Jonah awoke from his bed to find himself directly seated on a wooden bench. He tried to regain his bearings. He had just been fast asleep in his bunk, As had been snoring below him but now As was nowhere to be seen. Next to him sat Muriel, her face was sullen, eyes red as if she had been crying. He looked around to where he heard indistinct chatter, He was in the back row of a completely wooden octagonal room, the wood that comprised every surface was dark cherry. The floor consisted entirely of descending tiers of built-in wooden benches, each stacked row nestled inside the last, the octagons of benches getting smaller and smaller until they reached a small platform big enough for only one person. He looked up, the ceiling was made of wooden slats that emanated out from a hollow skylight in the very center, its octagon shape directly mirrored the single platform below. The ceilings were cramped back where Jonah was sitting, if he were to stand, he would hit his head. One thing alarmed him more than everything else, however; there was no discernable exit. Every wall that flanked the octagon was made of solid horizontal wooden planks, no doors and no windows save for the skylight.
The room had just a moment ago been empty except for he and Muriel, but as he blinked, it became completely full of hooded figures. They wore black or gray robes, their faces completely obstructed. Jonah sat back, he looked over to Muriel but she too was now wearing a black hood, she turned her head to face him, smiled, and turned her attention to the center of the room. Jonah saw that all the hooded figures had trained their focus on a new figure standing in the center platform. He was a portly man with pale skin and thinning hair... Metatron. He looked sad, like Muriel had, eyes dark and sunken, mouth downturned into a slight, sorrowful frown. Metatron's eyes looked up to meet Jonah's... his demeanor was alarming, Jonah had never seen the usually jovial man very sad before, let alone like this.
"What's happening?" asked Jonah, he felt delirious and claustrophobic, as if the wooden room was contracting in on him.
"You did this to me, Jonah." Metatron stated with almost no emotion in his voice. "Why couldn't you have just kept your mouth shut... or better yet, died like your father?"
Jonah was dumbfounded, he knew Metatron would never speak to him like this; cruel and sadistic... 'a dream... this has to be dream!' Jonah screamed in his mind, hoping to jolt himself awake from this bizarre scene. "What did I do to you?" replied Jonah.
"This." With that single emotionless word, Metatron erupted into holy fire, he didn't scream, didn't move, didn't even close his eyes. Jonah grabbed for Muriel, grasping at her shoulders, she turned sharply at him.
"Sit back down!" she commanded, her voice echoed with the voices of all the hooded men in the room. Jonah did as she said and sat down, paralyzed. He watched as the last smoldering ashes of Metatron were lifted into the air and blown out the skylight. He turned his head around, he was now one row closer to the middle, he hadn't moved yet he'd been brought to the next descending tier. A new figure then appeared in the center: it was As.
"As!" screamed Jonah, he tried to arise from his bench but he had no command over his body, his legs remained affixed to the floor. "As! Help!" Jonah screamed, but none of the cloaked men even noticed. As turned his head directly to face Jonah's.
"You're going to get us all killed. Is that what you want?" As, like Metatron, spoke in a monotone, emotionless voice.
"I don't want anyone to die!" screamed Jonah, arguing with his own mind in a dream...
"You let your father die." Smirked As, he looked up to the skylight, "Michael was my friend, you let him die too, I could've saved him..." As trailed off. Jonah just watched, tears flowing from his eyes as holy fire began engulfing As, he was silent.
"Fucking stop!" Jonah shrieked, he buried his head in his hands, trying desperately to wake up, "Fucking wake up!" he shouted into is palms. He felt his neck move without his input, his hands came away from his face, revealing to Jonah a third victim in the center of the room, and he was another row closer.
Michael stood with his back to Jonah. "As should have been an archangel. He could've protected me." Michael spoke, a thousand-yard stare on his face. The room then shifted, yet nothing changed except Michael was now staring directly at Jonah. Michael's eyes were dead white. His mouth dripping blood. "They found me in a gutter, just like Phanuel said... because As wasn't there... he felt so sorry for you that he became a gatherer too just to make you feel better."
