knee and leaned back. I watched him as he stared out at the early beginning of evening, the stars starting to bring their nightly twinkle. We didn't speak for the rest of the night. He appeared lost in thought. 

I just hoped I would come to know what he and God knew.