Page 16 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

16

AZRAEL

I stand at the ancient observation deck carved from living crystal, my wings rigid against my back as Kyrie steps into the third trial's elemental chambers. The crystalline dome above casts fractals of light across the polished stone floor, each beam tinted with traces of magical residue from centuries of trials.

My fingers curl around the ornate railing. The metal, cold and unyielding, bears the same elaborate spirals and runes that adorn all xaphan architecture. Below, the elemental chambers stretch out like a labyrinth - each section pulsing with raw elemental power.

Fire writhes in contained infernos. Water crashes against invisible barriers. Earth rumbles with tectonic force. Air howls through void-touched tunnels.

Each one is ready to destroy the person that comes in contact with it, like the elements themselves are alive.

"You can do this, little bird," I mutter under my breath, watching her small form navigate the entrance chamber.

The conduit I gave her glints on her palm - a mere trinket compared to what she faces. But she's been practicing and I knew it would be most useful in this trial. She's even gotten used to having it on at all times, using magic more regularly like it's second nature to her.

I see the way the Praexa, trainers, and overseers sneer and laugh at the humans. But they don't know what drives her. Don't understand the fierce determination I've witnessed during our training sessions. The way she manipulates magic with an instinct that defies her human limitations.

The chamber seals behind her with a resonant boom that echoes through the observation deck. My jaw clenches as the first elemental guardian materializes - a towering construct of living flame that moves with deadly grace. Around me, the other observers lean forward, eager for bloodsport. Their wings rustle with anticipation of another human failure.

My own wings betray me again, spreading slightly before I force them still. The feathers quiver with suppressed tension. I shouldn't care. Or maybe I should stop trying to convince myself of that. The latter would be more likely to happen.

I track Kyrie's movements as she faces the fire guardian, my breath catching as she rolls beneath a searing arc of flame. The conduit on her palm pulses with stored magic - magic I helped her harness through countless nights of training.

She doesn't conjure a shield like most would attempt. Instead, she redirects the guardian's attacks, using its own power against it with a finesse that makes my chest tight.

"Impressive. For a human." A sneering voice cuts through my focus. Praexa Malachai steps beside me, his triple set of pure white wings casting shadows across the observation deck. "Though she'll break like the rest."

I don't respond, keeping my eyes fixed on Kyrie as she clears the fire chamber. The next guardian rises from depths that would crush a normal being - a creature of crushing water and ice that towers above her small frame.

My wings flex as she faces it head-on. The chamber floods, but she doesn't panic. The conduit gleams as she channels magic through it, creating pockets of breathable air. She moves like she's dancing, each step precise and measured. It's nothing like the frantic scrambling of previous contestants.

"She understands the elements," I say, more to myself than anyone else. "Doesn't fight against them."

Below, Kyrie navigates through the crushing pressure, using the water's momentum rather than resisting it. The guardian launches spears of ice. She twists, letting them pass close enough to slice strands of her auburn hair. Each movement is calculated, conserving energy while pressing forward.

Pride swells in my chest, followed by a spike of fear as a wall of pressurized water slams into her. But she emerges, teeth gritted, eyes blazing with that fierce determination that first caught my attention. The conduit channels a burst of magic that splits the next wave, creating a path forward.

The other observers mutter in disappointment when she reaches the chamber's exit, still standing. Still fighting. My little bird, soaring through trials meant to break her wings before they can grow.

I grip the railing harder as Kyrie enters the final chamber, my knuckles white against the metal. The air crackles with raw power - earth, fire, water, and air swirling together in a maelstrom of pure elemental force. The final guardian emerges, a being of crystallized magic that towers three stories high, its form constantly shifting between states.

"Careful" I whisper, watching her assess the threat.

The conduit pulses steadily on her palm as she circles the chamber's edge. She's tired - I can see it in the slight tremor of her shoulders, the way her breaths come quick and sharp.

The guardian strikes without warning. A lance of condensed elements tears through the air. Kyrie dives, but not fast enough. The magic catches her side, ripping through flesh and muscle. Her scream echoes through the chamber, cutting straight into my chest. Blood sprays across the stone floor in an arc of crimson.

My wings snap open fully, every feather bristling with the need to dive in and shield her. Somehow, I manage not to move.

She's on her knees, one hand pressed to the wound while the other still grips the conduit. The guardian looms over her, gathering power for another strike.

"Get up," I growl, my fingers crushing the railing. The metal groans beneath my grip. "Get up, Kyrie."

The guardian's next attack comes as a wave of molten stone wrapped in lightning. Kyrie tries to roll away, but her injury slows her. The magic catches her full force, throwing her against the chamber wall. I swear I hear a fucking bone crack. See her body crumple to the ground.

I bare my teeth, watching Kyrie struggle to rise. Blood runs down her face. The conduit flickers weakly. But her eyes - those fierce green eyes - still burn with defiance as she faces the guardian again.

