Page 38 of Angel of Ruin

But I can't push her into anyone's view. She'll become a target, someone to torment, and I don't want them to start trying to kill her.

I try to focus on my duties, to maintain the facade of indifference. But my eyes keep drifting back to Lyra, tracking her progress through the deadly maze we've created.

She's so close now. So close to the end, to the choice that no human is meant to survive.

And I don't know if I have the strength to watch her die.

19

LYRA

Igrit my teeth, pushing through the burning in my muscles as I navigate another floating platform. The air around me shimmers with illusions, but I've started to notice subtle patterns in the magic. A faint shimmer here, a slight distortion there—telltale signs of fabrication.

My phantom wings ache, the spell granting me flight feeling more unstable with each passing moment. I can't shake the feeling that even this magic is working against us, designed to fail at the worst possible moment.

A familiar face appears before me—my mother, her expression twisted with disappointment. "You'll never be good enough," she sneers.

I falter for a moment, old insecurities threatening to overwhelm me. But then I notice the slight flicker in her image. Another illusion.

"Not real," I mutter, pushing through the apparition. It dissolves around me, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

I leap to the next platform, my legs trembling with exhaustion. How long have we been at this? Minutes> Hours? Time seems to blur in this nightmarish arena.

Ahead, I spot what looks like a clear path to one of the exit portals. It's too easy. My eyes narrow, searching for the trap. There—a barely perceptible distortion in the air. The "safe" path is an illusion, likely leading to a deadly fall.

I veer off, choosing a route that looks more treacherous but feels real. Sharp spikes jut from the next platform, forcing me to weave between them. My arms and legs are slashed and bleeding, but I press on. Pain means it's real. Pain means I'm still alive.

As I near what I hope is the final stretch, I catch a glimpse of golden eyes watching from above. Sariel. For a moment, our gazes lock. Is that concern I see flashing across his face? Or am I just seeing what I want to see?

I shake off the thought. I can't afford distractions now. Wings or death—those are my only options. And I refuse to die here, a pawn in their cruel game.

I push forward, my lungs burning with each ragged breath. The end is so close—I can see the shimmering exit portals just ahead. My muscles scream in protest, but I force myself to keep moving. Just a little further...

Suddenly, the air around me shifts. A violent gust slams into me from the side, nearly knocking me off the platform. I stumble, barely catching myself before toppling over the edge. What the fuck?

The wind picks up, swirling around me in a dizzying vortex. My phantom wings flap uselessly against the onslaught. This isn't right. It feels so targeted.

"Fuck!" I curse as another gust threatens to sweep me off my feet and my wings give up. I drop to my knees, clinging desperately to the edge of the platform. The world spins around me, a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes that makes my stomach lurch.

I don't recognize anything now. I have no way to combat the swirling magic and wind — a vortex. I was taught to maneuver with my wings but this…

Realization hits me like a punch to the gut. This wasn't part of the original course. Someone's changed it. Sabotaged it.

Sariel's face flashes through my mind. His golden eyes, usually so cold, filled with conflict the last time I saw him. Did he do this? Was everything between us just another cruel trick?

Anger and betrayal surge through me, giving me a burst of strength. I won't let them win. I won't let him win. I've come too far to fail now.

I force myself to focus, searching desperately for any pattern in the chaotic winds that threaten to rip me apart. My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a reminder of how close I am to failure—to death.

Then, I spot it. There—a slight pause between gusts. It's not much, but it might be enough. It has to be enough.

Gritting my teeth so hard my jaw aches, I time my movements with the brief lulls. Inch by agonizing inch, I crawl towards the nearest exit portal.

The wind howls in my ears like a furious beast, threatening to tear me away at any moment. My muscles scream in protest, but I push through the pain. I can't give up now. I won't.

With each excruciating movement, I'm hyperaware of how exposed I am, how one wrong move could send me hurtling into the abyss. But I keep going, driven by a determination I didn't know I possessed.

My fingers brush the edge of the portal, so close I can feel its energy humming against my skin. Just a little more...