Ecanus narrowed his eyes at her. She knew him—better than most in Heaven of the Host. He thrived on competition. On knowledge. It wasn’t pride that drove him. It was simply his job.
“What is the prize?”
“Prize?” she laughed. “Always knowing the ending before the story is complete? Ecanus…if you can achieve the purity of story in this, I will willingly allow you to place my collar upon my neck once again. But if you cannot,” she didn’t smile. “You will allow me to remove yours.”
He would prefer she come willingly. It was Gabriel’s way. What she asked of him was child’s play. Heaven was filled with his books. Written in an instant. “I take your challenge.” He turned to go.
She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid part of the compact, Ecanus, is that you must read these books first. How can you write about something you have no prior knowledge of?”
He sighed and took the books. “Time?”
“How ever long it takes.”
“Have your collar ready, and be prepared to be judged, Micah.” He said this without emotion in his voice. As long as he wore the collar, he felt nothing.
“I await your book, Ecanus.”