Page 22 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

22

AZRAEL

I fucked up.

I know I did. When I saw the map, I didn't think. I just knew my father was on death's doorstep, and I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to see if one gemstone could at least slow down his decay, if the map would allow me to get the others now.

Gavreel couldn't find them, though. Even with the map. The best I could do is try to use my magic to push them to Kyrie today - well, that was the plan before she found out about my betrayal.

I did mean it when I said I didn't think the map would help her. It's a massive tower, and there were no secrets there that the map could have told her.

But I still know I fucked up.

I should have told her I saw the map. I should have told her why I needed those gemstones. I should have done something besides lie and manipulate her but just like she didn't trust me - evident by the way she hid the map - I don't know how to trust anyone but myself.

We are both out here fighting for our families and we couldn't expect the other to give up their cause. So we gave each other no option.

And I hate myself a little bit for it.

If I could have taken her from the trials, I would have just gotten her mother's medicine. But she can't leave once she enters unless she wins or dies. And I really do need those gemstones.

There are so many ways I could have gone about this better. But I didn't. Instead, I'm stuck here with my mistakes.

The wind whips through my hair as I stand at the observation platform, my wings pulled tight against my back. In front of me, the massive tower stretches up, and I have to crane my head back to watch as contestants grapple, being thrown to the ground by the magic, the poisonous air, gravity, and each other

My hands grip the railing, knuckles white. My little bird moves with surprising grace through the storm-wracked arena, dodging debris and magical projectiles. She's lasted longer than most humans, determination evident in every calculated movement.

But that luck runs out. The same boy from the second trials grabs her, grappling with her, and when she tries to fight back, she is blasted away from his body - and sent falling off the tower.

My body moves before my mind processes what I'm doing. Wings snap open, magic surging through my veins as I dive from the platform. The wind tears at my clothes, but I cut through it, streamlining my descent. Council rules and appearances be damned.

She's falling, tumbling through the air. Her eyes are closed, squeezed shut, and I already know it's not out of fear of death. It's the disappointment that she did not finish, that she did not save her mother.

I reach for her, magic crackling around us as I break through the trial's protective wards. The impact of catching her sends us spinning, but I wrap my wings around us both, creating a cocoon of protection as we hurtle toward the ground. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, face pressed against my chest.

"I've got you, little bird," I growl, pulling up hard, wings straining against the magical storm still raging around us.

Her body feels too light, too fragile in my arms as I land hard on the arena floor. The magical storm still rages overhead, but I curve my wings to create a shield against the biting wind and crackling energy.

"Kyrie." I brush matted hair from her face. Blood trickles from a gash above her temple, and her skin holds a gray pallor that turns my insides to ice. Her chest barely moves - each shallow breath a desperate fight.

Magic pulses through my hands as I scan her injuries. Internal bleeding. Cracked ribs. The poisoned air has gotten to her and barbs from the wind traps have left angry purple welts across her exposed skin. But worst of all, I can practically feel her life slipping away, growing dimmer by the second.

"Don't you dare." My voice comes out rough, primal. I press my palm to her chest, channeling healing energy into her broken body. But it's not enough. The trial's magic interferes, pushing back against my attempts to save her.

Her eyelids flutter, revealing a sliver of green. "Az..." The word comes out as barely a whisper.

"Save your strength." I cradle her closer, my wings tightening around us both. The conduit on her palm sparks weakly, its magic nearly depleted. She'd pushed herself too hard, used too much power trying to survive this cursed trial.

Another scan shows her heart rate slowing. No. Terror claws at my chest - an unfamiliar, unwelcome sensation. I can't lose her. Not like this. Not to these barbaric games my people created for their own twisted entertainment.

I press my forehead to hers, pouring more magic into her failing body. The effort makes my vision blur, but I don't stop. Her skin feels cold against mine, her breathing growing more labored with each passing second.

"Stay with me, little bird." My words come out as a plea rather than a command. "You're stronger than this. Fight."

