10 - The Trainee and the Trainer

PORT

Three days since I started the training with Doom. He was a pain in the ass; nosy—annoyingly nosy—to the point that even the most superficial, most basic stuff will be asked. He asked me how to open the door and sort the letters—given that I had already answered him numerous times. He wondered why I have portal-making skills; if I could stop the time, had I been in love.

And the most annoying and recurring question was if I could date him.

I couldn't believe I had to share my roof with him for the whole month—I was lucky I was still alive; I surpassed the three days with this annoying Reaper.

"So, it's been three days; when will I learn to make portals? Or teleport?" said Doom excitedly as he hovered inside my room with his cloud chair.

"No, you can't learn blessings; it is called blessings for a reason," I answered sternly.

"Then what's the point of this training if I can't learn how to teleport?"

"You will not learn teleportation and portal making, but you have to learn the ways and works of a herald. I already told you about this," I said, rolling my eyes.

"But I still don't understand the whole point,"

"So, you want to be an Archer?" I asked. I heard that word from Archangel Memo; I wasn't interested in being an Archangel, and I am curious how they become one? I wonder what Archers do to become a fully-fledged Archangel.

"What is an Archer?" he asked while levitating in a circular motion; his legs were stretched straightly in the midair.

"You joined the training without knowing what an Archer is?"

 "No, I volunteered." he said straightly, "And I don't know what an Archer is."

I looked at him. "What?"

"Yes, my neighbor, Stern said he's chosen to be in this training, but he doesn't want to be in the Herald because the work is a tedious one. Plus, I learned that you are the trainer, so I enlisted!" he said proudly.

I heaved a sigh.

"Luckily, Stern gave up his slot and passed it to me. Archangel Morn allowed because he believes I am qualified as well. In short, I joined because of you!" he said then, he winked at me.

"What is wrong with you, Reaper,"

"I have a name, Herald,"

"I can call you whatever I want because you're my trainee, and I am your trainer!" I said at the top of my lungs.

He suddenly jumped off from his cloud chair, looked at me sternly, and walked toward me. I didn't move; the last time I moved back only did more harm than good.

Doom stopped, he leaned forward, and in an almost whisper way, he said in a raspy voice, "So, how will you punish me?" 

I slowly looked at him, and our faces were inches apart. I couldn't argue; I was frozen in his gaze.

I gulped and gathered all energy I could muster. "I am not an easy one," I said, forcing a smirk.

"That's what I like," he pinched my nose; before I could react, he had vanished. I looked for him, and he was already in front of the door. He opened it, looked at me with a teasing smile then went outside.

"Hey! Reaper!!!" I roared.

I gathered the letters and headed outside, and he was already a few blocks away from my unit. "What is wrong with you, Reaper?"

"I told you, I have a name,"

"I don't care; why are you bothering me?" I asked—almost shouted.

"Am I?" Doom tightened his jaw, shoulders down almost slouched; eyes were blank and disenchanted. Doom moved away, not even looking back.

I felt awful about the sudden drop of Doom's energy. I mean, what was wrong if I called him in his class? Isn't it true that he's a Reaper? What's so offensive about this?

"Doom!" I called him. In a second, he was in front of me. Smiling idiotically.

"Yes, Port?" his eyes glowed, smiling like a 

I rolled my eyes; I couldn't believe his sudden change of emotion. "Follow me,"

He tailed me and walked enthusiastically. We were quietly strolling around the neighborhood while I was plotting my itinerary inside my head.

"You know what, you look great in your yellow-green suit," Doom complimented, starting a conversation.

"I actually hated ours. I like Reaper's cut better." I said honestly. Aside from having long sleeves, our suit is calf-length which I find uncomfortable. Whenever I visit Fiery Realm, it always gets hooked from rock formations and debris. Also, I once tripped on the Pixie Realm when a bunch of elves was running after me.

"What? I hated the idea of having these single sleeves. It makes my underarm uncomfortable. Plus, the souls I reaped make fun of my suit." Doom reacted.

