8

~Ali~

The next day Jaz and I sleep late into the morning, a compensation of sorts for the late night of movie watching that occurred the night before. The last I remember, Ethan and Jack had fallen asleep in our dorm, one on the couch and the other on the bed of blankets and pillows Jaz and I had not yet cleared up. But when the morning sun gently awakens my senses, I realise with a pang that the boys have already slipped out of the open window - recently though, if the depression in the couch is anything to go by.

I skip the bunk-bed ladder and jump straight to the floor with a thump, waking Jaz with the sound. After a stretch and sigh, Jaz shuffles to the kitchen and switches on the kettle, watching it hiss through hooded eyes. I follow her in and pour a glass of juice, pulling down the tin of tea bags for Jaz to rifle through.

Downing the cloudy apple juice and munching on a handful of slightly softened crackers, I play some music through the portable speaker on the coffee table and see to getting dressed. Still with the remnants of sleep fogging my mind, I do not put much thought into my choices. I brush my hair, fiddling it into place and smooth lip balm over my sleep-dry lips to try and bring some life into my face.

After I get dressed, I power up my laptop and check an unopened birthday email from my parents. I tap out a reply as Jaz takes a quick shower in the bathroom, my fingers gliding easily over the keyboard.

Dear Mum and Dad,

Thanks! My birthday was great and please don't feel bad for not visiting! It's a long drive. I had my friends here with me anyway (they even threw me a surprise get-together!)

My first few days have been interesting. A good interesting, though. I've learnt a lot while I've been here and I am getting used to the lecture styles, too.

I love you,

Ali

And... send.

"Oh I forgot to mention!" Jaz says, considerably more awake as she emerges from a steam-filled room wrapped in a thin towel. "I promised Jack we would meet them down by the orchard this morning as long as you are alright with it?"

"Of course, no problem. I have a short workshop in the afternoon but it's only about essay writing technique so I might not even go."

"Cool, I'll get dressed quickly and then we can head down," she replies as she takes out a cropped t-shirt from the shelves and a dark pair of shredded jeans.

Stroking some mascara over my eye lashes, I blink flirtatiously at myself in the mirror, watching my electric blue eyes spark to life as the sleep ebbs away. Eyeing myself in the mirror, I second guess my choice of jacket, for some reason now lightly conscious about my appearance. Just to humour myself, I take off my hoodie and slip into my soft-wash denim jacket and peer into the mirror, turning half circles. Not bad, Ali. Not bad, I think, tucking my black feather necklace under the safety of my neckline.

Jaz comes out of the bathroom lip-singing the tune bleeding through the mesh speaker. Her mousy-brown hair is tangled up into a messy bun, a stray lock swept sweetly behind her heavily studded ear.

We set off shortly after, cracking a muffin in half as we traipse down the stairwell. When we pass through the orchard's wooden gate, the first person - or angel, I should say - I see is Jack, leaning against a thick crabapple tree trunk, head thrown back, staring up at its minty leaves intently. A twig falls from above, bouncing off of Jack's shoulder and landing on a pillow of grass.

I track the fall of the twig all the way up to Ethan balancing at the top of the tree's tallest branch. He is balancing precariously, reaching for a large, glossy apple amongst the green stones of premature fruits surrounding it. The thin branch bows and shakes under his toes as he inches towards to the end of the tapering branch, his right arm outstretched to pluck the leafy fruit.

Not surprisingly, the measly branch cracks under his feet, his weight finally getting the best of him. In one fluid motion he lunges and snatches the apple clean off the tree before he follows the branch's decent and tumbles to the ground. He thumps to the floor hitting a thin patch of grass, his breath knocked out of him in a loud gust of air.

My gasp of worry brings attention to our presence and Jack laughs silently as I drop beside Ethan. He holds out the apple, cupping it in two gentle hands towards me.

"Here, hand picked just for you," he offers sweetly. Laughing despite myself, I take the apple from him with a dimpled grin, the crisp skin smooth against my hands.

"Thank you," I giggle, turning the perfect apple around in my hand. "But seriously, are you alright?" I ask, still laughing at his goofy face.

