"I have an opportunity for you." Phanuel said, his frame towered over Jonah, his immaculate bronze armor shamed Jonah's soot covered robes. "Instead of serving the rest of your sentence here... you may enlist in His Father's Service, and if you succeed, your past criminal deeds will be forgiven." Jonah had found himself in the 'care' of Mitzrael, the divine forge master, after he attempted to steal from Metatron's study. The sentence was lenient but rather fair: two years of penance. Jonah was to toil in the forge, smelting bronze in the sweltering furnaces with the other angels who had been in need of penance. Long days gave way to short nights. It was arduous, grueling work made thankless by Mitzrael's sadistic expectations. He would often use corporal punishment to correct any of his wards, should they not meet his very high standards. A single air bubble in a bronze bar would earn a whipping.
"Yes!" the words were out of Jonah's mouth before his mind could even process what Phanuel had offered, he had stopped any real consideration after hearing that he could escape the grunge and the grime of his sentence any earlier than he previously would be allowed.
Over the next few weeks, Jonah began his training as a junior cadet in His Father's Service. He trained with Raphael, the oldest and most decorated Archangel in the Service, but after failing miserably several times at the physical aptitude tests required to begin Archangel training, as he had originally planned, his instructor recommended a change of course: gathering. He had also managed to reconnect with a childhood friend he hadn't seen since his sentence began, Asmodel - now also a junior cadet. As had not been forced to join the Service, his father had insisted.
After his decision to change paths, As joined him in pursuit of gathering, eager to carve a new path for himself independent of his father's legacy. In addition to a more rudimentary version of Raphael's combat drills, Jonah and As now studied under Samael, the foremost authority on gathering - having invented the practice millennia ago.
"Today is our final demonstration." Samael said plainly as he lifted a small rose bush onto a stone slab. "by the Sabbath you'll have graduated from my tutelage to a more hands-on experience with Seraphiel." Jonah wasn't shocked, he knew at the beginning of Samael's instructions that he and the other cadets only had a few weeks to prepare for their first gathering, he was excited, ready to prove himself useful at something. Jonah felt an elbow stick into his ribs. He looked to his right to see As, clearly excited at the prospect of real-world gathering experience as well. Still, Jonah wondered why Samael had instructed all of them to meet in his garden instead of the usual place, he saw the rose bush that now lie on the stone slab but couldn't seem to relate it to gathering. His lessons with Samael up until today included tales of faithful humans, flocks of them, rushing into the streets when the angels of old appeared at the gates of their cities. They would bow and kneel and beg for the angels to take their offerings - their souls - for God. It also included small infusions of knowledge by Metatron, the former scribe of God, as to how life on Earth would appear to them upon their arrival.
Jonah and As joined about a dozen other cadets in Samael's garden. The garden was immaculate, up-kept by Samael himself, a retirement hobby. Towering trellises wrapped in flowering vines bordered a large open grass area at the center and created a natural privacy wall around the cadets.
Jonah felt apprehensive but excited about his impending pilgrimage to Earth, few angels could make that journey nowadays since the firmament had been closed off. The journey was now exclusive only to those for whom the energy could be spared for a worthy cause, like gathering. They were permitted to bypass the barrier and go down to realm of humanity. Metatron had granted knowledge to the cadets by transferring the content of a few of his scrolls directly to their consciousness. The knowledge was basic: languages, nations, politics, religious beliefs, and so on. Jonah had little need for the knowledge given to him during the lessons because Metatron had previously given him much more: scrolls upon scrolls of first-hand accounts of life below and living amongst humans, their culture, their entertainment, their food (taste being only a vague concept to Jonah), and his favorite, their music.
