Ennanis didn’t want to get up.

Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the sleeping quarters, casting dazzling bars over the sky-blue bunks within. The bunks were long emptied of their owners, save for her, who remained surrounded by a haphazard mess of thin sheets and the bundle of blanket at the foot of the bed. Her pink hair pooled beneath her, suffused by the sweat of several days and nights.

It had been one week since she had been discharged from the infirmary. Her body no longer ached as much, but Ennanis would have lain there for many weeks longer—had she not had an appointment today.

Finally, grudgingly, she chose to rouse. Tentatively, she unfurled her wings through the gap in the back of her uniform.

…A wince.

She glanced at her bedside table, in hopes that it had somehow disappeared in the time she had been wilfully ignoring it. But the letter remained there, tucked in the fold of an opened envelope. Its bright red seal glared at her, as if its sender knew that she was tarrying.

Sighing, she swiped the letter off the table and shoved it into her pocket.

Carefully, Ennanis climbed down the ladder of the bunk and made her way to the shared bathroom. After her shower, she changed into a new set of uniform, securing her grey belt at the waist. She brushed the worst of the kinks out of her hair. Then, she stood in front of the marble sink, staring at her reflection for a long moment.

She leaned back. With a flick of her hand, a small tube slid out of the common cupboard. Soleki beads clung to its circumference, levitating it into the air. SUNSORB - PREMIUM SUN ABSORBER, the tube read.

The angel began to daub some on her face. She frowned, then daubed some more—but her complexion remained as ashen as it was before. With a sigh, she screwed the cap back on and waved the tube back to the shelf.

Then, taking a deep breath, she headed out.

It was already afternoon when Ennanis left the quarters. The mess hall was a sprawling structure tucked against the side of the mountain, which allowed for the kitchens to use the hot gases billowing from cracks in the rockface to power their stoves. Excess gas pumped out steadily through the chimneys, the fumes churning the fierce rays of the midday sun.

A portly, uniformed lady sat in a window adjacent to the entrance, scribbling something on a sheet. When Ennanis reached, she gave her a look.

“Lunch is closed,” said the lady.

“There’s still fifteen minutes to three,” replied Ennanis.

The lady’s scribbling ceased. She put down her pen and leaned forward through the window.

“I said, lunch is closed, darling,” the lady repeated. She slowed her words deliberately, as if speaking to a child. “I know how you are, Zoleil, but just because you’re a commander doesn’t mean you can disobey rules.”

It was just then, that hurried footsteps sounded from behind Ennanis. At her side, another angel ran up, huffing and puffing. He was in an obviously dishevelled state, his topcoat sporting creases everywhere, and he was still in the middle of looping his gold belt around his waist.

“Sorry, ma’am, I was held back by my lieutenant,” his words came out in an apologetic rush as he glanced up at the clock behind the lady in the office. “Oh, goodie, looks like I made it in time. Whew, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d missed lunch, I have so much physical training later today.”

The lady’s face twisted as she looked at him. “Well, you really need to get yourself together, cadet! How are you ever going to be promoted next year if you keep like this?” she rebuked. But even as she said that, she reached to the control panel and flicked a switch. With a beep, the double doors swung open.

She clearly looked unhappy, her glare following Ennanis the whole way as she passed through the doors after the boy. Ennanis kept her eyes fixed firmly forward.

The dining hall was bustling. It was far from the peak-hour crowds, but there were still plenty of angels gathered around tables, munching on their lunch while chatting amongst themselves. The chattering, however, died away when Ennanis walked past the tables toward the food line. An angel who was carrying an empty tray steered clear of her path, taking a longer detour toward the tray return station.

Ennanis got her tray of food and scanned the hall for a friendly face. To her relief, she found one.

Sabira Beneste had once been her fellow divisioner, back when Ennanis had worked in daylight. They’d been good friends, spending their days as part of the same squadron, completing missions and hanging out over dessert. She had tangerine hair tied in half-down, half-up in twintails. Slitted blue eyes brightened as they caught sight of the approaching angel.

“Nana!” Sabira greeted brightly. “Good afternoon! Wow, I haven’t seen you at lunch for ages.”

Because of the Graveyard Division, Ennanis was functionally nocturnal. Everyone’s supper was her breakfast, everyone’s breakfast was her dinner, and she usually slept through lunch. One of the worst parts of the past few days of her recovery had been having to adjust to a completely flipped schedule so she could visit the doctors.

“Well, I’ve got an appointment later,” Ennanis set down her tray and sat opposite from Sabira. “Nearly wasn’t let into the mess hall, though.”

Sabira twisted her spoon in her lunch. Today served a meat-and-sweet potato stew, with the usual sides of salad and fruit. “You were nearly late. Still, you’ve got some time till closing, no reason they should’ve locked you out.”

She paused mid-speech to squint at Ennanis. Ennanis’ tray held a measly portion of each food: a puddle of stew, a wad of the salad, two slices of apple. The only thing on her tray that looked a decent size was the steaming cup of instant nectar Ennanis had gotten herself from the drink dispensers.

Sabira’s gaze travelled between Ennanis’ tray and the heaping mountains of food still left in the serving line, expression growing more and more incredulous.

Noticing the look on her face, Ennanis said, “The serving guy at supper’s usually nicer. He lets me have three slices of apple.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Sabira said. “All that extra food’s gonna go to waste anyway if they refuse to give it to you.”

Ennanis shrugged as she began to pick at her stew. “That’s the way it is in Graveyard.”

“How about,” Sabira lowered her voice, whispering, “I heard there’s this special paint that’s been going around in the barracks. It flakes easily, so some greybelt soldiers use it to colour their belts gold so others won't know. Then they strip it in time for drill.”

