One month.

They had given Adrian one month to live out his life normally before he needed to infiltrate a crazy, angel-killing, church-burning cult for a society that more or less forced him into it.

Everytime he thought of it, it seemed crazier and crazier.

He had spent a full week with the angels after the meeting, a busy, busy week where he was schooled in the basics that he would need to know: a rough background of the attacks, general rules about how different types of magic worked, and some basic combat training.

He mostly was taught how to fight with a knife--somewhat worryingly, he was told to run if there was even a chance magic was involved. He frequently sparred with Blaise, who as it turned out, was exceptional with her magic but a bit lacking in close combat. She still beat him soundly every time they fought, though.

Before Adrian left, Astin had drilled him in the information he was supposed to look for. It was nothing surprising: location of their base, general layout, identity of the leader, how it was organized, number of members, where they were obtaining the enchanted weapons.

Astin didn't say a word about what he was planning to do with that information, and the other angels were similarly tight-lipped, leading Adrian to suspect that they all expected him to be caught and interrogated. The less he knew, the more disposable he was, after all. It was an uncomfortable thought, but he had already been dedicated to the mission, regardless of his misgivings.

When he was finally allowed to return home, he was covered in sticks in mud and made to sit in the rain for a while to look as if he had been lost in the forest for a week. Indeed, that was his excuse when he showed up at his home, muddy and wet and battered. As his parents embraced him, tears running down their faces as they cried over and over again how relieved they were that he was okay, a touch of guilt tugged at his heart. He remembered what Delta said: "So if you eventually get back home safe, it erases how many days or weeks of suffering they endured?"

While he had been at the angels' city, living in their elaborate palace, his parents had been searching through him in the rain and the night and the storms. They had been worrying about him every waking moment, his absence haunting their lives. He should have at least tried to get home quicker. Even if it was futile, he should have put in the effort--something, anything. Instead, he had more or less forgotten to them.

Since he was sworn to secrecy, all he could do was apologize, and apologize he did--over and over again, for being such a fool, for getting lost in the forest, for leaving even when it was dark out and the weather was so terrible.

He certainly did need the buffer month he was given, since his parents because several times more strict after he returned. Their worry was understandable, and, since Adrian still felt guilty, he obliged to their rules, but he knew it'd make things difficult once he had to fulfill his promise.

Adrian soon fell back into his daily routine: wake up, go to school, go home, go to sleep. He stayed home during the weekends. It was exactly the same as it was before the incident, yet it felt different somehow. Duller. Emptier. A quiet, nagging feeling that hung at the edge of his thoughts every hour of the day, interrupted what otherwise would have been an easy return to usual life.

It must have been the angels. After seeing all of them, so driven, so determined, it highlighted the emptiness in his own life--but even more so, the night Delta held a knife to his throat stuck in his mind. What she had said had hit so close to home, putting into words what had only occured as hazy feelings to Adrian. It was true. His life was dull. He had no direction, no drive.

Even so, the comfort of returning to his usual, predictable life was stronger than the feeling of emptiness, so Adrian pushed it aside to concentrate on enjoying his few weeks of normalcy. After a while, he managed to fall into his usual mindset, living his life as if nothing had changed.

Eventually, the memory of the angels became so distant--partly due to Adrian's effort to bury it--that it almost seemed as if it had never happened. As if it was all really just a dream: the attack, the angels, everything. Indeed, he often dreamt of it; Delta and Brook running through the sodden forest, the shadowed forms of their attackers emerging from the darkness, the glaring fire tearing through the world.

Adrian would wake up in a cold sweat as the fire consumed his vision, staring into the pitch black of his room as he waited for his heart to slow down, for his breathing to steady. He told himself over and over again that it wasn't real, that the danger had passed, that Brook was alive, but only time could calm him.

Perhaps the worst part of the recurring nightmares is that, though Adrian dreamed of it now, once, not long it ago, it wasn't a dream. It had been real. Once, when he had awoken, it hadn't been in his dark, familiar room, but in a painfully bright one, walled in gleaming white stone.

Aside from the nightmares, there were a few more unfortunate mementos of the occasion that prevented Adrian from completely discarding the incident. One was the new scar on his left forearm, rough and unfamiliar to the touch. He often found himself unconsciously running his fingers over it, either marveling at the strange sensation or reminded himself that the encounter with the angels did, indeed, happen.

