Timely Guardian

Timely Guardian Book 1 of the Fallen Moral Guardians By Vi Lily This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental, except in the mention of public figures such as celebrities, bands, authors, et al. © 2018-2023 Vi Lily, Library of Congress Registry Pending. eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away, as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Table of Contents PROLOGUE CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 CHAPTER 13 CHAPTER 14 CHAPTER 15 PROLOGUE S INCE THE moment the angelic host were created, they knew if anyone ever went against the Creator, the punishment would be severe. That was a given, but the entire host knew it would be a just and righteous punishment. The Creator was unrelenting in meting out judgement, when necessary, but he was merciful. The punishment always fit the crime. Avisha came to have first-hand knowledge of that punishment after he received orders to destroy the village he’d been assigned to oversee. It was an inconceivable directive. He’d carefully watched over the people in that thriving village for nearly a century, observing their comings and goings, covertly rescuing and helping when necessary, cheering their accomplishments and mourning their losses. They’d become a part of him, and he liked to imagine that he, too, had become a part of them, in some way, even though he was as invisible to them as the wind. He was expected CHAPTER 1 T HREE YEARS, two months and twelve days—the time I’ve been running. Not that I’m counting. But it’s easy to keep track of my “flight time,” as I like to think of it. It started the day my baby sister was born, the day I had basically grabbed the infant from between my mother’s thighs and ran. As fast and as far as I could. I never looked back. I couldn’t. So, I have no idea if our parents are still alive. Fingers crossed, they’re not. I’m not some kind of psycho who wants her parents dead—well, I do, but it’s not what it seems like. Mom and Dad should have killed themselves right after I left with the baby; that was the backup plan anyway. The original plan was for us all to leave together, but if Mom’s labor was too hard on her and she was too weak, then Plan B was for