Every muscle in my body screams to act. But I force my wings back against my spine, each feather screaming in protest. The metal railing warps beneath my grip as Kyrie stumbles to her feet, blood darkening her tunic.

Magic crackles through the chamber, raw power that sets my teeth on edge. The guardian towers over her, its crystalline form refracting light in dizzying patterns across the stone walls.

I'm careful to keep my face carved in stone. My wings and knuckles give me away, but I could just be as enthralled in the anticipation as the other xaphan. Or at least that's what I want them to think.

They can't know how my chest constricts watching Kyrie dodge another blast of elemental fury. Can't see how each drop of her blood that hits the floor feels like acid in my veins. I'm supposed to be her trainer, nothing more. A xaphan teaching a human basic magic manipulation - a task far beneath my station, but necessary for my own ends.

The guardian unleashes a torrent of ice shards. Kyrie raises the conduit, channeling what little magic remains to deflect the worst of it. Still, several crystals slice through her arms, adding to the growing collection of wounds. Her determination burns bright as ever, but her body betrays her with each labored breath.

My wings twitch again, and I dig my nails into my palms until they draw blood. The pain helps ground me, reminds me of my purpose. This human means nothing. She's a means to an end, a pawn in breaking my family's curse. Her life or death shouldn't matter.

But when she screams - a sound of pure agony as the guardian's magic tears through her shoulder - my resolve starts to crack. For a heartbeat, I almost leap in. But I grit my teeth and stay perfectly still.

I watch, muscles coiled tight, as Kyrie faces the guardian one final time. Blood drips steadily from her wounds, but she shows no signs of backing down.

The guardian towers over her, its crystalline form shifting through elements like water through glass. Fire becomes ice becomes lightning becomes stone. Raw power crackles through the chamber, making my feathers stand on end.

Then Kyrie does something unexpected. Instead of fighting back, she closes her eyes. The conduit's glow dims to almost nothing. The guardian launches a final assault - a maelstrom of combined elements that should tear her apart.

But she doesn't move. Doesn't try to dodge or shield herself. The magic hits her... and flows around her like water splitting around a stone.

She's not fighting it - she's letting it pass through her, redirecting its natural flow just as I taught her. The guardian's power dissipates, leaving her standing in its wake.

My breath catches as she opens her eyes and takes one step forward. Another. The guardian's form begins to destabilize, its elements separating and returning to their natural state.

Kyrie reaches out with her bloodied hand and touches its core. The crystalline being shatters into thousands of glittering shards that rain down around her.

The chamber falls silent. Even the other xaphan observers have stopped their sneering commentary. I release a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding, the tension draining from my wings so suddenly they droop slightly before I can catch myself.

She's done it. Despite the wounds, despite the overwhelming odds, my little bird has survived the third trial. Pride swells in my chest before I can suppress it.

Below, Kyrie sways on her feet, finally allowing exhaustion to show on her face. Blood continues to seep from her injuries, but her eyes find mine through the crystalline dome. A small, fierce smile crosses her lips before a door opens behind her and she limps out. It closes, locking the other contestants in to face the same fate, but I don't care about them.

I'm already turning, striding from the observation deck as I head beneath the arena. My footsteps echo against polished stone as I take the ancient spiraling staircase down, passing elaborate tapestries depicting past trials.

My wings flex unconsciously as I approach her door, carved with the traditional symbols of protection and warding that I taught her. The blood trail ends here. Without hesitation, I push it open.

Kyrie sits on the edge of her bed, attempting to wrap a bandage around her torn shoulder. Her tunic lies discarded on the floor, soaked through with blood and water. Raw wounds crisscross her skin, angry red against pale flesh. The conduit on her palm still pulses weakly, responding to the ambient magic in the room.

"Stubborn little bird," I growl, crossing the space between us in two strides. "Where's the healer?"

"Sent her away." Her voice comes rough, exhausted. "Don't need-"

"Shut up." I grab the bandage from her trembling fingers. My wings curve forward instinctively, creating a barrier between her and the door. "You're going to bleed out at this rate."

She tries to pull away but sways, catching herself on the bed's ornate headboard. The movement reveals the full extent of her injuries - deep gashes along her ribs, burns across her back, bruises blooming like dark flowers on her skin. Each mark makes my jaw clench tighter.

"I did it though." That fierce smile returns, despite the pain etched in her features. "I only have one trial left."

"Hold still." I press my palm against her worst wound, letting healing magic flow from my fingertips into torn flesh. She hisses but doesn't flinch away. "You nearly got yourself killed."

"But I didn't." Her green eyes meet mine, still burning with that indomitable spirit that makes my chest ache. "I survived. Just like you taught me."

And that sends an ache through me that I don't expect.