"It is going to take a whole lot more than falling out of a tree to kill me," he says, not even wincing as he rolls onto his side. I stand and hold out my hand to him, strengthening my stance as he leans to grab it. At the touch of my skin his cerulean eyes flare like a warm ocean current and I stare helplessly hypnotised by the shifting colours that no mortal can recreate. My skin ripples with a sensation I cannot put into words as I tug him upwards although I suspect my pulling was mostly illusionary as he stands from the floor. I pull back a little dazed.

"You can't say that. Falling out of a tree could be really dangerous if you land the wrong way," I argue, continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, for mortals, sure," Jack starts, nudging himself off of the scratchy bark. "If we get injured - which in itself is a feat - we heal very fast. Iron is our only enemy - the chemistry of our blood means that the metal is like poison to us. I could get shot multiple times and heal almost instantly as long as the bullets are not iron. Sure, being shot would be expectedly unpleasant but we would start healing before irreversible physical damage could set in."

"Oh. Um, good for you, I guess," I reply, the revelation reminding me of the easily forgettable divide that lies between us - a divide between the Heavenly and the Earthly that can never be breached. It makes me feel stupidly inadequate; my soft, vulnerable skin somehow a weakness - a liability. I shake the feeling and flex out my knuckles.

We gather around Ethan and set off at a slow pace, meandering deeper into the fruit grove with a pleasant atmosphere, sweetened by the aroma of heavy fruits. Well, carefree until I pass through a shadow and my skin puckers tightly, chills creeping down my spine leaving trails of damp skin in its wake. All at once everything falls silent - the grasses still, the trees cease their shuddering, the fruit flies hush their flight between branches. Even the sun seems spooked, slipping behind a thin mist of clouds. Ethan and Jack share a skeptical look between them, stopping on the spot, motioning for us to fall back behind them.

Up ahead, far down the tree-lined path, a shadow flickers between the gnarled trunks and leafy shrubs. We stand in tense silence, my heart beating too quickly and my breaths too shallow. The shadow flashes again, this time on the other side of the path, before delving out of view into the darkness of foliage. The air turns sour, like rotten fruit rinds.

"Show yourself!" Ethan bellows, his piercing voice intrusive in the silence. His deep, even breaths hum against my finger tips as I lightly press them into the dip between his shoulder blades.

A bush rustles, closer to us this time, the sound seeming to echo from all directions leaving us confused and searching. A twig snaps and a man unfolds himself upwards, his form stretching high and narrow, a heavy trench coat drowning his angular figure.

Our angels glower vehemently at the man as we wait for him to speak. And when he does, his voice is raspy and strained gurgling in the back of his throat like the song of a lifelong smoker. His words snap and hiss and crack as they tumble clumsily from his sharp mouth but the malice present still manages to make itself clear in each syllable.

"Look at what we have here," the hooded figure taunts, boldly creeping forwards. "Our precious Prince and his brown-nose lackey. What a pleasure," he says sarcastically, toothpick-arms bent out to the sides in a wide gesture. His proximity makes my skin itch like it has been dirtied. "Unfortunately I am not here for a reunion." His small, black eyes roll towards me. "I want the girls." Ethan hugs me to him tighter; protectively. "Hello Jaz Sparks, Ali Bliss," he croons and I cringe at my name on his lips. He seems to look between Ethan and Jack assentingly, comparing their strong physiques to his neglected form. "I see you have your guardians with you today. Pity. We could have had such fun." His ashen lips curl backwards to reveal serrated, yellow teeth. It is a smile, I realise.

"You can't do anything here." Jack spits murderously, a vein straining against his forehead despite his cold, calculated words.

"Walk away." Ethan's words are brief but threatening, his body language speaking out for his words.

"Let me rephrase that; I need those girls," the Fallen growls causing the hairs across my body to bristle. Ethan lets go of my waist and steps forward, so close to him now. He extends his body upwards, widening his shoulders and shrouding the gaunt man under his stature.

"Let me rephrase that; walk away now before you can't walk at all." I was expecting a wild tone to his voice, riddled with fury. But it comes out steely and serious and cold.

The Fallen smiles cruelly, flicking his dark gaze between the angels before he seems to come to a conclusion. He hobbles backwards a few steps, his mouth twitching as he scratches his scabbed ear.

"Alright, Angels. Just you wait until I tell the others about this. We will be back. And there will be more of us. A lot more! Those girls are priceless and nothing can stop in our way, so much so that I will be generous and give you a warning - you have nine days. Nine days and we will make you regret refusing us."

