Page 36 of Angel of Ruin

"What the fuck am I going to do?" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. I should be reveling in the upcoming carnage, in the inevitable failure of these pathetic humans. Instead, all I can think about is how to keep her safe.

I slam my fist against the wall again, wishing the pain would fucking ground me. I do relish in the sharp pain that shoots through my knuckles, but it doesn't provide the clarity I wish it did.

"Get it together," I growl at myself. "She's just a human."

But even as the words leave my mouth, I know they're a lie. Lyra's not just a human. She's... something else. Something that's crawled under my skin and into my chest.

And I want to keep her there.

I could warn her. Tell her about the sabotage, about the impossibility of her task. But the moment the thought crosses my mind, I see the betrayal in her eyes. The disgust when she realizes I've been complicit in this farce all along.

And beyond that... What then? Even if she believes me, even if she forgives me, what good would it do? She'd still be trapped here, still be forced to participate in a trial designed to kill her.

No, warning her would only serve to ease my own conscience. It wouldn't save her.

I sink into a chair, my head in my hands. When did I start caring more about a human's safety than my duty to the xaphan? When did her life become more important than my position, my standing among my own kind?

The realization hits me like a physical blow. I care about her. More than I should, more than I ever thought possible. And now that care might get us both killed.

18

SARIEL

Istand on the elevated platform, surveying the final trial arena spread out before me. The vast, enclosed space stretches as far as the eye can see, filled with a dizzying array of floating platforms and obstacles. My wings twitch with anticipation, a mix of dread and excitement coursing through me.

The arena is a masterpiece of xaphan magic. Translucent barriers shimmer in the air, creating invisible pathways and dead ends. Floating islands of various sizes hover at different heights, some solid and stable, others wavering and insubstantial.

And everything is at the whim of the overseers.

I focus on a cluster of platforms to my left, knowing they house one of the many death traps. From here, it looks like a clear path forward. But when a human steps onto it, the illusion will shatter, the air pierced with spikes and deadly obstacles they will have to navigate through.

My eyes trace the true path through the arena, barely visible even to my enhanced senses. It weaves through a series of optical illusions designed to confuse and disorient. Distanceswill stretch and contract, directions will shift, and the very ground beneath their feet will seem to move.

In the center of the arena, a massive, swirling vortex of energy pulses. As the humans approach it, it will project their deepest fears and most cherished loved ones. I've seen hardened warriors break down in tears, unable to distinguish reality from illusion.

The humans will be given phantom wings again to work through a series of complex illusions and puzzles to get to the end without dying. The entire arena is another aerial trap, the illusions giving them false paths that lead to death traps, that change distances and directions, or apparitions of loved ones or fears. Anything to stop the humans from finishing.

I clench my fists, knowing what awaits the human candidates. The impossibility of their task weighs heavily on me. My eyes scan the arena again, searching for any weakness, any flaw in the design that might give Lyra a chance.

But there's nothing. The trial is perfect in its cruelty, designed to crush hope and extinguish life. And I'm powerless to stop it.

I stand at attention as the General addresses us, all the overseers gathered, his imposing figure radiating authority. His silver wings, a mark of his high status, shimmer in the dim light of the command center overlooking the arena.

"Today is the last day," he begins, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "We've reached the final stage of these trials. It's time to end this charade with enough entertainment that our crowd will be satisfied."

My jaw clenches involuntarily. I know what's coming, but hearing it aloud makes it real in a way I'm not prepared for.

"The humans must navigate through every obstacle we've laid out for them," the General continues, gesturing to thesprawling arena below. "Physical challenges, magical traps, mental illusions - they'll face it all."

I nod along with the other overseers, maintaining a facade of cool indifference. Inside, my stomach churns.

"But here's the real test," the General's eyes gleam with cruel amusement. "At the end of their journey, they'll face a choice. Multiple portals, each identical to the last. One will lead to the finish line. The rest..." He pauses for effect, "instant death."

A murmur of appreciation ripples through the group. I force myself to smirk, playing my part.

"And just to make things interesting," the General adds, "we'll be pushing them to their absolute limits. Physical exhaustion, mental fatigue, emotional manipulation - use every tool at your disposal. I want them barely coherent when they reach those portals." He looks around at us. "And even if they find the right portal, something else will stop them…"

My mind races to Lyra. I picture her stumbling towards those portals, battered and broken, forced to make a life-or-death decision when she can barely stand. The image makes me sick.