"Today I will show you how to properly handle a soul..." Samael said, a distant look in his eyes. "Gathering is the most important task an angel can undertake. It keeps the Kingdom sustained, and most importantly, it will facilitate Our Father's grand return." He said this almost monotonously, as if he had given this speech a hundred times before. His ancient eyes then snapped from their distant gaze to a vivid look at the cadets, slowly scanning them from left to right. "The gatherings will allow us to restore order." He said this slowly and deliberately, pausing his gaze on each of the cadets with every word punctuated. He spoke to them as if they were children, but to be a cadet, you had to reach the age of maturity. Perhaps, to Samael, everyone was a child. He was the oldest angel to ever live, born over seven thousand years ago. His age was visible on his face; deep wrinkle lines indented his forehead like canyons, his eyes had become a dull gray, a long white beard fell from his mouth and reached midway down his chest, the hair above it was sparse. He forwent the typical bronze armor of a military instructor and opted for a much more comfortable light gray robe cinched at the waist with a band of bronze. According to Metatron, Samael had once been a "reaper", but that knowledge was forbidden, so Jonah had no idea what that phrase meant, 'something similar to a gatherer?' he had thought.
"Humans are fragile and weak" began Samael, his aged hand now cradled the petals of a white rose. "Like this rose..." he took the delicate flower in his hand and pulled it firmly from the bush. "and like humans, this rose too has a soul." Jonah was confused 'if roses, flowers, grass, all of it, had souls, then why did we need to go down to Earth to collect humans'?' He wanted to ask Samael, but he didn't want to interrupt the man's demonstration. "I have explained how to gather a human soul, but since there are obviously none here, this flower will have to suffice for a demonstration."
Samael laid his palm on the center of the rose's bloom. "Souls are fickle things" he began, his long fingers cupping the rose, "pure primordial energy from God himself..." as Samael closed his eyes gently, the rose began to faintly glow as if illuminated from within. "and as his humble servants - his emissaries to the mortal realm - we can manipulate them." He pulled his hand up from the rose, with it came up an orb of dazzling light the size of a marble. He held the flower's soul in front of him so that all the cadets could see. "we can return to God to His Kingdom and return His Kingdom to God..." He began to close his fist around the soul, and as its light disappeared behind his fingers, the rose began to shrivel, its color withering from bright white to a dull, dry brown... dead.
"Now, your turn." Samael produced another, living rose bush on top of the table in front of him. He picked up a pair of shears and snipped off the flowers, one for each cadet. He placed one rose in each of their hands, including Jonah's. The blood red rose's delicate petals curled in his left hand. "Take your other hand and feel." Samael next instructed, somewhat vaguely. Jonah exhaled, hovering his right hand over the rose in his left. 'feel... feel what?'
"Inside each flower there is a soul, a soul for you to gather." Samael paced up and down the line of his cadets, assessing their progress. "Feel the energy, the spark of the soul." Jonah closed his eyes and pictured the rose in his mind, he extended his fingertips and for a second he felt the sharp jolt of static. A small spark of life deep inside the cradle of petals. "Good..." Samael continued, almost sensing Jonah's realization. "Now, guide the spark out with your will." Jonah concentrated again on the rose, the spark. He imagined himself grabbing hold of the luminous orb like he had seen Samael do. He rotated his palm, almost to adjust his grip. He felt another shock of static and a beating heart as he pulled his hand away from the rose. Jonah cautiously opened his eyes and saw it: the rose's delicate, tiny soul hovered above his right hand, pulsing with pure life. The longer the soul was separate from the rose, the quicker Jonah could see it wither and die. It's supple petals turned from velvet to crumpled paper, dry and deteriorating. "Now, take the soul into yourself; close your hand around it." Jonah did as he was instructed and slowly, carefully closed his hand into a loose fist around the orb. As his fist closed, Jonah felt a rush of pure power, pure light. He had never felt something exactly like this before, it felt as if an infusion of energy had been injected straight to his heart, and he supposed it had.
Jonah decided to ask the question he had thought of earlier as it would not leave his mind. "Sir?" he said with a light, inquisitive voice.
"Jonah?" recognized Samael, hand still outstretched.
"Why can't we live off of plants' souls? Doesn't a trip to the Earth and back take up more energy than a human soul can provide?" Jonah asked in a voice that grew quieter as he went further into his question, getting the sense that he had asked something with an obvious answer that he should have known.
