Page 2 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

2

AZRAEL

I stand before the cursed artifact in my study, its malevolent aura pulsing through the room like a twisted heartbeat. The crystalline structure floats inches above its obsidian pedestal, casting an eerie blue glow across the ancient tomes and scrolls lining the walls.

My fingers trace the edge of my desk, the polished mahogany smooth beneath my touch. Outside the arched windows, the twin moons cast their pale light across the grounds of the estate, illuminating the carefully tended gardens where healing herbs grow in abundance - useless against our family's affliction.

The artifact spins slowly, mocking me with each rotation. Its jagged edges catch the moonlight, refracting it into sharp daggers across the ceiling. What was meant to be our family's greatest triumph has become our destruction, turning our noble xaphan bloodline into a cautionary tale whispered in dark corners.

"Master Azrael." A servant materializes at the doorway, head bowed. "Your father's condition has worsened."

I clench my jaw, the muscles in my face tightening. "How bad?"

"The healers say his wings are beginning to fade. The feathers..." He hesitates. "They're turning to ash at the slightest touch."

Another symptom of our curse. Soon, like the others before him, father will be gone. The curse eats away at us, and it won't be long before our entire bloodline has succumbed to it, dragging our once great name down.

"I'll come see him soon."

The servant takes the dismissal and leaves. I spend a few more moments studying the artifact, knowing if I wait too much longer Castiel himself will come drag me to the council chambers.

Sighing, I turn away from the artifact, striding down the torch-lit corridors of our ancestral manor. My footsteps echo against marble floors as I make my way to the room where my most trusted circle awaits.

The heavy oak doors creak open to reveal five figures seated around an ancient table carved with celestial runes. Candlelight flickers across their faces - scholars and mages who've dedicated years to breaking our curse.

"The sacred gemstones." I press my palms against the table's smooth surface. "What have you discovered?"

Castiel, our chief archivist, unfurls a weathered scroll across the table. His silver wings twitch as he traces the intricate diagrams with a gnarled finger. "I've found ancient texts that speak of their power to cleanse cursed artifacts. They call them the Tears of Solas."

"And their location?" My wings flex involuntarily, sending shadows dancing across the walls.

"The trials." Gavreel, our spymaster, leans forward. His white hair gleams in the candlelight. "The Praexa have scattered them throughout the challenges. They mean to make sport of our desperate search."

"Explain." Ice creeps into my voice.

"Other noble houses seek the stones as well. The Praexa have placed them within different stages of the trials." He pauses. "They wish to watch us tear each other apart for their entertainment because, apparently, the humans are doing it well enough."

"Which houses?"

"House Meridian claims the first stone lies within the darkness of the initiation chamber. House Voss pursues another in the storm arena. The others..." He shakes his head. "How many there are and the locations remain unclear, but I would consider that there will be one or more in each trail."

Rage burns through my veins, but I keep my expression neutral. The Praexa would turn our salvation into a spectacle, forcing us to compete against our own kind while humans die for their amusement.

"Then we have no choice." I straighten, letting my authority fill the room. "I will go to the trials myself."

"My lord," Castiel protests, "The risks-"

"Are nothing compared to watching our bloodline wither." I cut him off. "Prepare what we need. The next trials begin in three days."

"There's something else." Gavreel's wings rustle as he shifts in his seat. His golden eyes dart to the other council members before settling on me. "The trials have... changed."

"Changed?" I lean back, studying his face.

"A human." His lip curls. "One actually earned her wings at the last one."

Laughter erupts around the table. Castiel nearly chokes on his wine. Even I can't suppress a smirk at such an absurd claim.

"Impossible." I wave my hand through the air. "No human has ever completed the trials. They're nothing more than entertainment for the masses."

"I thought the same." Gavreel produces a scroll from his robes. "But I have proof. The Praexa themselves confirmed it. They're using her victory to draw more humans in."

"Humans have grown wary." Castiel strokes his beard. "Word spreads through their pathetic settlements that the trials are rigged. Numbers have dwindled at recent events."

"The Praexa are offering novas now." Gavreel's quill scratches against parchment as he makes notes. "Enough to feed a human family for years. But that's not all - they've added more challenges. My sources say these will be the most brutal trials yet."

"How so?" I drum my fingers against the table.

"There will be an initiation trial and then four trials to follow. They are using every bit of magic to rip apart humans and xaphan alike." His lips curl in a grimace. "They will be nearly impossible to train for and even harder to survive, even with magic."

The council chamber falls silent. Even the candles seem to dim.

"They mean to create a true spectacle." Gavreel rolls up his scroll. "One worthy of drawing both desperate humans and noble houses. The Praexa grow bored with simple death - they want to witness suffering."

I rise from my chair, pacing before the ancient fireplace. The flames cast my shadow large against the wall, my wings spread wide in the flickering light. The Praexa's game grows more complex, but it changes nothing. I will find a way into their trials, claim the stones, and save my bloodline - no matter how many humans or noble houses stand in my way.

I pause at one of the windows of the chamber, overlooking the sprawling expanse of New Solas. Golden spires pierce the violet sky, their crystalline surfaces catching the light of the twin moons. Magic pulses through the city's ley lines, visible only to those trained to see them - rivers of power flowing beneath the streets like molten gold.

Below, xaphan nobles glide between towers on pristine wings, flashes of white in the air that are so like my own. I push open the window, listening to the market squares as they buzz with activity of merchants hawking their wares from stalls draped in rich fabrics. The scent of incense and spell-work drifts up even to this height, carried by winds that dance between the architecture.

In the western quarter, humans scurry through narrow streets like bugs, their drab clothes a stark contrast to the city's splendor. Torch light flickers in their windows - they can't afford the spelled crystals that illuminate the noble districts. Their desperation is almost palpable, even from here. Each one dreaming of wings they'll never earn.

I trace the path of a zarryn-drawn carriage as it winds through the lower streets, carting in preparations for the trails. The beasts' tufted hide gleams like polished silver, their twin tails twitching with each step.

"The first contestants arrive tomorrow." Gavreel appears beside me, silent as shadow. "They'll be housed in the preparation chambers beneath the arena."

"Good." I flex my wings, watching moonlight play across the feathers. "Let them wear themselves down in training. Every failed attempt, every death, brings us closer to understanding the structure of the new trials."

"And the gemstones?"

"We watch. We wait. These fools will map the hazards for us, reveal the stones' locations through their failures." I gesture toward the massive arena rising from the city's heart, its enchanted barriers shimming like heat waves. "Their bodies will mark the path to our salvation."

A cold smile curves my lips as I imagine the coming spectacle. Let the Praexa have their entertainment. Let the humans chase their impossible dreams. Their suffering will serve a greater purpose - the restoration of my bloodline.