Page 2 of Angel of Ruin

I'm going to do it. I'm going to earn my wings or die trying.

Clutching my basket of fruit, I turn away and return to our village, made up of crudely constructed homes and gardens that supply us with vegetables year-round. I smile and wave at the many neighbors I pass, like Maggie and Katrina and little Marcus who runs away with a wooden toy his father made for him.

In this village, we don't have much, but we make do with what we can. But I've always had ambitions for so much more. All my life, I've had to watch the xaphan live lavishly while my people have survived on crumbs.

When will the tides change? Will they ever?

Sucking in a deep breath, I enter my small home, where my mother cooks a stew over the fire and my father fixes the holes in his worn clothes with a needle and thread. I set my basket on the table and clear my throat, catching their attention.

"Back so soon, Lyra?" my mother asks, wiping her hands on her stained apron. "You remembered to pick the ripest fruits for your father, right? He's been working all day."

I nod, pressing my lips into a thin line. It takes everything within me to blurt out the words on my tongue, but I go for it.

"Mom, Dad, I have something important to tell you."

They both look up, my father's needle pausing mid-stitch.

"There's... there's going to be new wing trials soon," I say, wringing my hands together. "They're giving us another chance to earn xaphan wings."

The silence that follows is deafening. My mother's spoon clatters against the pot, and my father's face darkens.

"Lyra," he growls. "Don't you dare think about it."

"But Dad, I?—"

"No!" He slams his fist on the table, making me flinch. "We won't go through that humiliation again. Do you have any idea what you put us through last time?"

My mother joins in, her voice sharp. "We were the laughingstock of the entire village. Everyone pitied us for having such a failure for a daughter."

Their words cut deep, reopening old wounds. I struggle to keep my voice steady. "I-I know I failed before, but I've grown stronger. This time will be different, I promise."

"Different?" My father scoffs. "The only thing different will be how much deeper you drag our family name through the mud."

"Your father's right," my mother adds. "We had such high hopes for you, Lyra. And you crushed them all."

I feel tears pricking at my eyes, but I blink them back. "I can do this. I'll make you proud this time."

"Proud?" My father stands up, towering over me. "You've already shown us what you're capable of. Nothing. You're weak, Lyra. Always have been."

"We expected so much more from you," my mother remarks, stirring her stew with a hand resting on her hip. "Now look at us. Barely scraping by while you chase impossible dreams."

Swallowing down the knot in my throat, I blink away the tears and hurry out of my home. I don't stop until I'm farther away, taking refuge in Helen's garden that grows fresh vegetables and herbs. The aromatic smells calm me down for a moment, giving me a chance to get my wits together.

"They're wrong about me," I whisper, wiping away some tears that have managed to spill out. "They don't know what they're talking about."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against one of Helen's trellises. My parents' words still sting, but I can't let them hold me back. They're just scared. Scared of being humiliated again. But I won't fail this time. I can't.

"I'll show them," I mutter, clenching my fists. "I'll show everyone."

I scan the garden, making sure I'm alone. Helen's usually busy at the communal kitchen this time of day, so I should have some privacy for a while. Perfect.

I start with push-ups, my arms trembling as I lower myself to the ground.

One, two, three...

My muscles burn, but I keep going.

Ten, eleven, twelve...