"A plant's soul contains almost no energy." Samael informed, "life isn't the source of a soul's power, it is emotion. Plants don't feel, they don't think. God gave that gift to humans. The only power a plant's soul contains is its spark of life, which doesn't provide the energy we need to sustain ourselves." Though the answer was obvious to Samael, he knew the concept could be hard to understand for those not as old or as weathered as he was. "Jonah's question brings me to my next point: emotions." Samael's face grew serious "Emotions are poison to the mind, we must be able to compartmentalize our own thoughts from the emotions and the memories that will be absorbed into ourselves from the human souls we gather. If we do not, we could go mad!" Samael spoke as if he had seen this firsthand, and given his age he probably had. "Over the years, our empaths have been able to develop subtle ways of barricading gatherer's minds, making us able to prioritize the greater good of our Holy mission over the temporary strife of a human's soul. A life on Earth is merely a flicker in time in the grand scheme of the Kingdom of God, and we must not allow it to distort our sense of purpose."
'contains almost no energy', Jonah couldn't imagine what a human soul would feel like, how much raw energy it contained in its glowing sphere, if what he had just experienced was 'almost no energy' he was excited but also anxious about what a lot of energy would feel like.
Another cadet to Jonah's right - a girl whose name he couldn't remember - spoke up. "Is it possible to gather another Angel's soul?" Samael went quiet, thinking carefully of how he could word his answer. He wanted to be as clear and as blunt as possible.
"It is possible. But an angel's soul is so volatile... dangerous that it should never be attempted!" Samael made sure to put emphasis on the word 'never'. This question somewhat shocked Jonah, he had never really thought of himself as having a soul. Of course he must have a soul, everything endowed with life had one, but he couldn't picture it. In his mind's eye Jonah tried to imagine Samael leaning over him, palm on his forehead, pulling out his soul and crushing it. This thought made Jonah uneasy. The entire concept of gathering wasn't the most appealing profession to Jonah, but being a warrior was out of the question given his slim frame and weak stature, so gatherer it was, anything but manual labor in the forge.
After Samael dismissed his cadets for a final time, Jonah and As left the garden together. They were bunkmates in the cadets' quarters, their friendship had continued as if it had never been ceased by Jonah's incarceration. They kept each other sharp, each boy trying to outdo the other, Jonah wasn't normally so competitive but As seemed to bring that trait out in whoever he was close to, his braggadocio didn't help with that either.
"I wish I could have gone on that mission with Michael", complained As "I can't believe it was only for senior cadets!" Jonah pushed open the large wooden doors that separated Samael's garden from the rest of the city center. The city of Beulah was the only home any angel had ever known, a sprawling city in the sky. Humans would call it "heaven" but that was not accurate, Jonah was taught as a child that Beulah was simply a midway point between the lands of the mortal and divine.
"Maybe Michael thought you were too good for him", replied Jonah, sarcastically, his hand blocking his face from the sunlight startling his vision.
"Or maybe he thought he'd take all the glory for himself..." pouted As, the previous sarcasm going right through him. "Fucking seniors.. instead we're stuck training with whoever Seraphiel is..."
"Maybe it'll be quieter", posited Jonah, "I heard Michael's was some kind of hunt or counteroffensive, that sounds way too dangerous." The boys entered the moderate crowds of the city center, busy around midday.
"Yeah, who would want any danger?" muttered As sarcastically under his breath as they neared their next destination: Raphael's combat drills.
They continued down the cobblestone road leading to the grand Military District, Jonah thought about Michael. He hadn't seen him since... he couldn't remember when. Back when they were younger, he guessed. Jonah, As, and Michael were almost inseparable when they were children, it seemed so distant, as if separated by universes rather than time. Their parents had all been warriors and friends, but after Jonah's father died he was forced to relocate to the central district for private tutoring, Jonah had lost touch with Michael and barely kept up contact with As. Jonah remembered the three of them sparring and wrestling in the central district's large reflecting pool, As' father was mortified at his son's conduct. Jonah hoped that once Michael returned from whatever mission he had been assigned, he could get some leave and they could all do something together again. Jonah knew As wanted that even more than he did. As and Michael had rekindled their friendship while Jonah was gone, so much so that Jonah got the feeling As saw him as more of a big brother than a friend.
