I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going. The following day I was to meet Mikha’el in Metatron as always. It had become normalcy that I arrived before he did; I was instructed on the days when this happened, I was to begin my studies immediately. This particular day, however, was different. Mikha’el was never more than a quarter of an hour late, tops. So, once three quarters of an hour passed and he still didn’t arrive, I got up and walked to the front of Metatron.

“Hello Ulcinin,” Auriel greeted me as I approached his desk, not even bothering to look at me.

“Auriel. Have you seen–”

“Mikha’el? I have not; he has not arrived yet.”

I paused, then asked hesitantly, “Do you know where he is?”

Auriel paused in his writing. Besides that, he didn’t change his demeanor. “I do not. His whereabouts are also none of my concern.”

“Thanks for the help,” I snorted with a roll of my eyes. I turned my back and began to walk away.

I heard the tip of the quill Auriel wrote with break and snap. I stopped walking, happy Auriel couldn’t see the look of fear on my face. 

“How are your studies going, Ulcinin?” he asked me through clenched teeth.

I paused and then smirked. “Do my teachings fall under your concern, Auriel?”

When he didn’t answer, I continued on my way. However, instead of going back to my table, I decided to move deeper into Metatron. Truthfully it was barely even a conscious effort. It was as though something were calling me; like my feet suddenly had their own willpower and were pulling me down the aisle. No, actually it was as though I was tied by an invisible rope and was being led to where I belonged.

I honestly held no other explanation for why, twenty minutes later, I found myself staring up at one of the bookshelves buried deep within the heart of Metatron. Nestled amongst the bindings of browns and blacks sat a singular light blue spine. I could barely see it, truthfully. I had to crane my neck all the way back and stand off to the left side. I had zero idea what had brought me here, nor what that book even was; I had to read it, though.

Mouth becoming parched in want, I looked around. Yes, I could have just flapped my wings and gotten up there. Somehow I doubted that would have worked. As such, I decided to try something. I held out my had toward what I wanted.

“Book.”

Nothing happened. I tried again.

“Book.”

Still nothing. Starting to become angry, I narrowed my eyes. “Book!”

To my astonishment and fear, a large pair of black eyes formed in the shelving. They glared down at me. It was horrifying, the shelves and books themselves shifting and formed the lines of the displeased eyes. I took a step back. Though it were just eyes, I could tell if it were an entire face it would have been frowning deeply at me.

After a few moments, and I realized I wasn’t in immediate danger, I shuffled forward once more. A thought bounced over my brain, and I scrutinized the eyes.

“Metatron?”

The eyes blinked. They still looked displeased, but it was definitely a gesture of acknowledgement. I shifted uneasily.

“Oh. Hello.”

The eyes went right back to glaring. I swallowed thickly. 

“Might I have that book?”

The large eyes narrowed.

“Please?”

Glaring.

“Er, that book right there?” I pointed.

Now they looked pissed. I swallowed once more.

“I’m sorry, um, I feel perhaps we started off wrong. My name is Ulcinin–it is a pleasure to meet you, Metatron.”

The eyes stopped glaring and looked pleased. I can’t rightly describe it, even to this day, but the eyes sort of…nodded. I got the distinct impression there was a smile, and a head nod, and then the eyes vanished and the books and their shelves were just books and shelves once more. 

“Er, hello?”

Nothing. I took a deep breath and held out my hand once more, focusing on the one I wanted.

“Book.”

The blue book flew off the shelf and into my hand. I gasped; not only was I half-expecting the command to fail, but the force behind which it flew into my hand was alarming. As I smirked and opened it, I thought I would have to keep that in mind. 

I still didn’t rightly know what I was looking for, or why I had this book in my hand. Yet, even as I frowned down at the book, the pages began to flip. They turned so quickly my hair ruffled in the breeze they created. Just as quickly as the book had started moving, it stopped.