Ethan lunges at the Fallen without warning, his coiled muscles bursting with energy as he propels himself forwards. Before his hands can wrap around the chorded neck of the Fallen, he dodges Ethan's grip and collapses to the floor, disappearing in a cloud of dust and ashes.

"We have to go. We have to get far away from here," Ethan stutters in almost a whisper. "We should have left the moment we found out about Ali's gift."

"I agree," Jack nods, his gaze landing softly on Jaz despite the mess of rigidity coiling his shoulders. "I have no doubt that he is on his way to the Fallen assemblage to gather an army of a hundred? Two hundred? Three? He could -"

"He looked so human," my voice shivers, the words jumping from my mouth before I can stop my facial muscles moulding to the shape of my thoughts.

"And that is the deadliest part." Ethan's eyes are worried but it is not a worry for himself, but a deep concern for me.

"We need a way to stop this - to put an end to this madness. Jaz cannot sustain a lifestyle like this forever, running and hiding and looking over her shoulder, skeptical of each person that traverses through her life. I cannot sit here and watch her live this way, scraping for the same experiences of others her age." Jack is a bundle of conviction and apology, guilt leadening his margarite eyes.

"They can't really just come in here and terrorise us, right?" My voice seems to be carried away on the wind, the confidence I was hoping for inaudible. "Right?"

"As far as the Fallen are concerned they can and will intimidate you in any means possible. You are now to assume that every pupil or member of staff on this campus could be a threat. We cannot be too careful while we figure out a plan of action."

"Nine days," Jaz repeats more to herself than us. "I appreciate everything you angels have done and undoubtedly will do for us, but nine days isn't enough time to plan something against an army - it is a dark promise that not even the heavens can prevent. Jack, you have tried tirelessly to prevent this and I'm sorry it hasn't worked out. I am so sorry," Jaz whimpers, her fingers prodding at the corners of her eyes. He swoops in and takes her in his arms, hushing her erratic movements.

"These threats are most definitely not a cause for abandoning our valour - now, more than ever, is when we need to find our determination for survival and think with cunning and resourceful minds. I cannot promise these next few days will be easy but I can promise that if someone comes for either of you, they will have to kill us before they even lay their eyes on you." Ethan's steadfast tone leaves no room for arguments or doubts and despite the brash, tenacious tone, his words are forged from a soft heart and candid morals.

"So what do we do now?" In that moment I have never felt so useless and vulnerable.

"Jack, where could we go? Where could we take them?" Ethan grills, thinking aloud more than directing questions. "Are there any safe houses left in the proximal area?"

"Our closest safe house is in the mountains some hours north. As great as that house is it comes with a fatal flaw - if we were followed or detected, the single entry road and severe surrounding mountainside means sure entrapment at the estate." Jack trails off, shaking his head. "It won't work. Not under these circumstances. Not with what is on the line this time."

Ethan groans. "Think, damn it. Think!" His voice is sharp like splintering wood as he paces back and forth over the grassy floor, trampling the stems of pasture grass and wild flowers. Jack shifts uncomfortably, his eyes distant as he contemplates the asperity of our predicament and the apparent lack of solutions. After further thought, Jack's eyes return to the orchard as his mouth twists nervously, forming hesitant, unconvincing words.

"It is a deeply unlikely suggestion, but we could try and gain temporary passage back into The Kingdom - maybe explain to The Throne our predicament -"

"They are human." Ethan interrupts, knowing full well how ridiculous the idea is and that under no circumstances can a living mortal enter The Kingdom's realm. If an angel cannot protect their mortal, that is a consequence they must face alone. "You know just as well as I that they would never pass the Gates. And in addition to that, there is no way to go back home without being summoned, especially when we have an unfinished assignment." Ethan disarms Jack's hopeful but unlikely plan in a matter of seconds. Jack nods in understanding, realising the stupidity of his idea. But in the face of desperation, anything becomes plausible to the discombobulated mind.

