The woodland trail stretched before them like a question mark, twisting through autumn leaves that crunched beneath their feet. Eleanor walked in silence, her eyes fixed on the ground, watching her boots kick through fallen leaves her wings hung low behind her, almost dragging.
She couldn't stop seeing it. her mother's lifeless eyes. her father's final breath. The casual way Mariam had ended two lives like snuffing out candles.
"Eleanor"
Meredith's voice was gentle but Eleanor didn't look up.
"Yeah?"
"You've been quiet for the past hour. I know yesterday was...."Meredith paused choosing her words carefully. "It was hell. Do you want to talk about them? Your parents?
Eleanor's throat tightened. She could feel tears threatening again, and she was so tired of crying.
"Maybe later," she managed.
Meredith nodded and didn't push. The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable—it felt like understanding. Like someone who knew that sometimes words just made things worse.
They walked for another twenty minutes before the trees began to thin out, revealing a sprawling village ahead. Unlike Eleanor's cozy Sunridge, this place was built for space and comfort. Large houses sat on generous plots of land, connected by winding stone paths that curved between between well-tened gardens and small orchards.
"Welcome to Haven's Rest," Meredith said. "My home.:
Eleanor was about to respond when Meredith suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. The older angels entire body went rigid, her head tilted like a hunting dog catching a scent.
"What's wrong?" Eleanor started to ask, but then she smelled it too.
Blood. Fresh and metallic, carried on the evening breeze.
"Stay close," Meredith's voice had gone cold and professional gone was the gentle mentor from moments before, replaced by something harder. Dangerous.
They followed the scent to a small cabin at the village's edge. The door hung off its hinges, splintered into the house like breadcrumbs in a dark fairy tale.
Eleanor's stomach clenched. "Black Angel"
"And it's still here." Meredith raised her right hand and Eleanor watched in amazement as water seemed to condense from air itself forming into a crystalline blue staff that hummed with power "Stay behind me and do exactly as I say."
They stepped through the broken doorway.
The inside of the cabin looked like a slaughterhouse. Blood painted the walls in wild arcs, pooled on the wooden floor, dripped from overturned furniture, Eleanor covered her nose feeling the urge to vomit.
"Whoever lived here put up a fight," she whispered
"Not enough of one," Meredith replied grimly. "Black Angels don't leave survivors—"
CRASH!
The wall exploded inward in a shower of wood and plaster. Through the hole stepped a nightmare given form—a Black Angel, but unlike any Eleanor had imagined. He was massive, easily seven feet tall, with pale gray skin that looked like polished stone. His bare chest was carved with muscle, and his black wings spread wide enough to fill the room. But it was his smile that made Eleanor's blood freeze—too wide, too eager, like a child about to pull the wings off a butterfly.
"Well, Well, well" His voice was silk wrapped around broken glass. "More angels came to play with me."
His red eyes fixed on Meredith first sizing her up like a predator. Then they slid to Eleanor his grin widened.
"You..." He tilted his head, studying her with unsettling intensity. "There's something different about you, little angel. Your power... it's hidden, isn't it? Sealed away? He licked his lips "I wonder what you taste like when you scream.
Eleanor felt ice in her veins, but her anger burned hotter. "Tyr me and find out."
"Eleanor!" Meredith's warning came too late.
The Black Angel moved with inhuman speed crossing the room in a singe bound. Eleanor barely managed to throw herself sideways, his claws missing her throat by inches. She hit the floor hard rolling ash he spun to follow her movement.
Meredith was already in motion. She lunged forward, her staff crackling with blue energy as she struck. The weapon caught the Black Angel in the ribs with a sound like thunder, sending him stumbling backward through the hole he'd made.
"Stay down!" Meredith shouted to Eleanor as she vaulted through the opening in pursuit.
But Eleanor was already moving. She grabbed her axe from where it had fallen and followed them outside. The Black Angel recovered quickly, drawing twin daggers that gleamed with oily sheen. Poison, Eleanor realized with a chill.
"Let's dance, water witch," he snarled
He charged at Meredith, his blades weaving deadly patterns through the air. She met him head-on, her staff spinning in complex arcs that turned aside his strikes while sending jets of pressurized water at his face and chest.
Eleanor saw her opening. While the Black Angel was focused on Meredith's assault, she hefted her fathers axe and hurled it with all her strength.
The blade bit deep into his back with a wet thunk. The Black Angel's scream and rage shook the windows of the nearby house.
"You little bitch!" He spun around, yanking the axe free. Blood ran down his back in dark streams. "I'm going to peel your skin off strip by—"
A whip of water caught him across the face, snapping his head back. Meredith's eyes where glowing now, surrounded by a fierce blue aura that made the air around her shimmer.
She launched herself into the air, her wings beating once before she dove like a striking hawk. As she descended, she whispered something Eleanor couldn't catch—and suddenly tentacles of water erupted from the ground, wrapping around the Black Angel's arms and legs, holding him fast.
