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Power lets out a shaky, frustrated breath as they dismiss their half-formed rapier. The setting sun is turning the courtyard dirt gold, and the greater angel decides to watch the slow transition as they rest.
Then, the sound of footsteps gets their attention.
They turn. “Sir?”
“You waited.”
Gabriel approaches. His form casts long shadows over the yard. His gilded hand rests on the hilt of one of his sword, which the Power takes quiet notice of. Justice and Splendor—blades no one has seen drawn in thousands of years. They yearn for a glimpse, but know better than to ask.
“I wanted to train a little more before our meeting.”
Power straightens as Gabriel silently passes them. No acknowledgment. They don’t expect praise, but this silence made them nervous. He had yet to explain why he invited them here after training in the first place.
He stops at the center of the court and wills a light spear into his hand.
“Ready yourself.”
Power startles. “M-More training? Is this a special lesson?”
“Special? No,” Gabriel says evenly. “I’ll be plain. You are my weakest student. You can barely manifest your weaponry, and your peers best you all too quickly in combat. If that does not change, you’ll be among the first to die in true conflict.”
He suddenly turns and readies his spear.
“Prove me wrong.”
Despite his assessment, it doesn’t take Power long to process it. They shift to a battle-ready stance, and their lone wing flaps and lifts them off the ground.
“Spear!” they cry, more forcefully now than ever before, knowing this was it. This was against him. And for the first time, their weapon manifests fully—solid and complete. Power stares, stunned at their own sudden...ability? Competence?
“Good,” Gabriel says, approval (finally) in his voice. “Will your determination into your weapon, and it will manifest true.”
His own wings spur him upward, meeting his disciple in the air.
“Now come!”