Another reminder was a small string of beads given to him by Astin. There were four beads in total, and Adrian was told that each had been enchanted with a different spell. A black bead, enchanted to shield him from the effects of dark magic; a red bead, enchanted to shield him from fire magic; a gray bead, enchanted to generally shield him from magic effects, though a bit weaker than a type-specific shield (or so Astin had said); and a clear bead, enchanted to hide the magic signature of the other three beads.

Adrian had asked if the clear bead would really work, since the cult had still tracked down Brook and Delta with their magic, even though it was hidden. Astin dismissed the concern; he claimed that the magic on the beads was relatively weak and simple defensive magic, so, with the hiding spell, it'd be practically invisible, even right next to the enemy. Brook and Delta were both under complex memory-altering and power suppressing spells, making it near impossible to cloak completely, hence why they were found.

Adrian was still uneasy carrying around the beads, but was even more terrified of running into another conflict with magic unprotected, so he tucked the beads into an inner pocket of his jacket, where they wouldn't fall out.

The third reminder was a small knife and sheath, the blade smooth and gleaming, given to Adrian for protection. It was unenchanted; offensive magic would be more difficult to mask. Astin had said. Adrian, ordered to keep it on him at all times, tucked it into another inside pocket of his jacket. Admittedly, it'd be difficult to reach quickly, but it was better than looking crazy walking around with a knife at his side.

Three stubborn reminders and a haunting emptiness, stubbornly preventing him for falling completely into his regular life. So stubborn, in fact, that the stress got to him three weeks in and he started his investigation into the cult a week early. Doing something, anything, was better than the agonizing countdown to the end of the month.

The cult had certainly gained a great deal of infamy--almost everyone Adrian spoke to had heard of it, though mostly of the routine church burnings reported in the newspaper. Any other information--such as how to join--was scarce. Even if someone did know, he couldn't just say he wanted to join a crazy cult committing arson.

Adrian asked almost every person he ran into about the cult, claiming he was investigating it for a summer school project. Most leads came up empty, and Adrian soon realized he really did need the extra week as his investigation grew longer and longer.

Eventually, he found someone who knew something--they claimed they'd seen someone scouting near the industrial sector at the edge of town, near the crowded housing district where the factory workers lived. It wasn't a particularly safe area, but Adrian really had no choice. He lied to his parents and, with his beads, knife, and umbrella, he set off.

The streets were narrow and in poor condition, cracks riddling the dark stone and trash scattered all about. A foul smell of dank and decay hung in the air, only worsened by the early summer heat and humidity. Tall, bleak buildings with closely packed windows towered over the streets, walls reaching toward a cloud-choked sky. Deep puddles lay on the uneven road, bits of trash sliding over the ripples. Street lamps were scarce, and the apartments blocked out any weak sunlight that made it past the heavy clouds, making the streets dark as night despite it being early afternoon.

Heavy shadows lurked in the corners of the narrow streets and alleys, occasionally shifting as an indistinct figure flitted through. It might have been his imagination, but Adrian still kept his right hand close to the knife in his pocket. He tightened his grip on the umbrella--even if he couldn't reach the knife in time, he could probably stab someone with the tip of the umbrella.

The few people he ran into, all gaunt and sallow, either refused to talk to him at all or knew nothing about the cult. After about half an hour of searching, Adrian was tempted to give up and go home. He told himself it was because there was nothing to find there, but it was mostly out of a desire to leave. He couldn't stand being there any longer.

Tracing out his route in his mind, Adrian turned and made his way back home, weaving through the narrow streets much faster than before. The rain picked up, drumming a constant beat on Adrian's umbrella. Ears filled with the muted sound of the rain, he barely caught a snippet of conversation as he passed by another alley.

"...join the cause..."

Adrian stopped in his tracks and spun around, searching for the source of the voice. The rain was infuriatingly loud as it pounded on his umbrella, so, with a touch of reluctance, he lowered the umbrella. The rain promptly soaked his head, but he could hear more clearly. Adrian followed the muffled voice, find an alley a few feet back.

"I don't care about your stupid cult. Leave me alone!" A haggard man, scowling, marched out from the alley, paying no mind to Adrian as he stormed away.

A second man stepped out of the alley a moment later, watching the first go with an unconcerned expression. "That's fine. Some don't have the fortitude for our cause."

Shaken by the sudden discovery, it took Adrian a moment to collect his wits. Act, now! "E-excuse me!" he exclaimed, a bit too forcefully.

The man turned and regarded Adrian with a curious eye. "Yes?" Dressed in nice clothes with a clean face, the man certainly didn't look like he lived in the area.