"Okay. Lets take a logical breakdown of the situation as we understand it at present. There are no safe houses in our immediate or not so immediate surrounding that we can exploit. We could run again, which I fear will do little to deter their return considering the lack of success we have had previously with moving Jaz. There is now not only one but two gifted mortals, increasing the Fallen's desire to seise the pair of you." Jack's eyes land fleetingly on us, touching our shoulders like a swallow before swooping back up to the clear sky, lost again in consideration. "So what do you do when you have a problem? Well, you solve the problem, avoiding the situation entirely if at all possible. If you avoid the situation all together then there is inherently no problem." Jack is rambling now, but something about his methodical visualisation brings some organisation to our impaired minds.

"Tell me you are not contemplating what I think you are?" Ethan's tone is bewildered but I can also hear the hesitant consideration behind his words - a consideration that I know, just as well as Ethan, that is ludicrous. And possibly a little bit genius.

"It's the only reasonable solution I can think of! If there are no Fallen, then there is no army and subsequently no problem." Frustration hijacks Jack's emotions, tightening his argumentative words in an attempt to coax Ethan into agreement. Calculating silence punctuates the air and when Ethan speaks his voice is hushed and irrepressible like the flow of a smooth river. "Speaking utterly hypothetically, let's say we could do this... Where would we even start on wiping out only half of our race?"

"If we are considering this, Barmouth University has fantastic library resources. We could start researching some of the angel lore myths, old wives tales or fleeting snippets of any useful information we can think of pertaining to Fallen sanctuaries or other beings that could be of use in this situation." Jaz, while feeling massively out of her depth in this conversation, offers her hand at usefulness with her suggestion.

"Good," Jack points. "But the library is very large. We cannot wander around the galleries hoping to stumble upon something of use. We need a definitive starting point - an idea, or a place or even a person or group would do as a point of interest -"

"Wait," Ehtan interjects and Jack's words cease immediately, as if someone has hit mute on the remote control. "Say that again," he commands.

Jack's expression is questioning. "We need something to focus on?"

"No, no. The last part. Say it again." He becomes demanding, so sober and authoritative I begin to see the Prince that Ethan has tucked away so deeply within himself. It makes everyone listen when he speaks and look to where he walks with this intangible command he has over the life around him.

"Even a person or group would do?" Jack considers own repeated words, still not understanding.

"How did I not think of this earlier..." Ethan murmurs, casting his eyes to his pacing feet.

"I swear Ethan, tell me what you're thinking right now or so help me." Jack steps towards him, blocking his path as they stand chest to chest, Ethan's nose curving down above Jack's.

"The Elders!" Ethan shouts and smiles unapologetically at his outburst. "The bloody Elders, Jack!" Jack's eyes become impossibly wide and transparent in response, a hesitant smile creeping around his lips as if he doesn't fully want to accept the suggestion because accepting it means a blossom of hope that we cannot afford to be wrongly placed.

"Another long shot," Jack says, but I can already see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to piece together how this will work. The angels seem to carry out a silent conversation between themselves in a moments look.

"I know it is. But it's something. If the Elders can't help us, no one can."

"Okay, but the question at present isn't if they can help us. It's if they are even alive." Jaz and I exchange a bewildered glance.

"Who are the Elders?" Beside me, Jaz's voice sounds strong yet cautious as she steps forwards. I look to Ethan expectantly, the question repeated in my eyes.

"Elders are very special beings," Ethan explains tentatively and respectfully. "They are a human-animal hybrid; the animal varies from each Elder. You see, Elders are Keepers of Knowledge and Time specialising in all sorts of unique intellectual niches. They are the wisest, most resourceful creatures on this Earth - arguably on any earth. If anyone would have any idea where to start or what to look for in destroying the Fallen, an Elder would. But with this comes a problem."

Jack takes over explaining, shoving back a mess of hair spilling across his forehead. "There hasn't been a recorded Elder in centuries, and if there is one lucky enough to still be alive, they would not make their location known or easy to find."

"Well, while there hasn't been an Elder officially documented, there has been an alleged report of a possible Elder living in a hideout in the Andes mountain range some decades ago. While still a tenuous indication, it is the only foundation we have to go off." Ethan rubs his shoulder impatiently, kneading out his tightened muscles as he relays his nebulous but hopeful lead.

"If our library is really so large -"

"- Biggest one north of London!" Jaz interrupts.

"Then there must be some kind of archives room?" I finish, hoping that some primary sources or dubious historical documentation stored in the dark recesses of this University will reference of even whisper evidence of an Elder in the Andes.

