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Azrael lowered her head and turned slightly away. I could see the anger inside of her, theshame. Many of the other angels surrounding us, those fresh-faced protectors who wore Helena’s rose-tinted armor also seemed to share in Azrael’s disgust. They believed my words. They didn’t need me to elaborate or explain. It was as if they couldfeelthe truth in what I was saying.
“And what about you, then?” asked the Tyrant, his words cutting through the silence like the slice of his blade.
“Me?” I asked.
“Are you ready to face Medrion in combat?”
I looked across at him, eyes narrowed. I knew what this was. He had issued a challenge, and I couldn’t refuse it. I knew I wasn’t at all ready to face Medrion in combat, and I wasn’t nearly as good as the Tyrant was when it came to swordplay.
I was about to get my ass kicked, and I couldn’t say no.
“I am ready to learn,” I said, choosing my words. “If you are willing to teach me.”
His leathery wings unfurled, beat once as if in approval, and then curled behind his back again. “That is what I am here for.”
“But I want to learn from both of you,” I said, glancing at Azrael.
Azrael simply nodded. “I can teach you to fight like a Warrior.”
“And I can teach you how defend like a Guardian,” said the Tyrant.
Maybe it was because they were both standing side by side, or because they both had similar attitudes, or because they clearly did not like each other very much, but their bickering reminded me of siblings. Two halves of the same coin, each trying to prove they were worth more than other.
“I need both of you,” I reiterated, and I looked down at my hand and opened my palm. The space between my wings began to illuminate as I pulled my own Light up from within myself. There was a flash, a momentary burst of golden sparkles, and a moment later, a sword appeared in my hand. A sword made purely of Light. “But I’m going to fight like a Lightbringer.”
Azrael and the Tyrant shared a look, then. It wasn’t exactly concern, but they were holding physical blades, while mine was made of Light. This was Medrion’s trick. The first time I saw him up in Heaven—and then again in Meridian—he had produced a blade just like this one.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” The Tyrant asked.
“Does it matter?” I asked.
“No. But do you know how to use it?”
I did, and he knew that. The Tyrant and I had sparred before. I remembered, vividly, how I made him bleed and then he made me bleed. I also remembered how quick he was to repairthe damage he had done to me. It was the first time I’d felt like he truly cared, the first time I saw the Guardian that lived underneath the Tyrant.
They both readied their swords.
I readied mine.
With everyone’s eyes on me, I lunged at them both. I had no chance in hell of taking either of them on in single combat, let alone both of them at the same time. But I knew I had to face this challenge, even lose, if only to show the angels gathered that this training was invaluable for the coming fight.
On swift feet and swifter wings I cut a path through them both, leaping off the ground at the last moment and vaulting into the air. Twisting my torso, I sliced at them each as I sailed over them, my golden blade singing against theirs as if it was made of metal itself.
When I landed behind them, I turned my eyes up. The Tyrant’s face was a mixture of impressed, surprised, and somewhat disappointed. The disappointment wasn’t with me, however, but with the sword in his hand. When he had parried my attack, a piece of his sword had come off. Azrael stared at her sword, also dumbfounded as the tip of the blade fell off and clattered to the ground. This prompted a cheer from the gathered angels, who seemed excited at this development.
Azrael and the Tyrant exchanged glances.
“We’re going to need better swords,” said Azrael, “Either that, or we focus our attacks on their Lightbringers, first.”
“This isn’t a Lightbringer trick,” I said. “Medrion is a Warrior, and he was able to do it. We can all do it.”
The Tyrant let his sword drop to the ground. “Fancy blades alone will not win us this conflict,” he said. “My mistake here was relying on my sword.Again.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “You’re unarmed.”
The Tyrant made fists with his hands. “We’ll see, Lightbringer. Now,come.”
The familiar feeling of fluttering butterflies began to stir in my stomach, nervous but excited all at the same time. I tried to ignore them as I readied myself and sped toward the Tyrant once more. I raised my glowing sword as I approached and swung it in a hard, downward arc, but the Tyrant was fast. So fast. He ducked out of the way of my blade effortlessly, repositioning himself at my side.
