Page 12 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

12

AZRAEL

T he arena's stone walls cast long shadows in the dim light of the magical orbs floating overhead. My wings snap against my back as I pace the secluded alcove, each step echoing off the ancient stonework. The sound of the crowds exiting filters through the archways, celebrating another day of trials while remaining blissfully ignorant of the Praexa's true intentions.

"Fucking bastards." My fist connects with the wall, sending a ripple of pain through my knuckles. The conversation I overheard in the on my way out of the arena replays through my mind.

"Some of the humans show too much promise," one Praexa had said. "We can't have them thinking success is possible. Increase the gravity fields in the next trial. Double the poison concentration."

"But sir, that would mean certain death-"

"Exactly."

A servant scurries past the alcove, their wings spread slightly behind their back in deference. They catch sight of me and quickly avert their gaze, hurrying faster. My reputation precedes me, as always.

The magical wards etched into the arena's foundation pulse with a steady rhythm, their blue light casting eerie patterns across the floor. Each symbol represents another layer of control, another way to manipulate the trials and ensure no human ever succeeds.

My wings twitch again, the feathers rustling with my growing agitation. The little bird has no idea what awaits her in the next trial. She's already survived longer than most, showcasing just how smart she is. It's precisely that skill that's made her one of the targets.

I trace one of the ward symbols with my finger, feeling the magic spark against my skin. The Praexa's tampering will turn an already deadly trial into an impossible challenge. The enhanced gravity alone would crush most contestants. Combined with the toxic atmosphere...

My boots scrape against the stone as I consider my options. Kyrie needs to survive - not because I give a damn about her life, but because she's proven herself capable of navigating the trials and I need to use her. The stone from the first trial still sits unclaimed, pulsing with ancient magic amid the storm-wracked arena.

I slam my palm against the wall. Teaching her to collect the stones would solve two problems at once. She'd stay alive, and I'd get closer to breaking my family's curse. The magic within those artifacts calls to my blood, a constant reminder of what's at stake.

A memory flashes - her determined face as she dodged lightning bolts in the first trial, that innate grace as she wove between debris. Raw talent, untrained but potent. With proper guidance, she could learn to sense the stones' energy, to harness their power to give her more of an edge. There are no rules in the trials - not really.

The wards pulse faster now, their rhythm matching my racing thoughts. Revealing what I'm after is a risk. But my family's curse grows stronger each day, eating away at our essence. I've already lost two siblings to its corruption.

My wings unfurl involuntarily, spanning the width of the alcove as frustration courses through me. The little bird's death would mean starting over, finding another candidate capable of surviving long enough to retrieve the stones. Time I don't have.

The choice crystallizes. I'll train her in secret, show her how to detect the artifacts' unique magical signature. And somehow, I'll convince her to tell no one. She's not after the stones anyway - and I can promise her whatever else she does want.

The sharp click of boots against stone makes me turn. Theron emerges from the shadows, his pure white wings catching the blue glow of the wards. That perpetual smirk twists his features as he leans against the archway.

"Brooding in dark corners again, Azrael? How predictably dramatic."

My wings bristle, feathers spreading in an instinctive display of aggression. "Shouldn't you be preening for your adoring fans?"

"I hear you are training one of the humans." He pushes off the wall, magic crackling between his fingers. "The great Lord Azrael, concerning himself with a mere mortal. Unless..." His eyes narrow. "You're after something else entirely."

The temperature drops as my power rises to meet his challenge. Frost creeps across the stone beneath my feet. "Watch yourself, Theron."

"Still bitter about your family's fall from grace?" His wings flare wide, blocking the archway. "Maybe I'll seek the human out myself. See what's so special about he-"

My magic explodes outward, slamming him against the wall. Ice crystals form around his throat as I pin him there. "Finish that sentence. I dare you."

A small crowd of servants and guards gathers at the edges of our confrontation, their whispers echoing off the stone. Theron's magic pushes back against mine, golden light cutting through the frost.