There weren’t words–and then there were. It was odd; the blank page suddenly had swirls of blue ink on them. These ribbons of ink undulated and moved around each other, until they sorted themselves out and formed words, sentences. Even stranger, every third word I read, the words behind them disappeared and reformed at the front of the sentence; it was like the book was writing itself as I read it.

I didn’t understand what I read–rather, I did, but I didn’t comprehend it. It was a poem about angel’s tears.

Unto the bottle they shall siphon

With the noose you must tighten

Coming from the rhythmic spring

Stand around within the ring

If you’re brave you must sing

Must be careful with the tone

Must collect the sacred bone

Mix them in the silver pot

With the blood to which must blot

Find the river within the plot

To which you must–

“What are you doing?!”

I was so startled I dropped the book. Gawking, I spun around. Mikha’el stood there. His face was impassive, but his eyes were alight with anger and…curiosity? Regardless, I could tell I was in deep, deep, trouble.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered immediately. “I don’t know how I got here, I just started walking because I was waiting for you, and–”

Mikha’el lurched forward. “What are you doing?”

I tried to speak but could only sputter.

Mikha’el punched the books next to my head without warning. The books on the wall opposite of me shifted, and the eyes were glaring at the back of his head. My wide eyes shifted in fear between Metatron and Mikha’el. Mikha’el, though he looked at me, spoke to Metatron.

“Sorry, Metatron.”

He let his arm fall to the side. He took a step forward and I pressed my back against the tomes as much as I could, until my wings hurt. 

“I will ask you a final time. What are you doing here?”

My mind whirled. What was I doing there? I decided to go the literal route. “I came here because this book seemed interesting to me.”

Mikha’el tilted his head to the side, looking intrigued now.

“I introduced myself to Metatron because he wouldn’t give me the book at first–”

“Wait–you tried to take a book from Metatron?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I have seen you and the scholars do it–it seemed easy.”

Mikha’el turned around and looked at the eyes. “Metatron,” he said softly. “You allowed him a book?”

The eyes looked inexplicably amused and then disappeared.

“Oh.”

“Oh?” I asked.

Mikha’el turned back to me. Then, he stooped down and picked up the book. It had landed face up and open. Glancing at the page, he then looked at me. Somehow the look of utter bewilderment was more frightening than his anger.

“Angel’s tears?”

“Y-yes?”

“You were–you were reading about angel’s tears?”

“Yes?” I squeaked. 

I could tell Mikha’el was twisting his face in serene compliance. As such, he closed the book, gave me a polite smile, turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“Come, Ulcinin.”

I scurried after him and then fell in step beside him.

“Mikha’el, I am sorry, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong–”

“Wrong?” Mikha’el stopped walking and turned to me. I was made further uncomfortable when he laughed. “You have done nothing wrong.”

“I haven’t? Then why were you so–”

He held up his hand and I immediately slammed my mouth shut. When Mikha’el started walking again I had no other choice but to follow him all the way back to the front of Metatron.

“Auriel! Dearest Auriel!” 

Auriel sighed heavily and looked up from his work. Mikha’el held out the blue book. Auriel took it, glanced at it, and then cocked an eyebrow. 

“Alright?”

“Ulicinin here picked this book.”

Auriel dropped the book looking shocked. 

Mikha’el grinned. 

“Metatron–” Auriel sputtered, “Metatron let him–”

“Let Ulcinin–”

“Let Ulcinin pick out a book?” Auriel glanced down at his desk. “That book, specifically?”

“What is going on?” I asked nervously. My question, however, was ignored.

“Ask Metatron. He will tell you true.”

Auriel picked up the book and looked offended. “I will do no such thing! I was merely…surprised, is all.”

“As was I.”

Auriel gave me an uncomfortable smile, and then handed me back the book. I took it and held it to my chest.

“Well,” Auriel told me, still with his uneasy smile, “the book is yours. Do what you will with it.”

“Thank you?" I said, though it came out as a question.