Ethan nods stiffly, his lips thinned as he presses them tightly together. "There is no time to waste," he agrees, "let's go to the library and collect anything that may be of even trivial use."

Our apprehension is concealed on our faces in a mask of indifference but it accumulates within us and bursts from our legs, powering our steps forwards with a speed that none of us realised we had adopted.

As we approach the corner that will take us to the library, Ethan slows his pace so the four of us walk side by side. "Whatever you do don't ask for help or speak to anyone if you can help it. It is better to remain cautious of everyone rather than have a Fallen pick up on any of our plans." Ethan's eyes are stern as they fix on the horizon and I take a deep breath through my nose, nodding in response.

We pass below the arrowed signs indicating the library and I skip in front of the others and push apart the glass double doors to the newly refurbished library. Tall mahogany galleries stretch the height of the double storey building illuminated by a patchwork skylight throwing wavering yellow light across the array of spines. Leather topped tables crowd the base floor, small glass green lamps placed at each end of the desks pulsing with soft work light. Wooden ladders roll on rails across the numerous galleries allowing the highest of books to be reached and connecting the small crescent balcony to the ground floor. A blast of icy air sweeps back our hair as we cross the threshold, wondering which of the numerous aisles to take.

We split down the different rows, the shelves stretching ceiling high as the musty smell of books and the creasing of pages pulls me in deeper down the labyrinth. I take off to the furthest corner of the library, losing myself in the colourful spines and dim light. I trail my finger aimlessly over the backs of the cracked spines and I find myself wandering into the history section - a large genre of texts that dominates the greater portion of the library.

The shelves are softly illuminated by sparsely placed yellow bulbs emitting a weak ambient light forcing me to I lean in close, squinting at the various titles pressed into the rigid spines. With the combination of poor visibility and vague instructions, my lack of progress is discouraging but not surprising. Another forty-five minutes of fruitless exploration and I find that the historical section that I thought held such promise turns out to be sterile.

Ugh, I mentally groan as I move into the Politics and Economics shelves. I will never find anything of use just by wandering around looking for something yet nothing in particular. What could I do? I could ask the Librarian? But I shouldn't speak to anyone. And even if I did speak to her, she will think I am crazy! Or on the other hand, she won't even know what I'm talking about. The Librarian option isn't looking very promising or safe, but then again, neither is my longevity, so what-the-heck.

Rushing out of the dark corner of Economics, I meander my way to the front desk, ducking behind a tall shelf of books and sliding two out of their place, staking them on top of the tightly packed texts. From my small peephole I spy the librarian trying to determine if it is at all possible to identify a Fallen amongst a crowd of mortals. Her hair is a web of cropped light grey curls as she nods mindlessly behind her bifocal wire-rim glasses into the crisp white pages of her novel. Two girls sashay past the front desk, leaning in close as they whisper and giggle to each other and the librarian lifts her milky brown eyes, heavy drapes of skin folded neatly around her eyes, short eyelashes curling out, magnified by the thick glasses atop of gently upturned nose. She lifts her chin away from the book as if she is about to scold the passers for their noise, but instead she smiles and the girls smile back, quieter now as they seat themselves at a desk. Thinking there is no way how this genteel elderly lady could be an evil Fallen angel, I take my chances and step out of my hiding place.

On my approach, she pushes herself away from the counter, the wheels of her office chair soundless as she folds the corner of her page and smiles at me.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Her accent is heavy and well-educated, softened by a whispered hush.

"Hello ma'am, my name is Ali. I am looking for a book on a somewhat unconventional subject and was wondering if you could help me find something," I ask politely and cross my fingers behind the desk.

"I will do my best. What were you looking for?" Her painted lips leave a small smear of candy pink on her front tooth as she smiles widely, overly enthusiastic to be of some help in this vast room of scholars.

I peer over each of my shoulders to make sure no one is in earshot and lean slightly over the counter.  "I was wondering if you had anything about..." I pause to clear my throat and pull my gaze from the surrounding to focus on the Librarian's milky brown eyes. "Um, Elders. A book about Elders."

She sits very still, carefully contemplating my request's legitimacy. Adjusting the glasses resting at the end of her nose, the Librarian smirks, nodding silently. "Of course, follow me. I store a private collection of these... peculiar texts out back." She slowly unfolds herself out of her cushioned chair, holding her right knee as she stands. "Sorry my dear, old bones!" Once stood she deftly moves towards a thick black door off to the left hand sign with more vigour than I think she has conjured in the entire later half of her life. An 'Employee's only - keep out' sign is tacked to the lacquered wooden door.