"That's not fucking true!" screamed Jonah.
"Now I'm dead too and As hates you for it." Michael's words cut like a bright red knife. Jonah screamed in anger at his mind's version of Michael, as he screamed his throat hoarse, Michael laughed, holy fire beginning to ignite at his feet. Jonah clenched his eyes shut but he could feel the heat against his face, the sweat it produced on his brow mixing with his tears and dripping off his chin.
Jonah opened his eyes, he saw that he was now standing in the middle of the room. Around him were dozens of black cloaked men and women, now some had their faces visible, he saw Muriel, Sera, Phan, Samael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Barachiel. Sat next to Gabriel was a man that Jonah couldn't identify, the space above his neck was a swirling vortex of features, unable to form itself into a face.
"Dad?" Jonah said weakly. He didn't know why he thought this... it just seemed correct in his mind.
"Pathetic." Said the man... "Such a disappointment... a waste."
Jonah began to weep, he didn't know what else to do, he hung his head and wept.
"When we are who we are called to be!" Jonah heard a symphony of voices chant in unison, their voices coalescing into a single roar. He opened his eyes to see the man who might be his father surrounded by men and women wearing blood-red robes, heads bent downwards. "We will set the world ablaze!" Their chorus continued, Jonah looked down to see fire begin to ignite out of the ashes of Metatron, As, and Michael. Jonah snapped his head back to the robed figures, their infernal gazes now directed straight at Jonah, faceless, featureless, crimson hooded monsters encircled him. The empaths began to reach out their vile, inhuman hands as Jonah tried to clench his eyes shut, but couldn't. Jonah screamed as the flames coiled and constricted his body like a cobra. He suddenly felt weightless.
"Fuck!" Jonah screamed. He shot straight up in his bunk, grasping at the sheets and pillow, trying to make sure his surroundings were genuine.
"Jonah?" a familiar voice was like music to Jonah's ears: As. He looked down to see his friend glancing back up at him from the bunk below, confused. "You okay?"
"I-I don't know." Jonah felt his sheets, they were drenched with sweat. "I... had a nightmare..." He was almost ashamed at his outburst, it hadn't been real. He found it hard but Jonah got down from his bunk, his knees weak, still recovering from the horrible dream and the tremors it had left within his body.
"It'll be okay, come on, we've got to get ready for Sera's last lecture." As said, he then slapped Jonah on the back, his scrawny frame drenched in sweat. "Oh, gross, you need to go to the baths."
...
Today was Seraphiel's final lesson before she would begin taking the cadets two at a time on their first gatherings. Jonah felt mentally exhausted from his dream, he just wanted to start gathering and be finished with Sera's harsh 'methods'. He sat, as was usual, next to As.
"You sure you're ok?" whispered As, "You look like shit!"
"Thanks," Jonah chuckled, 'leave it to As and his smartass attitude to make me feel better' he thought. "Yeah, I'm ok... do you want to meet up after drills?"
"Sure!" replied As, "we can go to the baths, relax a little... a reward for not getting our heads bitten off by Sera these last few days."
'Speak of the devil and she shall appear:" Sera burst through the gates, her stride purposeful and exact. The cadets' postures straightened to attention. "I apologize for yesterday's absence." Began Sera, "I trust Phanuel was able to get through my lesson." The class silently nodded in unison. "Good. Today is your final lesson. By this time tomorrow, two of you will be on your first gathering." Sera motioned towards Muriel and a male cadet sitting next to her, "Muriel, Shamsiel." Jonah made a mental note of the other cadet's name, he wasn't the best at remembering names. "The two of you will be first, you will be accompanied by myself and Phanuel to a pre-selected gathering target tomorrow at the ninth hour."
"Yes sir!" Muriel and Shamsiel said in unison.
