I didn’t know what to expect when stepping into the classroom. Perhaps, for some foolish reason, I’d expected something akin to high school. But of course it wasn’t; Angels were almost universally adults. Except for me.

The classroom itself was a small building peeking out from the ground. It had glass windows, allowing some natural light to come in from the landscape outside. A nearly-complete ring of rocky outcrops surrounded the building, sheltering it from prying eyes and the winds alike. In the depression, there was a small pool of water, snaking its way around the classroom. On its banks grew various plants and shrubs, from little herbs and vines to tall, spreading trees.

The interior of the classroom wasn’t too unusual. On the back wall were the stairs leading back down into the outer sector of Sanctuary 1. Rows of desks were arranged all the way down to the front, where a teacher’s desk sat in front of several whiteboards. Along the walls were cabinets and shelves, piled up not unlike those in Nep’s room back at Sanctuary 73: terrariums full of plants and insects, alongside various jars of preserved... things, and stacks of old books.

I was the last to arrive. Most of the desks were filled, with various women of all shapes and sizes, many already deep in conversation with their neighbours. All were wearing their uniforms, of various shades and colours, though all were relatively plain, decoration-wise, just like mine. I was not the only one in white here: three of the girls near the front were wearing similar white uniforms, each in impeccable shape. Mine was still tattered from a the few rounds of transformation it had undergone yesterday. Others were in warm tan, or olive-green, some in navy blue or black. But only a single one among them was in red.

The girl was sitting at the back corner of the room, her desk nearly pushed right up against the wall. I say girl because she seemed really young. Even as young as I was, perhaps. Or even younger? But that made no sense. Her uniform was a deep red, but it was in very poor shape, creased and fraying a bit at the edges. She seemed to be ignoring everyone else as much as they were ignoring her, instead mumbling to her symbiote.

And what a symbiote it was! A big, beautiful swallowtail butterfly sat perched on top of her head, like a giant hairpin or ribbon, wings slowly opening and closing and opening again. I wanted to reach out and touch the butterfly, but that was probably rude. Definitely rude. Instead, I just have a friendly greeting. “Hello,” I said. “My name is Quinn. What’s yours?”

She nearly jumped in her seat before turning gingerly to face me. She had warm olive-brown skin and freckles, with straight black hair cut into a short bob and held in place with a plain red headband that matched her maroon uniform. She stared at me for a few awkward moments, not really saying anything. I couldn’t tell if I’d scared her or offended her, or something in between.

Finally, she seemed to catch herself. “My name isn’t important,” she mumbled. “You should go off and meet the others.”

What? What sort of answer was that? “Are you not one of the students in this class?” I asked.

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She shook her head. “That’s not it, it’s just... it’s just...”

“Then why shouldn’t I want to say hello? What’s your name?”

“Because... because I... fine. If you insist. It’s Carmen,” she said.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” I asked. “I like your uniform. And your symbiote.”

“T-thanks,” she said. “Yours are pretty, too, I... I guess.”

I pulled over another desk and sat down in it. “So.. um... how did you get here?” I asked. “How did you become an Angel? Aren’t you... aren’t you a little... um...”

“Young? Yes,” she said. “I’m fifteen years old.”

Wait, Fifteen? That was really... “Vespa,” I whispered. “Is that really okay? Fifteen years old? Isn’t that way too young?”

“You’re barely older,” Vespa said.

“Right, but...”

“It was under condition,” said another voice. The swallowtail butterfly gently lifted off from the top of Carmen’s head, hovering in the air between us. “She was in dire straits and would have not survived if she remained merely human. However, Viviana offered her a choice to join and become an Angel in exchange for food and shelter.”

“I am happy,” she said. “And very thankful to Viviana because of that. But now that I’m getting older, it’s time to learn to be an Angel and fulfill my end of the bargain. That’s why I’m here.”

Viviana had done that? That was surprising. Perhaps there were more layers to her than she’d let on. “Wow,” I said. “I had no idea it was... it was like that.” She must have had things very hard before becoming an Angel. Not like me. And here I was, mildly annoyed at all this... this stuff that I had to do, while she was... “I think I can learn from you.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

The classroom door swung open, and Miriam stepped in. She’d elected against the fancy robes she’d worn yesterday, and instead wore a similar uniform to the rest of us; hers was olive-green, though like Rachel’s it bore a great deal more embellishment: embroidered patterns in red and gold traced out the silhouettes of locusts flying down the jacket sides and sleeves. As Miriam walked down the centre of the class, the conversations died down one by one, until the whole class was silent, and all eyes were on her, at the front.

“Good morning!” she said, in her usual cheery demeanour. “If you’re here today, that means that you have recently become an Angel, and have been assigned to basic education or re-education by the council of Archangels. I am Miriam. Division AT0713, host to Locusta, and Archangel of Flight Ensifer. I will be your main teacher for the purposes of this course. I hope you enjoy your time here.”