But her only response is the weakening flutter of her pulse beneath my fingers.

I gather her limp form closer, wings snapping open as I launch us into the air. The closest temple lies north of the arena, its golden spires piercing the clouds. But I'll never make it. Every beat of my wings sends pain shooting through my shoulders - I've drained too much power trying to heal her.

The wind fights me as I climb higher, Kyrie's breathing growing shallower against my chest. Her skin has taken on an ashen hue, life force flickering like a dying ember.

I look out among the crowd, and relief hits me when I see the robes of someone who can save her. I land hard just in front of the spectators, but I don't care about any of them but one.

"Nashai!" My voice is panicked as I stare at the robed woman. "I need your help."

The ancient Praexa stands, her three sets of golden wings casting dancing light across the stone walls. Her white robes ripple with contained power, eyes blazing as she takes in the scene before her.

"I cannot heal her," she says simply.

"No, but you can bond us." I cradle Kyrie closer, feeling her pulse grow weaker. "I need you to do it. Now."

The Nashai's eyes narrow. "You would tether your soul to this mortal? The consequences-"

"I don't care about consequences." Magic crackles around us as my control slips. "She dies, I die. That's my choice."

The Praexa studies us for a long moment, her ancient power pressing against my shields. Finally, she raises her hands, golden light spilling from her fingertips. "This binding cannot be undone," she warns, her hands hovering. "Your souls will be forever intertwined. Her fate becomes yours."

"Do it." My voice cracks on the words. "Please."

The Praexa begins the incantation, her wings spreading wide as she guides the magic. Golden threads of power weave between Kyrie and me, burning like fire where they touch skin.

My hand tightens around Kyrie's cold fingers as the first threads of magic pierce my chest. Pain explodes through my body - white-hot and all-consuming. Every nerve ignites as the binding magic burrows deep into my soul. I grit my teeth, wings trembling with the effort to remain standing.

I never thought it would be painful, but maybe when I'm dragging a dying soul back to life, it shouldn't surprise me.

The golden threads weave between us, creating an intricate lattice of light that connects our bodies. Each strand burns as it settles into place, marking my essence with an unbreakable seal. I feel the exact moment the magic reaches my core - a sensation like molten metal being poured directly into my heart.

Through the haze of agony, I sense something new stirring. A presence, weak but growing stronger. Kyrie's consciousness brushes against mine, her soul responding to the binding. The connection deepens with each passing second, until I can no longer tell where my essence ends and hers begins.

The magic crescendos, and I feel my soul stretch, expand, reshape itself to accommodate this new connection. It's excruciating and exhilarating all at once. Beneath my palm, Kyrie's heart begins to beat stronger. Her life force, now permanently tethered to mine, pulls from my strength. Color returns to her cheeks as the binding solidifies, creating an unbreakable bridge between our souls.

A mark burns itself into my chest, directly over my heart - an intricate pattern of interwoven lines that matches the one appearing on Kyrie's skin. The physical manifestation of our bond, a visible reminder of the choice I've made.

The binding magic fades, leaving behind an ache in my chest and the constant awareness of another soul connected to mine. I gather Kyrie's still-unconscious form in my arms, wings spreading wide as I take flight once more.

Even though it is just a drop to the arena floor, it feels different now to move, to exist. Every beat of my wings sends ripples of sensation through our newly forged bond. Her presence in my mind is like a warm ember, growing stronger with each passing moment as my magic flows into her depleted body.

I land softly on the ground, kneeling with her in my arms. My hand finds its way to her cheek, thumb brushing across skin that's already losing its deathly pallor. Through our connection, I feel the exact moment my power begins to truly merge with hers.

Golden light dances beneath her skin, following the paths of her veins like liquid sunlight. The angry purple welts from the poisoned wind traps fade to nothing. Her breathing deepens, becomes stronger. The bond pulses between us, a steady rhythm that matches the beating of our hearts.

"Come on, little bird," I murmur. "Please come back to me."