“Go protect your work,” Mikha’el told me gently then, turning to me. “Meet me back here when you are done.”

I was surprised. “But we haven’t–”

“Do not question me, Ulcinin. Do as you are told.”

I could feel myself blush and I hurried off to my desk. “Metatron, conceal.”

There was the briefest flicker around the desk, which was the only indication anything had changed. I knew that to a passer-by it would look like an empty space, not even a desk. That way no one would disturb my work, or even be able to see it. It was a nice safety net for privacy and, in some instances, secrecy. 

With that done, I hurried to the front along with Mikha’el. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I could feel Auriel’s eyes on us as we made our way to the door at a normal pace. I lost my fight to curiosity, and at the last moment, as Mikha’el swung open the door and sunlight poured into the dark library, I looked over my shoulder. Auriel was giving me the strangest look; it was intense, lips slightly puckered. Even from my distance I could tell he had stopped breathing. A bit shaken, I hurried out into the sunlight and let the door shut behind me.

Once my ward and I reached the bottom of the steps, Mikha’el began laughing. Confused, I watched as the angel became more fervent until he was doubled-over, laughing quite hysterically. Some angel cast furtive glances at him as they walked by. I stood there, shifting on my feet, unsure what on earth was happening.

“Er, are you alright?” I asked in a quiet voice.

Mikha’el stood up, wiping a tear from his eye. “Yes yes. Come, let us get a drink.”

I was going to protest, but at the last second decided not to. So wordlessly I trailed behind the archangel, sweeping my eyes to him every so often when he stifled a giggle or a laugh. In quick order we reached our destination. We settled into our usual corner in the back, ordered some honeymeade, and then plunged into discussion.

“What happened in Metatron?” I asked immediately as soon as our drinks were at hand. “Clearly I did something wrong–”

“No,” Mikha’el answered immediately, yet when he didn’t continue I pressed on.

“Then what? I don’t understand.”

Mikha’el’s eyes fell to the book I had nestled between my hip and the arm of the chair. After looking at it a moment he brought his eyes back up to mine.

“Everything that has happened this morning was highly irregular.”

I cocked an eyebrow. Mikha’el leaned forward, his words coming out in hushed tones.

“I didn’t want to explain all this until later, much later, but I think you have a right to know. At least, everything as it directly correlates to you.”

I blinked.

“Metatron is…I know, it is odd, but as I am sure you have noticed, is a sentient being. For all intents and purposes, he really is an archangel. He is a very special archangel, the keeper of secrets, the keeper of all sacred tomes as it pertains to God’s word and direction.”

I think it was just my imagination, but I got the distinct impression that the book besides me was…vibrating? Humming? It surprised me and I shifted uncomfortably, away from the sensation. However the book fell against my hip once more.

Mikha’el narrowed his eyes. “Metatron does not trust easily.”

My heart skipped a beat. Mikha’el’s expression had turned serious, eyes searing into my face with intensity as he looked at me.

“Metatron rarely allows books to leave his possession.”

I swallowed uncomfortably, mouth going dry.

Mikha’el leaned forward, elbows on his legs. “It’s also very fascinating that your inclination was to find one of the most holy–and dangerous–books in the entirety of Metatron.” 

I was so freaked out by his words I nearly took the book and tossed it away from myself. Yet at the same time, if his words were true, I knew I had been entrusted with a gift, and I should protect this book to the best of my ability. Mikha’el must have noticed my unease, for he smirked.

“That book in your possession,” Mikha’el continued in an even quieter voice so I, too, had to lean in to hear him, “is a book of binding.”

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a spellbook of how to ensnare angels and make them do your bidding.”

I was horrified. “Why would something like that exist?” 

“It shouldn’t.”

“But it does. It’s right here.”

“The Lord works in mysterious ways.”

I screwed up my face. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mikha’el smirked once again. “It means that I didn’t know that book existed until it was in your hands. It means that I don’t understand why Metatron explicitly entrusted it to you. It means–”

He cut himself off and looked very pensive.