"What...what were you talking about?" His heartbeat roared in his ears, even louder than the rain. This could be it. Did I actually find a way in?

A smile spread across the man's face. "Oh, are you interested in joining our cause?"

"What...what exactly is that cause?"

The man's smile turned into a smirk. "Has misfortune ever befallen you, young man? Have you ever been a victim of circumstances beyond your control? Have you ever suffered merely because of a bad bit of luck or a sour twist of fate?"

Assuming the question was rhetorical, Adrian stayed silent until he noticed the man staring at him expectantly. "Uh--yes, I suppose. Hasn't everybody?"

The man nodded smugly. "True, young man. It just goes to show how widespread their cruelty is." He scanned Adrian's face, searching for a reaction to his vague use of pronouns. Adrian tried his best to look curious. "So, what if I told you," said the man confidentially, dropping his voice, "that all those twists of fate weren't just by chance?"

Adrian struggled to keep up his act as blood roared in his ears. I think I found it. "What...what do you mean?"

"All the misfortunes in life," whispered the man, "are not in the hands of fate. Everyone's unfortunate struggles, pain, and sufferings stem from the hands of one cruel people."

Adrian put on a mask of disbelief and said, "That's not possible."

"But it is true, my friend!" drawled the man, waving his finger. "Think. Think of all the pain and misfortune you've endured in your life. Think about how it made you feel. Angry, perhaps. Resentful. Feelings you've had to bottle up and move past. That's how life is, after all. Unfair. But maybe you couldn't get over it, no matter how hard you've tried. Perhaps you still harbor a bit of resentment from your misfortune however long ago. Am I right?"

Adrian obligingly put on his most thoughtful expression and nodded slowly. Nothing much happened in his life, really. The death of a few relatives, perhaps. He'd never really had any lasting friends since his family moved around a lot when he was younger. After they finally moved to the city and stayed put, he'd lost interest in friends. But that was just life. As the man had said, life was unfair. It never really bothered Adrian; he'd just accepted it. Why bother harboring resentment toward something he couldn't change?

"Now is the time to take the resentment and reawaken it," said the man, eyes glowing with excitement. "As I said, your misfortune isn't just chance--it was caused by a race of evil beings, bent on making humankind suffer."

"And who are they?" asked Adrian.

"Angels," said the man with dramatic flourish. "The angels that we all so worship to protect us are, in fact, the source of all human misery."

I've found my way into the cult.

"You may not believe me, said the cultist, "but I assure you, I am dead serious. The angels are real, very real, and if you choose to join us in our cause, we have an abundance of proof. This is your chance to take that lingering resentment and use it for a great cause! You can finally be at peace and help the rest of humanity in the process."

The cultist's eyes gleamed with passion as he continued, voice taking on an almost maniacal edge. "You can get revenge--no, no, even better, justice for all the sufferings the angels have caused you. You'll be able to get very real, tangible resolution to your grudges, and stop the angels' cruel tyranny in the process. If you help us end the angels, you'll be able to be happy and free--you'll help all of humanity be happy and free! We're fighting for a bright future where the angels are no more, and human suffering is nonexistent. You might think such a future is impossible--but it's not! And you can help bring us to that future. What do you think?"
Adrian took a long, deep breath to steady his nerves. "I'm interested."

The cultist's face cracked open into a wild smile. "Excellent." He reached into a bag slung over his shoulder and pulled out a pamphlet, handing it to Adrian.

Inside the pamphlet was a pitch quite similar to the cultist's speech. Most prominent, however, was a date and time printed in bold, large letters. It was a date, three days from then, and underneath it was a time: 10:30.

"Every few weeks we have a meeting to initiate new recruits," explained the cultist. "You'll go to a specific location at that date and time, along with some fellow new recruits, and you'll all be tested to make sure you're serious about joining."

"What sort of test?" asked Adrian slowly.

"Nothing to be concerned of, if you're dedicated to our cause," dismissed the cultist. "To reach the location, you take the road heading south out of town for five miles. Once you reach Marble Ridge, head east for half a mile. There should be a small footpath that will lead to the clearing where we're meeting. Be sure to be there at the printed date and time--the location changes every meeting, so if you miss it, you won't know the new location unless you run into another scouting location."

"...got it," said Adrian, pulling a pencil from his pocket and jotting down the instructions in the pamphlet. "Thank you."

"Thank you," replied the cultist with a smooth grin. "I hope you decide to join our cause."

Adrian swallowed. "I'll be there."