Meredith landed beside him, her staff already moving.
The first strike punched through his chest with a sound of breaking bones.
The second shattered his ribs.
The third and fourth came so fast they blurred together accompanied by Meredith's grunts of effort and fury.
Eleanor watched in fascination and horror. This wasn't the gentle mentor who'd offered her comfort on the trail. This was a killer, Methodical, relentless, her face twisted with battle-rage.
"Hey..." Eleanor steppe forward, placing a gentle hand on Meredith's shoulder, "I think he's dead."
Meredith froze mid strike, her staff raised for another blow. The glow faded from her eyes as she looked back at Eleanor, blinking as if walking from a dream.
They both looked down at the Black Angel's body. His torso was a ruin of broken bones and torn flesh his blood soaking the earth.
Meredith slowly straightened, breathing hard. Eleanor offered her hand helping her stand.
A long moment of silence passed between them.
"He didn't seem that strong," Eleanor said finally, trying to break the tension.
"He was stronger than you," Meredith replied bluntly. "But not stronger than me. If I hadn't been here, he would have killed you. Slowly."
Eleanor felt a chill at the certainty in her voice. "You really think so?"
"I know so. Black Angels come in different strengths. This one was mid-tier—not the weakest, but far from the strongest. And right now, you're nowhere near ready to face even the weak ones alone."
Eleanor wanted to argue, but the truth was hard to deny. She'd barely managed to dodge his first attack, and now her throwing the axe only worked because he was distracted.
"So what now?" she asked.
Meredith's expression grew serious. "Now we unlock your sun powers."
Eleanor blinked. "How did you know I had sun powers? I mean, you're a water user, but there's something different about you, isn't there?"
Meredith let out a soft laugh. "I'm not that special. All Ascendant-rank guards learn to sense hidden powers. It's part of our training in Divine Arts.
"Divine Arts?" Eleanor frowned. "I've never heard of that."
"Most angels haven't. Only those trained to kill gods directly learn them. Divine Arts are our answer ro a goddess' Divine Authority—the power that makes them nearly invincible."
"So your Divine Art is water manipulation?
"Hydrokinesis to be exact...and yours..."Meredith studied Eleanor carefully. "if I had to guess it's Sunfire. The same power your mother had."
Eleanor's heart skipped a beat. "Mom could use sunfire? And you're saying I inherited it?"
"Yes. And that's exactly why Mariam killed her. Gods fear Sun Angels more than any other type—we're the most capable of breaking through their defenses. But your power is still sealed away, probably has been since birth."
Understanding dawned on Eleanor like a cold sunrise. "That's why Mariam didn't kill me. She couldn't sense what I really was."
"Exactly. But now we need to make sure you're ready for when she finds out."
Meredith's backyard was a wide, flat field surrounded by tall oak trees. Perfect for training—plenty of space to move, to fall, and to bleed without disturbing the neighbors.
Meredith turned to face Eleanor, and her expression had shifted again. Gone was any trace of gentleness or sympathy. This was the face of a warrior, cold and focused.
"Come at me."
"What?"
"Attack me. Now. Don't think about it, just do it."
Eleanor hesitated for only a moment before picking up her axe and charging forward. She swung in a wide arc, putting all her strength behind the blow.
CLANG!
Meredith's staff intercepted the axe easily, then twisted in a move that sent Eleanor's weapon spinning away. Before Eleanor could react, Meredith's foot caught her in the ribs, knocking her backward onto the grass.
"Too slow. Too obvious. You telegraphed that attack from a mile away."
Eleanor groaned, pushing herself up. "How is getting beaten up going to unlock my sun powers?"
"Unlocking Divine Arts takes time and the right trigger. First, I need to see what you're working with—your instincts, your reflexes, your breaking point."
"But I only have three weeks until the Trials!"
"Eleanor." Meredith's voice cut like a blade. "Divine Arts don't come from desperation or impatience. They come from discipline, training, and pushing past your limits. Now stop complaining and try again."
Eleanor glared at her but picked up the axe. This time she tried to be less predictable, feinting left before attacking from the right.
Meredith was already behind her.
A kick to her stomach doubled her over. A sharp strike between her shoulder blades sent her face-first into the dirt.
"Better," Meredith said as Eleanor spat out grass and soil. "At least you tried to fake me out. But you're still thinking too much. Combat isn't a chess game—it's instinct."
Eleanor pushed herself up, her arms shaking with exhaustion. But her eyes burned with determination.
"Again," she panted.
Meredith smiled for the first time since the training began. "Good. That's the spirit I wanted to see. But that's enough for today. Tomorrow, we train for real."
As they walked back toward the house, the sky darkening overhead, Eleanor couldn't shake the feeling that her old life—the quiet, safe life of a tea shop worker—was already a distant memory.
Now she was something else. Something harder.
She just had to figure out what.