Page 14 of Angel of Ruin

I've already been separated from the boy I saved and my friends were ripped away from me from the beginning. I am alone. Utterly alone. And for some reason that makes determination spear through me as I gain purchase and haul my back back over the edge.

Rolling onto the platform, I allow myself a moment to catch my breath. The course stretches endlessly above me, a maze ofropes, swinging obstacles, and more narrow beams. My throat tightens as I realize how much further I have to go.

A mechanical whirring catches my attention. To my horror, the platform I'm on starts to tilt, threatening to slide me off. I scramble to my feet, searching for the next handhold. A rope dangles just out of reach, swaying in the wind.

"Come on, come on," I mutter, bouncing on my toes. As the platform tilts further, I make a desperate lunge for the rope. My hands close around it, the rough fibers biting into my palms. I swing wildly, my body twisting in the air.

Ahead, I see a series of hoops suspended at different heights. My arms burn as I build momentum, swinging back and forth. With a silent prayer, I let go, flying through the first hoop. My stomach drops as I plummet, but I manage to grab the second hoop, my shoulders jarring with the impact.

Sweat trickles down my back as I navigate the hoops, each transfer leaving me breathless and shaking. By the time I reach the next platform, my muscles are quivering with exhaustion.

I want to collapse, to give up, but I force myself to keep moving. The thought of failing, of the death that awaits me if I stop, drives me forward. I think of my parents' disappointed faces, of Sariel's smug superiority, and grit my teeth.

"I won't let them win," I growl, pushing myself to my feet.

I push forward, my body screaming in protest with every movement. My arms feel like lead, muscles burning from the strain of hauling myself up countless ropes and bars. Sweat stings my eyes, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision.

The obstacle course looms before me, a twisted metal nightmare against the sky. I grab a swinging bar, my palms slick with perspiration. As I launch myself to the next handhold, a flash of movement catches my eye across the platform on another pathway.

Another candidate, a young man with dark hair, reaches for a rope. His fingers brush the frayed edges, but he can't get a grip. Time seems to slow as I watch him fall, his mouth open in a silent scream. The sickening thud as he hits the ground below echoes through the arena, turning my stomach.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my ears. The world spins around me, and for a moment, I think I might be sick. But I can't stop. I can't let myself think about what just happened.

"Keep moving," I whisper, forcing my trembling limbs into action.

I swing myself onto a narrow beam, arms outstretched for balance. The metal is slick with condensation, and my feet slide with each step. I focus on my breathing, trying to calm my racing pulse.

Ahead, a series of spinning platforms presents the next challenge. I time my jumps carefully, landing on each disc as it rotates. The motion makes my head swim, but I push through the dizziness.

My legs shake as I reach the end of the platforms. I'm higher now, the ground a distant blur below. The wind whips around me, threatening to throw me off balance.

A rope bridge stretches before me, swaying ominously. I take a deep breath and step onto the first plank. It creaks under my weight, and I grab the side ropes tightly.

Halfway across, a gust of wind catches me off guard. The bridge lurches, and I stumble, nearly pitching over the side. My heart leaps into my throat as I cling to the ropes, willing myself not to look down.

"I won't fail," I grit out, pulling myself upright. "I can't."

With shaking legs, I force myself to keep moving. One step at a time, I tell myself. Just keep going.

Until the ground beneath my feet begins to tip.

My fingers claw at the edge of the platform as it tilts sharply, the metal groaning beneath me. I kick my legs, desperately trying to find purchase, but there's nothing but empty air. My arms scream with the effort of holding my entire body weight, muscles trembling as sweat trickles down my forehead.

"No, no, no," I gasp, heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

The world spins around me, a dizzying kaleidoscope of metal beams and swinging ropes. Far below, the ground seems to rush up to meet me, promising a swift and brutal end. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the terrifying view.

When I open them again, my gaze locks onto a figure standing on a nearby observation deck. Sariel. His silver-white hair catches the light, creating a halo effect that belies the cold indifference in his golden eyes. He watches me struggle without a flicker of emotion, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Please," I mouth, knowing he can't hear me but hoping he'll understand. "Help me."

Sariel doesn't move. He might as well be carved from stone, unmoved by my desperate plight. The realization hits me like a physical blow - he's going to let me fall.

My arms burn, muscles quivering with fatigue. I can feel my grip loosening, no matter how hard I try to hold on. Panic claws at my chest, making it hard to breathe. I can't fall. I won't.

With a surge of determination born from anger and fear, I force myself to scramble back onto the platform. My fingers bleed, leaving crimson smears on the cold metal, and my muscles scream in agony, but I refuse to give up. I push on, tackling each new obstacle with grim resolve, my body moving on pure adrenaline and willpower.

I launch myself at a vertical wall, studded with tiny handholds barely big enough for my fingertips. I scale it inch by agonizing inch, my toes searching for purchase on the smoothsurface. Sweat drips into my eyes, stinging and blurring my vision, but I blink it away and keep climbing.