Graveyard soldiers were marked with grey belts, as opposed to the standard shiny gold. However…

The commander looked at her.

“...Ah, right,” Sabira sighed. “They'd probably recognise you, belt or no.”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the clattering of cutlery.

“Aaaanyway…” the tangerine-haired angel coughed, eager to move past the subject. “That battle you had last week! The whole mountain’s been talking non-stop about it. My cadets wouldn’t stop badgering me for details until I threatened them with wing-ups!”

Ennanis raised an eyebrow. The kingdom of Mount Casca didn’t usually care about what happened at night. Sabira, reading the other’s disbelief, responded to the unasked question: “Of course they would, this battle was special. You killed the Cockatrice!”

Ennanis stiffened. Then, slowly, she said, “I didn’t kill her.”

“Aghhh, you killed her, she died, same thing,” Sabira waved her hand dismissively. “That must’ve been a really intense battle, if what I’ve been hearing from my greybelts is anything to go off of. They told me there were up to thrice the normal number of Beasts that night—yet, you came out on top! That’s an achievement.”

“I don’t know,” Ennanis admitted. “It doesn’t feel right. What if she’s not really dead?”

“Come on. You’ve been fighting the Cockatrice for–what, almost a decade? I’ve seen you cross wings with that chicken since you were a teenager. Of course you’d still have a phantom itch,” Sabira assured her. “Don’t worry, she’s dead as dead can be. Congratulations!”

It was true. Ennanis had seen for herself, the arrow lodged in the Cockatrice’s throat. A killing blow. Animal, human or something in between, the Cockatrice had been mortal, in the end. She could not regrow a splintered trachea, nor expunge the poison surely laced in that arrow. The Cockatrice was dead.

So why was Ennanis still so uneasy?

“By the way, how are you healing up?” Sabira’s voice, which sounded distant by now, drifted by her ears. “I was so worried when I heard you got arrowed down.”

Ennanis swallowed a mouthful of sweet potato. “Nothing a whole bunch of stitches couldn’t fix.”

“Gotta be loads and loads of stitches.”

“Yeah.” A dry chuckle. “I felt like a living pincushion on that surgical table. Still do, a little.”

Angels could sustain mortal injuries and be weakened as a result of them, but they always recovered, even if they had limbs severed, vital organs punctured or heads decapitated—it would all regenerate, sooner or later.

Blue eyes narrowed. “Better a living pincushion than a dead one. What were you thinking, taking off your brace? Why, I heard- there were some who said- you would’ve died back there… if…”

It was here that Sabira’s voice trailed off. They both knew what was left unsaid, and it was the same thing that had been haunting Ennanis’ consciousness since that night.

You would’ve died back there if the Cockatrice hadn’t saved you.

Angels were immortal. But every immortal had a fatal weakness. For an angel it was the wrist—so they always wore heavy armbraces of luminarial gold to protect them, at the necessary cost of restricting their full power. Last night, Ennanis had chosen to take one off, thinking she could handle the price. Ennanis remembered falling backwards, her mind a blaze of panic and overwhelming power streaming from her exposed right wrist. Remembered the Cockatrice lunging for her. For a moment she had thought the Princess of Beasts could not bear to see her greatest enemy get killed by another, and had wanted to do the honours with her own claws.

But then, instead, what came to her ears was a sickening crack. And then the Cockatrice was dead.

It had to be a trap of some kind. After all, Ennanis had spent the past eight years trying to bring the Cockatrice to justice, while the Cockatrice had in turn tried to kill her at every given chance. It was inconceivable that the Cockatrice would spare any angel’s life, much less save one. Yet, as much as Ennanis tried to turn the situation this way and that in her mind, she could see no advantage to the Cockatrice’s choice on that night.

Did it benefit her Queen? But what would the Queen have gained by losing one of her most powerful Beasts?

What advantage could the Cockatrice have gained if she was dead?

A sudden, shooting pain echoed through her skull. Grunting, Ennanis pressed a hand to her clammy forehead. Sabira rushed to steady her as Ennanis’ body decided to remind her of what she’d put it through.

Sabira clucked at her disapprovingly. “Look at what you’ve done to yourself! I wouldn’t be surprised if the doctors found your insides smouldering when they cut you open to take out the arrows. It might’ve killed you even before that last arrow.”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Ennanis countered. “Let the Cockatrice take out half the division?”

“Well, yes. The sun had been due to rise soon, and the Beasts wouldn’t have reached us before then. As for the lost soldiers, Chief Marshal would just appoint new ones,” Sabira chewed on a sprig of lettuce. She sighed. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s useless to try and protect greybelts. Angels who are sent to the Graveyard are meant to… you know. It’s named that way for a reason.”

Ennanis narrowed her eyes. “I stepped up as Commander because I didn’t want things to be that way.”

“You’ve done well and good trying to prevent it, Nana, but at the end of the day, angels still die, the thousand-year war’s still around, and Mount Casca still hates anyone in the Graveyard Division,” Sabira said, gesturing at her with the fork. “I don’t know how or why, but you got off lucky this time. Maybe it’s time you finally learnt your lesson.” Then her gaze softened. “Ennanis… I just don’t want to lose you too.”

Ennanis did not reply.

Meanwhile, Sabira stood up from the bench. “I guess… um… I’ll see you around. At some point. Good luck with your appointment! If you cooperate with the doctors, you’ll be fine in no time, trust me.”

With those words, Sabira Beneste left. Ennanis gazed after her, before she reached for the bowl on Sabira’s half-finished tray. She began scraping the extra stew into hers. After, she put a spoonful of it in her mouth, only to find that it had gone cold.

~~~