“What?” I nearly squeaked. “What does it mean?”

Mikha’el gave me a beguiled look. “I don’t know.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Bullshit.”

He laughed and leaned back, swirling his meade. “I have my theories, but as I said, this is highly, highly irregular.” 

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “If you didn’t know the book existed until you laid eyes on it, then–”

“How did I know what it was in the first place? Angelic abilities. Do you honestly think that I–or anyone save Metatron himself–knows every single volume, tome, and scroll in that library? No. Our minds simply chose the path, and Metatron leads us down it to what we seek, what we desire.”

I frowned down at the book at my side. “I wasn’t seeking anything.”

“Then it called to you.”

I looked at Mikha’el. 

He shrugged. “As I stated, I have my theories.”

When I opened my mouth to press further, Mikha’el abruptly changed the subject. It was outright infuriating. He sat back and crossed his legs, still swirling his drink. “Raphael tells me he spoke with you yesterday at dusk.”

Biting down my anger, I shifted in my seat. “Yes.”

Mikha’el took a sip, his eyes bearing down on me as he looked at me over the lip of his cup. “And? How did that go?”

I looked away. I wanted to tell my ward it was fine, but I was experiencing for the first time the fact I literally couldn’t lie. My mouth wouldn’t move to form the words. As such, I side-stepped the question.

“I’m unsure what he brought me to see in the first place.”

“The Surface. Did you not see The Surface?”

“I did not.”

“What did you see?”

I thought back to the previous day and I was filled with great shame. I was supposed to see The Surface. I knew that; Raphael told me as such. Yet those plans had unraveled the first few seconds of me peering into the water. It was the first time seeing myself as an angel. As I saw my reflection, I got a flash of a memory regarding what I looked like as a mortal. This…this face that stared back decidedly was not that.

When I was living, I had a more square, broad jaw; it had smoothed out, appearing somewhat more feminine. My overall appearance had lightened considerably; my sun kissed skin was no more, now a soft, smooth alabaster. My eyes had been green–I think, anyway. Now they were a strange crystalline blue. In fact, the more I stared at myself, and as I moved my head, my eyes inexplicably changed colors. It was only brief, and once I stopped moving they settled on their bright blue, but whenever the lighting shifted they became strangely prismatic.

To say I hated it would be a lie–I despised it. I wasn’t going to admit this to Mikha'el, but I hadn’t seen The Surface because I began to weep bitterly. Raphael had been confused at my reaction, especially once I told him why I was crying. He seemed slightly bewildered, and for a few tense moments he stood there, unsure what to do. However he quickly told me that I could go back to my studies, and he led me woefully out of the scrying area.

Just thinking about how I looked and how much I had changed made my eyes sting with fresh tears. Embarrassed, I looked off to the side, turning my entire head in an attempt to conceal my wet eyes. “I would rather not discuss it, please.”

“Raphael told me,” Mikha’el said soothingly after a few moments of hesitation. When I lofted a glare at him, he looked at me utterly sympathetically. Somehow that look made my suffering ten times worse, and I looked away again, hoping he didn’t notice the tear streak down my cheek.

“Ulcinin–I am here for you, you know.”

The tenderness that emitted from the words made me stick my knuckles into my mouth to suppress a sob. I closed my eyes, willing myself to get a grip.

“Whenever you need anything, anything, I am here for you.” 

I opened my eyes but still couldn’t bear to look at my guardian angel.

“Whenever you are ready, I will be here for you, Ulcinin.” 

Mikha’el finally got me to face him when he leaned forward and put his hand on my knee. Every time he touched me was just like the first, thrilling and unbelievable with a strange electric sensation. This, mixed with his softness, somehow made me cry even harder.

“I will always be here for you, Ulcinin. I promise.”

As he smiled, I knew even then it was a stupid promise to make.