After hearing an infant’s first cry, a pair of white wings from the bed of clouds would fall from the skies.Everyone had a guardian angel. Their kind stood bright, cherubic, and rosy-cheeked. Their strong wings stretched for miles and shielded their wards from harm, with the promise of protection said on musical tongues that any child would believe. The only exception was that their assigned guardian angel would be the only one they could see. The rumour of their non-existence had come to

a stop long ago because it surely wasn’t a coincidence that every youth had an angel’s hand to hold. A guardian angel was the sunshine of every child’s life. That is, however, except for Letha Merigold. Her angel, who introduced themselves as “Styx,” did not wear ivory robes or golden halos but dark shadows that wrapped around their figure and face with a pair of crow-like wings resting on their back. However, despite their formidable appearance, Letha’s angel was just as timid as she was. She recalled peering up the dark, willowy mass as it loomed over her cradle, their wings hunched. The look inStyx’s sooty eyes shone a marriage of fear and hesitation, framed by lashes that curled like calligraphy.They then reached down to wrap a wispy finger around her tiny one and spoke.“The spring solstice will help you bloom, little Merigold. And so will I.”Styx’s low voice meshed with the thunder that poured outside, making it tolerable and somewhat pleasant. A surge of sudden calmness waved over, accompanied by the sweet scent of narcissus, lullingLetha to sleep. Her angel let out a satisfied hum, promptly vanishing in the air.Over the years of learning wrong from right, Letha also learned that not everyone will accept her. Her classmates cried in horror as she described her guardian’s form with candour, finding no reason to lie. In her case, the truth wasn’t so kind to her. As she grew older, those cries turned to taunts, and eventually, her voice became mute, as well as her soul.She never bothered with her parents, and they never bothered with her. Though she couldn’t be sure if that’s what she wanted. She still complied, keeping her soul hush since it became apparent that her plethora of endless chatter was simply too much for them to handle. So by the time she turned ten,

her father forceda used but sturdy camera in her hands, and soon her attention drifted.Her passion for photography led her to her adoration of butterflies. Their gossamer wings showed up bright on screen while their delicate legs rested on twigs of lilac and honeysuckle. The window in her room was the perfect way to see them coming, though sometimes there was no need to beckon them. It seemed that they loved her back, fluttering around her head, forming a resplendent crown. Still, Letha decided that it was Styx’s wings that she favoured the most. Wings belonging to her invisible muse.On the morning of her eleventh birthday, Letha discovered that Styx’s form could turn to something more “tolerable” with a bit of glamour,” as they explained.The inky shadows morphed into a tall, lanky figure with human limbs, complemented by an androgynous visage with shoulder-length black hair and ruefulonyx eyes. They didn’t seem as thrilled as she was, and upon further discovering Styx’s self-shame for their supposed ugliness, Letha felt her heartbreak. So before they headed out to the kitchen where her cake sat waiting, she plucked an orange chrysanthemum from the garden and reassured Styx that she did not mind whatever form they presented as.“I don’t care,” Letha said firmly while holding the angel’s hands after making them kneel down to her level. “As long as you can brush my hair and give me hugs, I’m happy.” She gave their hands a squeeze.“Thank you, little one,” Styx replied, voice sounding slightly hoarse. The flower was tucked in their hair.“In fact, with your hair, I can practice French braiding!” she chirped, grinning when their eyes

widened.That morning, Letha realized that her guardian was just as human as she was.She knows thatStyx will stay with her as her life continues till death, so she had to be strong for them too. Even ethereal beings could use a hug.The two were seated on the grass in the backyard after blowing her candles, verdant flora surrounding them in a fragrant cocoon. She sat in front of Styx on the blanket, cupping her knees, her purple sweater draped down to her knees.Her camera lays carefully near her feet, next to the utensils and slice of honey cake, ready to be eaten once they were done. The fluttering of butterflies was not enough to fill the silence, so while Styx weaved flowers in her hair, she asked.“Are you a boy or a girl?”The weaving stops, and she feels a petal tickle her ear. “That’s a hard question,” Styx murmurs, “why do you ask?”Letha shrugged. “It’s been eleven years. I’m curious,” she explained bluntly. There was no need to dance around questions with Styx. Only this time, they said nothing, and she mistook the silence for discomfort.“I’m sorry.”Styx hushed her with a bemused look on their face. “I’m not so sure, blossom. It’s not something I think of often,” Letha turns to face them. “However, it should all depend here,” they tap where their heart

would be.Letha frowns and reaches for her camera to fiddle with, the smell of cherry blossom tickling her nose.“What if I’m unsure right now?”Once again ,her guardian angel said nothing, instead of looking down at the stray flowers in their lap. They spoke after a while, “Then for now focus on becoming like water. You’d slip through nimble fingers and hold up mighty ships. You have plenty of time to think about this stuff for later.”Letha hummed her approval. “We can hold them up together.” You’ll always hover nearby.“Of course, buttercup.” They tucked one accordingly behind her ear.Letha wrinkled her nose, laughter spilling from her lips. “Buttercups are weeds, Styx.”“No,” they chided softly, “if grown in the right place and time, they too are flowers.” They are wanted.“Buttercups are also poisonous.”Fondness glowed from the angel’s eyes. “Yes. Yes, they are.”