Page 12 of Angel of Ruin

SARIEL

Istand atop the towering platform, wings stretched wide as I survey the aerial course before me. The other overseers gather around, their excited chatter grating on my nerves.

"I bet half of 'em don't make it past the first obstacle," Raxis laughs, his dark wings rustling with anticipation.

"You're being generous," Zephyr snorts. "I say a third, tops."

I tune out their inane banter, my jaw clenching in irritation. These fools treat the trials like some kind of spectator sport. Idiots. I force myself to focus on the intricate web of challenges sprawled out before us, my golden eyes narrowing as I take in every detail.

Suspended platforms hang at varying heights, a dizzying array of wood and metal interconnected by narrow beams and swinging ropes that sway ominously in the wind. Spelled winds create unpredictable currents that could send an unprepared flyer spiraling out of control — and impossible for a wingless participant to recover from.

And then there are the enchanted obstacles - flickering in and out of existence, some intangible wisps of magic while others form solid barriers that could shatter bones on impact.It's beautiful in its deadliness, a true test of skill and strength. My wings twitch with anticipation, even as my face remains an impassive mask.

With a powerful thrust of my wings, I launch into the air, relishing the familiar rush of wind against my face. The course is child's play for a xaphan of my caliber, a mere warm-up compared to the rigors of battle.

I weave effortlessly through spinning blades, their razor-sharp edges whistling harmlessly past my feathers. Illusory projectiles materialize out of thin air, but I dodge them with practiced precision, my body moving on pure instinct.

I glide past swinging pendulums with graceful ease, their massive forms cutting through the air just inches from my wings. It's almost disappointing how simple this all is. These trials, designed to break humans, are nothing more than a fleeting amusement for one such as myself.

Landing back on the platform, I can't help but smirk at the thought of humans attempting this feat. Their clumsy, wingless bodies will be no match for the course's demands. Most will likely plummet to their deaths within moments.

"What do you think, Sariel?" Raxis asks, nudging my shoulder. "How many humans will make it through?"

I open my mouth to respond, but an unbidden image of Lyra flashes through my mind. Those wide eyes staring up at me, her scent…

I shake my head, banishing the thought. "Who cares?" I growl. "They're all doomed anyway. This is just a formality."

The other overseers nod in agreement, but I find myself unable to join in their cruel laughter. My eyes drift back to the course, imagining Lyra's small frame attempting to navigate its perils. For a moment, I feel a twinge of... something. Concern? Impossible.

I can't shake the memory of last night. Lyra's defiant blue eyes, the way her chest rose and fell rapidly as I closed in. Her scent, a mix of fear and... something else. Something intoxicating. It clings to me, refusing to let go, like a persistent whisper in the back of my mind.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand through my hair. What the hell is wrong with me? She's just another pathetic human, destined to fail like all the rest. I shouldn't give a damn about her fate. But here I am, replaying every second of our encounter like some lovesick fool.

But the way her body responded to my proximity... It stirred something primal within me. A hunger I've never felt before, certainly not for a human.

It's a craving that gnaws at my insides, demanding satisfaction. I clench my fists, trying to regain control over my traitorous thoughts.

I replay the moment in my mind. Her back against the wall, my arms caging her in. The slight parting of her lips as I leaned closer, taunting her. The quickening of her pulse, visible in the delicate hollow of her throat.

I remember how badly I wanted to trace that pulse with my tongue, to taste the fear and desire mingling on her skin. The memory sends a jolt of heat through my body, and I growl in frustration. This human girl is becoming a dangerous distraction, one I can't afford.

I clench my fists, rage boiling through my veins at my own pathetic weakness. These humans are worth less than the dirt beneath my boots. They're nothing but disposable entertainment, toys to be used and discarded at my whim.

I won't let one insignificant, infuriating girl cloud my judgment or compromise my duty to my people. I'm a warrior, a leader among the xaphan. I've spent centuries honing my skills,becoming the perfect weapon. No fragile human with her wide blue eyes and soft curves will undo all of that.

I growl low in my throat, my wings rustling with agitation. I need to focus, to remember my purpose here. These wing trials are just a means to an end. I won't let myself be distracted by fleeting desires or misplaced compassion.

As the first group of candidates file onto the platform, I steel myself. It's time to watch them fail, as they always do. As they always will.

I stand at the edge of the platform, watching as Lyra's cohort stumbles onto the course. Pathetic. They are already doomed, I can see.

"Begin," I command, my voice carrying across the arena.

They scatter, each choosing a different path. Some immediately fall, their screams echoing as they plummet. Others cling desperately to the first obstacles, frozen in fear.

But Lyra... she moves with surprising grace. Her small frame darts between swinging blades, her movements fluid and purposeful. It's... unexpected.

I grit my teeth, irritation flooding through me. This isn't how it's supposed to go. With a flick of my wrist, I summon a gust of wind, nearly knocking her off balance. She stumbles but regains her footing, pressing onward.