"Before that, however, I will cover the basic protocols regarding... unforeseen changes in mission parameters." Sera glanced at the cadets, it may have been in Jonah's head, but he could've sworn she lingered her intimidating glance on him longer than the others. "As you know, we cannot be seen by humans during the ninth hour until we make physical contact with them. In the event of accidental contact, you must either immediately gather them to prevent them from alerting other humans or, if this is not possible, you must exfiltrate immediately and abandon the mission." Sera's voice was serious, her brow clenched. "The number one rule of a lion gathering is that you must never be seen. If you are seen, you put the entire mission and everyone on it in jeopardy..." Sera sighed, "I suppose you've all heard by now about the loss of Michael and Penemue – the reason for my absence yesterday – and you must understand that while their mission as archangels was very different from ours as gatherers, they allowed themselves to be seen, this is why they were killed." Jonah could feel As tense up... "There are those who will do us harm... it is imperative that we do not allow them the chance."
"The final protocol is the most important." Jonah zoned out for a moment, 'this is why they were killed...' Sera's words brought back the now faint memory of his dream, he was able to dismiss most of the accusations thrown at him by Metatron and As in his own mind, but one of them wasn't so easy: Did As only become a gatherer because he felt sorry for Jonah? If he would've been an archangel, could he have helped Michael? Worst of all was 'Michael's' attack: 'he hates you for it...' Jonah knew that As didn't hate him... did he? Jonah couldn't shake the self-doubt that had begun to accumulate in his mind like sand collecting at the bottom of an hourglass, weighing down his thoughts. 'Maybe I'll ask him later... I don't know...'
"...leave them!" Sera's heightened tone snapped Jonah out of his head and back into the moment. "If it is at all feasible to retrieve them, then by all means do so. But if it could result in your own death or capture, or the death or capture of another cadet, you must leave them!" Jonah was shocked... leave them? He wondered what he knew As was wondering as well... had Turiel left Michael and Penemue behind? "Do not hesitate, you must put the mission first and your emotions second, the alterations made by the Empath earlier this week should help you overcome this emotional hurdle." Jonah found this logic troubling... he couldn't imagine leaving As behind if he got hurt or captured on a mission... captured by what he still didn't know... but he wouldn't leave him, or Muriel, or Shamsiel, any of the other cadets either. He didn't even know most of their names... but he knew he couldn't leave someone behind like that.
Jonah left the courtyard after the lesson without more than a nod to Sera, he would see her soon enough for the first gathering and then he hoped not to see her much again. He knew Metatron wanted to meet with him before his first gathering, but he needed to relax with As after drills, so he decided to put it off until tomorrow, while Muriel and Shamsiel were gone with Sera.
"In battle, you may face an enemy that is stronger than you, faster than you, more adept than you" began Raphael, "It is inevitable. Most of us have undoubtedly read the epic stories about great battles in our past; the Battle of Jericho, of Gomorrah... those stories, while mostly true, are a bit fanciful." Raphael straightened out a medallion that was pinned to his bronze armor, "I am the authority on these things because, well, I was there." Jonah wondered what each medallion signified, he counted seven medals: four blue ribbons with golden trim, one green, and two red. He knew that the blue ones signified a major campaign victory, Jericho and Gomorrah, he assumed, were two. "The stories you've heard are told from a broad perspective, they depict vast armies as if they were ants, drones simply following a hive-mind's orders, not individual soldiers with individual strengths and weaknesses. When in truth, every single battle is decided not by massive amounts of ants clashing against each other, killing as many as possible, but by each individual warrior making the most of their own potential. When a formation like the phalanx breaks down and full melee ensues, you must be prepared not to act as a cohesive unit anymore, but as an independent soldier."
Raphael pointed his staff at a female cadet that Jonah didn't know, her face looked worried when she realized his gesture was at her. "Ieshim, step forward." The girl, apparently named 'Ieshim', walked and stood opposite to Raphael in the sparring area. "In battle, it is easy to get overwhelmed, but if you focus on each single enemy you confront as an individual rather than as a manifestation of their army, you will be able to use their weaknesses against them. Tell me, cadet, what is one of my weaknesses?"
