"I mean you no more harm. This was merely a test of your strength, and you passed valiantly. I didn't expect you to land a blow on me."
"And if I failed?" muttered Ratella, recovering gradually.
"I would have had Zafikel dissect you and figure out why you exist."
"And was this an order from the Primordial Light?"
"Seems Luna neglected to tell me that you know of the Primordial Light."
Ratella and Michael, in a matter of a couple of seconds, were transported in front of the throne. Michael took his seat lazily back on the throne, displaying no indication that he was a monarch.
"How'd you know Luna told me?"
"Zafikel would never speak of the Primordial Light to a person who was oblivious of its existence. I once eavesdropped on one of your midnight chats and heard him telling stories about the Primordial Light, so I just figured it was Luna who first spoke of it," said Michael, twisting his hair around his finger as he talked, his way of speaking shocking the boy.
His shock was written all over his face, leaving no doubt of the thoughts racing around in his mind.
"You don't speak or act like an angelic king."
"What do you expect me to be like?"
"Authoritative and Commanding like the Star King Pola."
"Ha, you think Pola is a good ruler just because he acts all stern and stuck up. That man is nothing short of scum bordering on the edge of falling into the darkness of Faravos. His twisted ideals are his only saving grace."
"Luna said something along the same lines."
"Those two hate each other with a passion, I'm not surprised," said Michael, laughing through his words like he was speaking to an old friend.
"Right," said Ratella, mystified by the whole situation between the two.
His earlier hostility and authority were nowhere to be seen; he was now speaking to Ratella as if he were a close friend.
Ratella had gained the Tyrant's respect.
"Ah, where are my manners? I have yet to introduce myself. I am Michael, the first of the Seraphim and the Ruler called Tyrant by the masses."
"I am Ratella Evergarden, the newly found Seraphim", stated Ratella, growing more comfortable in the presence of Michael, seeing him no longer as walking death.
"Yes, the newly found variable clouded in mystery. I've heard many things about you from Zafikel and a little from Luna. I'm glad to see your power wasn't a bluff from Luna to land a scratch upon me; it was most impressive."
Ratella's mood was slightly dampened by the lack of things Luna said about him to Michael.
"What did Luna say about me?" asked Ratella, prodding for more information about his beloved master.
"That you are a master swordsman for your age, and your skill with the lance is much like hers at your age. If you want to know what she says about you, ask Zafikel; she doesn't speak to me even when I'm free," stated Michael, unburdening himself from his fear of being inadequate.
"Why doesn't she speak to you?"
"I'm too much apparently, and we had a little spat a couple of centuries ago. Although I suspect she still hasn't gotten over it. I'm not too much at all, don't you agree?"
"No, you're okay," said Ratella, not reassuring the Tyrant one bit. "So when do I get my Edict?"
"When I open a portal to the Domain of the Primordial Light."
"And when is that?" asked Ratella, his feelings for the other two Seraphim not matching up with Michael.
To be honest, the boy edged toward the doorway, wanting to get away from the man, whose annoying personality and the ever-present sense of danger lingered in their conversations.
"I'll open it after I tell you what will happen for the next couple of days or weeks. First, you'll train with your Edict and watch my meetings with different members of the Choir. Second, the Primordial Light will give you a command, and you'll complete it. Simple."
Michael seemed quietly annoyed at his own behaviour, his eyebrow twitching under the strain of his emotions. Ratella eyed him curiously, watching as he pressed his fingers to his brow, trying to stop it from twitching.
Ratella stretched his wings outwards, presenting their majestic colouring directly toward the Tyrant. As he moved, a couple of stray feathers slipped free and fluttered to the ground.
He stooped to pick up the dropped feathers and, with ease, pressed them back into his wings, where they reattached naturally.
"You can reattach them? Odd, that's not something I can even do."
Michael, as if proving his point more to himself than Ratella, plucked one of his feathers and tried reattaching it, but had no luck in his attempts.
"Before you meet with the Primordial Light, I want you to have this mark your official entry into the Seraphim."
"Thank you," exclaimed Ratella. He held a lilac-and-silver ring engraved with words. He slipped the ring onto his finger without issue.
"TO BE SHIELDED IN LIGHT"
"Now go and meet with His Eminence," declared Michael, slashing downwards with his wings in an area devoid of any structures.
A shimmering white portal rose from the air, a low buzzing emanating from its form. The other side is unclear, obscured by swirling light, so he grips the armrest and glances at the Tyrant sitting beside him, forced to put his trust in him.