"You're slipping, Azrael." He breaks free of my hold, straightening his formal robes. "The curse must be taking its toll. Soon you'll be nothing but a cautionary tale - the noble house that dared reach beyond their station."

My vision bleeds red. The magical wards pulse erratically, responding to our clashing energies. A guard steps forward to intervene but freezes when both Theron and I turn our glares upon him.

"Keep pushing, Theron. See what happens when I stop playing by the rules."

With that, I push out of the alcove. I need a moment away to breathe, to think, and I head back toward my home.

The family estate's marble halls echo with my footsteps as I climb the winding staircase to my father's chambers. Guilt gnaws on me when I think about how long it's been since I was up here. Magical orbs cast a warm glow across the ancient tapestries depicting our lineage - each scene a reminder of what we've lost.

I pause at the doorway. The sight hits me like a physical blow. Father lies motionless in the massive four-poster bed, his once-magnificent wings now dull and brittle. The curse's corruption spreads like black veins beneath his skin, a stark contrast to the natural luminescence all xaphan possess.

"My son." His voice cracks, barely above a whisper. The effort of speaking causes his wings to tremor.

I cross to his bedside, past the scattered healing crystals and empty potion vials that litter every surface. Their magic has long since faded, useless against our bloodline's affliction. The air feels thick with lingering spells - evidence of our healers' futile attempts to slow the curse's progression.

"I hear…you are at…the arena these days?" He struggles to focus his gaze, those once-piercing golden eyes now clouded and dim.

"Yes." I grip the ornate bedpost, my knuckles white. The wood creaks beneath my fingers. "I've found someone who might help us retrieve the stones."

A coughing fit wracks his body. Dark energy pulses beneath his skin with each spasm, the curse feeding off his weakened state. His wings twitch helplessly against the silk sheets.

"Be careful, Azrael." Blood tints his lips as he speaks. "The other houses-"

"The other houses can be damned." The temperature plummets as my control slips. Frost spreads across the windowpanes. "They all mock us, and when I break this curse, I'll put them in their place."

Father's hand trembles as he reaches for mine. His touch burns cold - another symptom of the curse's progression. The same corruption that killed my siblings now eats away at him, turning our celestial nature against itself.

My wings snap open, knocking over a stand of healing crystals. They shatter against the floor, their magic dissipating in useless sparks. The sound matches the breaking of something inside me as I watch another piece of my father's strength fade away.

I stay with him a while longer until he is asleep and my body is burning to do something. So, like I have been every day when I get restless, I go back to the arena.

I find Kyrie in the training grounds, her auburn hair dampened with sweat as she practices defensive positions. Her body moves with such grace as she whips her swords, her stance admirable.

"You did well today," I call out, and she spins to face me. I watch the emotions that flicker across her face - the shock, fear, and what looks like a tinge of excitement.

"I survived." She pushes her auburn hair out of her face and my fingers itch to reach for the strand she missed. But I'm not to touch her, something that's becoming harder to remember. "Now I need to focus on the next."

"Speaking of the next…" I come a little closer, stopping a distance away that will leave her comfortable. "I saw something during this trail that I didn't expect."

"The gemstone?"

I pause. I thought I saw her going after it, but I don't know how much she knows. "Yes. I hear they'll be in each trial."

"I've heard whispers of them." Her green eyes lock onto mine, sharp with interest. I should have expected as much. She's very observant. "What kind of power do they hold?"

"The kind that could help you survive." I shift casually closer, just wanting to be near her. The need for it is as frustrating as my curse. "I'm not sure where they'll be, but you need to take any stones you find." The words taste bitter. "They'll enhance your natural abilities, give you an edge."

"Won't everyone be going after them?" She looks unconvinced.

I shrug. "Won't everyone be trying to survive?" I cock a brow. "This could help you. And then after the trials, I can put the stones back where they belong and help you get what you're really after - medicine."

Her eyes light up and my heart twists. I'm just using her, and it feels so fucking wrong all the sudden. "You would do that?"

I jerk my chin in an almost noncommittal nod. "Of course."

I hate the way that this plan is starting to make me feel like I…care. But for the life of me, I can't squash it.