Ieshim gulped, not wanting to offend or anger Raphael, "um... y-your eyesight?"
"Correct." Stated Raphael, "At first glance, an opponent would try to use that against me, perhaps by using stealth or silence. Cadet!" Ieshim stood at attention, "draw your sword and attempt to use my weakness against me..." She unsheathed her bronze training sword from her belt and entered a sparring stance. She gripped the sword with both hands and began to walk a circle around Raphael, making her footfalls as light as possible, Raphael's sightless eyes stared at where Ieshim had started, seemingly unaware that she had now made it almost behind him. Once she believed she was in an adequate position, she swung her blade, before it could connect, Raphael lurched his staff backwards, its head knocking her sword away. Her stance didn't falter, she leapt back, landing gracefully on both feet. "Very good" congratulated Raphael, "If I had been a normal, inexplicably blind solider, you would've impaled me. But considering my rank, this was not a fair demonstration, that is why I would like you to pair off into duos and do as we just did; assess each other's weaknesses. Try to exploit them. And when you've finished, tell each other what your assessments revealed, you must be aware of how others perceive your faults in order to correct them."
Jonah was paired with Shamsiel, they entered a sparring area adjacent to the other cadets. Jonah quickly began assessing his opponent: shorter than him. More muscular. As they circled around each other, preparing for the other to strike first, he noticed Shamsiel was slower than him. 'Just like As', he thought. The same way he was able to nimbly outmaneuver As, he was certain he could take advantage of Shamsiel's build, height, and speed to land an effective strike first.
Shamsiel struck first, he lowered into a crouching stance and began charging at Jonah, shield in front of him. Jonah hopped to his left, Shamsiel held his shield in his left hand, so his right side was more open. As he went to strike at the opening he had seemingly created, Shamsiel smirked and swung his sword with great force right at Jonah, he had clearly anticipated Jonah using his superior speed against him. Jonah managed to evade the strike, landing a bit awkwardly on his feet. He returned to his stance and readied for the next strike, he knew he had to act first this time. Jonah had an idea. He lunged at Shamsiel, aiming his blade to his own left, Shamsiel shifted his heavier weight to avoid the strike, swinging his sword around in return, Jonah blocked it, locking their swords together as they stood side by side. Jonah realized his mistake, but before he could fully adjust, Shamsiel used his brute strength to bash his shoulder into Jonah, which sent him stumbling backwards, Shamsiel then swung his weapon back at Jonah, who managed to barely block it.
"Shit!" Jonah muttered as he got back into a stance. Shamsiel smirked. Jonah thought to himself, trying to envision a new strategy... he had it! Jonah once again made the first move, rushing at Shamsiel, who scoffed as he blocked Jonah's first quick stab with ease. Jonah lunged at him, same as his last attempt, but this time when Shamsiel sidestepped his attack, Jonah was ready. Shield in hand, Jonah knocked it into the back of Shamsiel's left knee.
"Oh!" Shamsiel exclaimed as he felt his knee buckle from behind, instinctively breaking his fall with his shield bearing hand, Jonah rotated back to a standing position where he tapped the tip of his sword against Shamsiel's back and held it there. "Well, shit." Shamsiel laughed as he got up with a hand from Jonah. "So, what were my weaknesses?"
"Oh, um..." Jonah began, still in a little bit of disbelief that his plan actually worked, "Well, I noticed that you were a little shorter than me, a lot more muscular, which means a little slower." Shamsiel nodded with each entry, "And... I noticed the first time you blocked my lunge, your left knee was wobbly, you came out of your stance just a little." Shamsiel looked bewildered that Jonah had noticed his knee.
"Well, damn..." Shamsiel said, "The only thing I noticed was how scrawny you are, and that I could probably overpower you, guess all that muscle missing from your arms went to your brain instead!" they laughed a little before they shook hands, the customary way to close out a sparring match – if nobody passed out beforehand – and Jonah went on his way with As.