"Well, not going to lie, the sleeve part is my favorite. Also, the color palette is simple and uncomplicated,"

I once remembered I painted myself wearing all of the suits in each class. The bolt blue Keeper suit with elbow-length sleeves and hip-length cut, which I used to wear when I was a Keeper 9 years ago. The red-purple gradient Weaver suit with cropped layers, geometric cuts, and patterns made my complexion dark. The Herald's yellow-green long ankle-length fit with random ribbons on its sleeve—which I was accustomed to for the whole nine years—didn't make any impact on me. And wearing black and white leathery, single-sleeved, armor-like suits makes me look young and edgy.

"We can exchange suits if you want to," Doom suggested.

"You know we are not allowed to do that. I believe you know that rule too." I discarded Doom's suggestion. I remembered one fellow when I was still a Keeper, how wearing a Weaver suit made him electrocuted. These suits are not just uniforms or systems for identification; it was the class' identity. You could wear another suit but the other class' suit.

"Fine, now how do we start your heralding?" Doom asked excitedly.

"Wait, have you tried to enter a portal?"

"I haven't. That's what I always wanted to try. You know, when I started to look after you, I once stopped at a time where you had opened a portal, and it looked so cool. Plus, when you jumped on that portal in my room, it was so mesmerizing. I wanted to know what it feels to enter in a portal." He said enthusiastically.

For the past three days, all of the letters assigned to me were addressed inside the realm; I brought him with me by foot. Also, I have to train him in the ways and works of Heralds, so he has to observe the daily lives of other heralds. Today, I have letters addressed to other realms, so I have to use a portal.

"Be careful what you wished for," the first time I used a portal was traumatizing. No, traumatizing was an understatement.

"So, how do you form a portal?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Alright! So, this is how we travel—" In a trice, I opened a portal beneath our feet. We suddenly fell off of it. Doom grabbed my arms and shrieked thunderously. We landed safely on the Pixie Realm—or it was safe to say I landed safely.

"What was that, Herald!?" Doom complained, coughed as if going to vomit; he was crawling on the ground, panting like running for his life.

 "Well, on my first time, I puked my intestines."

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?" Doom said in between his coughing.

"You didn't die. Stop being dramatic. Besides, no one forced you to do it. I can leave you here if you keep on complaining," I said sternly. Well, Doom's using his blessings out of nowhere too. So, this was for all the pranking he'd done to me.

Doom stood straight and heaved a huge sigh. He scanned the place and realized we were in the Pixie Realm.

"Oh no, not the Pixie Realm." his face turned sour.

"Why?"

"This is my least favorite realm. Entities in this realm are far from dying and reaping; they are also horrible towards Reapers. Whenever an entity in this realm dies, we can only inform them which path they will take. The fact that even in their soul-selves, pixie-like entities are impolite. In my years of being a Reaper, I have never once met an entity in the Pixie Realm who didn't curse me,"

"Well, deal with it," I said coldly.

We passed the meadows with infinite flowers; Doom couldn't contain himself but fell in love with the place. He said he's never been this far in Pixie Realm; he could only be outside the Greater Gate or a few blocks inside whenever they fetch souls. This meadow was located at the heart of Pixie Realm, and he only knows its existence from the nooks of their library.

Doom suddenly ran with his arms spread wide like a gliding gecko. He was shouting and laughing, eyes about to burst from so much happiness. I saw him slowly turning into a young terrene; I thought of this for a long time: did we become one?

For terrenes, when two entities fell in love or mate, they produced offspring. That offspring grow up, and every year, they aged—from a small, helpless terrene until they learned how to walk, to speak, to think. Then they mature, and they are ready to mate and produce another offspring. But for angels, I was unfamiliar with our genesis—and no one is asking about our inception either. 

The unclouded memory I had from being a Keeper, my previous class, was when I got out from a well and was announced as the newly birthed Keeper. I was called Caul then. I was the same today as when I existed—physically. And seeing Doom acting like a young terrene made me wonder: did angels once become a baby?

How did we become like our present selves?

I have been to almost every realm in this universe, but I haven't seen any young—children in the terrene world—angels in Heavenly Realm. I couldn't remember how I was raised. I couldn't just ask anyone about my existence before being a Keeper—no one should recall their past selves after rebirthing.

"Come on, Port! Join with me!" I shook my head and moved swiftly, watching Doom enjoying his moment inside the Pixie Realm.