Life as an angel cadet offered little reprieve. For as peaceful as things in Beulah were, you'd have thought there was constant civil war or a fearsome army encircling them for as much as Raphael drilled his cadets. Raphael was the exact opposite of Samael, while both were weathered and old, Raphael chose to express that age and subsequent experience with military regalia, all of his accolades were displayed proudly on the front of his always-polished bronze breastplate, which he wore at all times.
"Shields up!" commanded Raphael. Jonah and the other cadets assumed a sturdy defensive stance, legs shoulder-length apart and knees half bent. Jonah held the lightweight circular bronze shield in front of his chest and lower face, just low enough so that he could see past it, but high enough that he could adjust the shield's position quickly to protect his upper head. Raphael limped to face the cadets at the center of their line. His stern, scarred face examining his cadets. Wordlessly, He lifted his bronze staff that doubled as a walking stick and conjured a single bolt of electricity at the cadet to Jonah's right. The bolt struck the cadet in the forehead, his shield had been too low and he was unable to bring it upwards fast enough. 'Almost made that mistake...' thought Jonah.
"Fuck!" shouted the cadet, trying to get back to his feet.
"Control your emotions and admit to me that your stance was poor." Said Raphael sternly. Even though a previous battle had taken Raphael's eyesight, his perception was second to none, he could detect the slightest weakness in an enemy just by the sound of their breath or the beat of their heart.
"Yes, sir" said the cadet, "my shield was too low and my legs were too far apart, I'm sorry."
"I don't need an apology" began Raphael, his sightless gaze swept from one side of the line to the other as he spoke, "I need proper soldiers!" he boomed, he then aimed his staff at As, who's stance was impeccable. A larger bolt of lightning shot from the head of his staff, it crackled through the air. As raised the shield to cover his face just as the bolt connected with the center of his shield. As pushed back on his shield against the energy from the bolt, his feet stayed planted solidly on the ground. Jonah took a deep breath, he wasn't as strong as the other cadets, especially not As. The lightning ceased and Raphael wordlessly trained his staff on the cadet to As' right. Jonah sighed, relieved that it was not his turn yet. Raphael's head snapped directly towards Jonah, sensing his fleeting moment of relief. Raphael swung his staff and unleashed another bolt of lightning, this time at Jonah. Jonah winced as his moved his shield swiftly to cover his face. He felt the bolt impact his shield, and though he tried to keep his feet planted in the correct stance, the force was too much and he felt himself get swept to the ground. The shield had absorbed the lightning, but its sheer power had been too much for Jonah's slim frame. Jonah leapt back to his feet, knowing he would be admonished for losing his stance.
"Good recovery." Said Raphael, "but don't ever let your guard down, not even for a sigh of relief..." 'of course he noticed...' thought Jonah
"Still sore from falling on your ass?" asked As, a smirk on his face. Jonah and As once again walked together after their rigorous training.
"I'm just sore in general" replied Jonah "After working for Mitzrael I think I'm just perpetually sore now."
"My father fought alongside Mitzrael, he's definitely a hard ass". As replied, smacking Jonah on the back seemingly just to exacerbate his soreness. As always mentioned his father, he was very proud of the prestige he had earned during the old wars and never missed an opportunity to bring him up. "Still, I'd rather be covered in ash from the forge than dust from all of Metatron's gross old scrolls."
"It is dusty in there..." Jonah muttered in agreement, "but he actually respects me, and I happen to like reading those scrolls! Your dad's name has come up a few times in accounts from the war." As' eyebrows raised and a small smile came to his face. For as difficult and stubborn as he could be, Jonah found As' smile amusing and liked being the cause of its appearance. It looked like his face wasn't used to contorting that way, a smirk was his usual limit, making the other half of his mouth match was a rarity.
"I wrote to Michael before he left, he said he'd put in a good word for us next time, and he said he'd be our chaperone for our first scouting mission!" As shouted at Jonah as they went their separate ways, As had some downtime before curfew but Jonah had agreed to meet Metatron again, he was teaching Jonah the ropes of being a scribe, which is what Jonah actually wanted to do after he left the Service. Jonah would study the language on the thousands and thousands of scrolls, Enochian, and try to use those characters to write his own accounts, he knew he could also count on Metatron for some unsolicited advice on his burgeoning military career, but after Metatron forgave him for his attempted theft, he owed him at least an ear to his advice.