The librarian pulls on a large metal loop fastened at her waist on a retractable string, the ring filled with a variety of keys all with different cuts and colours and metals and sizes. She lands on a large, old fashioned brass key, the only one of its type, twisting the other keys away from it and guiding it into the heavy lock.

The mechanism twists with a decisive click before the door drifts open to reveal a room swimming in darkness. The odour of mothballs and damp walls mingles with the librarian's powdery floral perfume drifting to my nose in warm, conflicting waves. She gropes in the darkness and pulls on a thin string dangling from the roof, gripping onto the yellowed plastic bauble beaded on the end. The room is illuminated by a single, flickering bulb hanging precariously in the middle of the ceiling, tinting the room a murky yellow against the exposed concrete walls.

"Come on dear, don't be shy," she ushers, motioning for me to step inside. I duck under the low doorframe and look back nervously as she closes the door behind us, latching it closed.

Books upon books are stacked randomly along shelves drilled into the walls, all dusty and dog-eared as they sit haphazardly on top of one another. On closer inspection, some texts have their covers stapled in place, the pages faded with age and riddled with tears. Below the shelves are rows of clear plastic boxes slipped beneath the wooden panels, each stacked with layers of papers and documents with a year printed in marker across the front of the box.

Dropping the hoop of keys back against the pleats of her long skirt, the old lady hobbles over to a nook off to the right where a grouping of similarly dilapidated spines bow weakly. Bending over with a groan, she runs her fingers over the twisted backs, murmuring incomprehensibly under her breath. She double taps at a cracked spine, easing it off the shelf and into her lap. As if an afterthought, she also pulls down the two books either side.

Cradling the three books in one arm, she uses the other to grip the shelf and pull herself upright, the wood creaking under her weight. Rushing over, I grip her frail arm and help heave her to a stand. She smiles gratefully and piles the books into my arms, a strange expression playing across her weathered features I cannot quite name.

Before I can construe the curious look in her eyes, the weight of these unassuming books takes away my attention as I shift them in my arms. I pull them closer into my chest, dust clouding my shirt like a puff of flour.

I look deeper into her expression, past the spectacles and surveying each wrinkle and lift of her eyes. Suddenly I place the expression creasing the soft folds of her skin - accomplishment.

"Many years ago, around when I started at this job actually, I had a very distinctive dream. It must have left a pretty significant mark for me to remember it so clearly after all this time - I can't even remember what I had for breakfast most days!" She seems to chuckle to herself, looking around at her hidden collection of books proudly. "Well, at the time I thought it was a dream. Now, with you standing here, I am beginning to think it was more of a premonition. I dreamt of a faceless person but I sensed the figure was female; a gut feeling I had although I really couldn't be sure. This person came to my library, hesitant but determined to seek out one of my books." Everything in the room settles and held in a windowless room, I could have convinced myself that the entire earth has ceased spinning for just this moment. "After that night it felt that gravity chose to hold onto me tighter than any other person, pulling me to this earth and holding me captive. I never believed in such things as fate or coincidences, but over the years I always remained curious about the reality of my dream. Today the tethers of gravity have been cut from my shoulders the moment you took my books." Her eyes close in a moment of private release. "I don't know what you are seeking to learn or planning to do, but I sense it is something of a catalyst. The rest of the story beyond this point is not mine to pry into so I will wish you luck and bid you goodbye." Without having realised the librarian has drifted back over to the door, the metallic ring of the latch being flipped open breaks my stupor. Light floods my vision and I squint against the sudden intrusion, the mottled brightness reflected in the back of my eyes.

"Thank you, Ma'am. You have been so much more helpful than you can imagine." I lift the books higher in my arms feeling their softened covers rub against my clothes, beyond grateful for her help.

"Please, my name is Ms. Penny. All that Ma'am stuff just makes me feel old," she tells me with a giggle. I smile and bow out, promising to keep the books well guarded. "They are in your care now, do with them as you wish. I hope they serve their purpose as I have served mine. Farewell." Ms. Penny pulls on the chain and the single lightbulb winks out as I step forwards into the warm sunshine.