Page 9 of Court of Twisted Angels (Cruel Beautiful Angels of Aerasak #1)

9

KYRIE

T he wind howls around me, a haunting melody that matches the thunder of my pulse. Below, an endless expanse of emerald treetops stretches toward the horizon, their leaves dancing in waves like a distant sea. The wooden platform creaks beneath my feet, weathered boards worn smooth by countless aspirants before me.

I grip the railing, my knuckles white against the ancient wood. The height steals my breath – we must be at least five hundred feet up. Magic shimmers in the air, visible as faint purple wisps that curl and twist through the gaps between the planks. These enchantments are all that keep the massive structure aloft, defying nature's laws as casually as breathing.

"This was a stupid idea," I mutter.

My auburn hair whips across my vision, and I push it back with trembling fingers. The only thing that keeps me up on the dizzying training platform is the constant reminder of why I'm here. Of who needs me to succeed.

But the platform sways slightly, and my stomach lurches. Dawn breaks over the distant mountains, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold, but I barely notice its beauty. Instead, my eyes keep dragging back to that terrible drop.

The enchanted crystals embedded in the platform's edge pulse with a soft blue light, marking the designated takeoff point. Other platforms float in the distance, connected by nothing but air and magic, their silhouettes dark against the morning sky. Somewhere in that aerial maze lies my goal – if I can find the courage to take this first step.

I draw in another shaky breath, tasting magic on my tongue – sharp and metallic, like lightning about to strike. My worn leather boots scrape against the wood as I edge closer to the precipice.

The training wings connected to my back feel impossibly heavy, their joints pressing into my shoulder blades. They were conjured, and they feel like they won't respond to me. One wrong move, one miscalculation, and all my dreams of saving Mother will end here, broken on the forest floor below.

"Quite the view, isn't it?"

The deep voice cuts through my thoughts like a blade. I spin around, my heart leaping into my throat. I'm shocked to see Azrael stands a mere few feet away, his presence commanding the small platform.

Tall and imposing, with jet-black hair pulled back and eyes like shards of winter ice. His wings – real, permanent wings, not the conjured training ones I wear – stretch out behind him, their white feathers shining almost golden in the dawn light.

My brain screams at me to back away, but like that first night, I don't feel debilitating fear around him. Though the scar tissue along my neck and back burns with phantom pain, a stark reminder of my last encounter with his kind.

"I…suppose it is," I answer. "What are you doing up here?"

"I've been watching you." His boots whisper against the wooden planks as he moves closer. "Your form needs work. The way you tense like you expect the training wings to just work instead of properly using them will get you killed on your first jump."

Magic crackles in the air between us, his power radiating off him in waves that make my skin prickle. He gestures to my wings with an elegant hand.

"I could train you." The words fall casual as rainfall, but his ice-blue eyes lock onto mine with predatory intensity. "Personal instruction. One-on-one."

I force myself to breathe, to push past the memory of claws and teeth and burning pain. "Why would a xaphan noble want to train a human?"

His lips curve into a stunning smile. "Let's call it... professional curiosity." He winks, and I'm surprised by the flutter in my stomach from it. It's the same thing he said to me that first night.

My brain tries to piece together what that means, but I come up short. He doesn't seem like he wants me to fail, like he wants to laugh at my expense, but I can't be sure.

The rising sun casts shadows across his angular features, highlighting the dangerous beauty of his face. "So what do you say, little bird? Ready to learn how to really fly?"

The magical barrier surrounding the platform ripples with his proximity, purple energy dancing like aurora lights in the space between us. My heart pounds against my ribs, each beat screaming danger.

But Mother's face floats in my mind, pale and drawn with sickness, and I know I can't afford to let fear rule me. Not now. Not with her life hanging in the balance.

I swallow hard, weighing my options. Every instinct screams to refuse, but the reality is brutal – most humans who attempt the trials fail. Die. And I can't afford to fail.

"Fine." The word tastes like ash in my mouth. "Show me."

His smile widens, revealing teeth too white, too perfect. "Excellent. First, loosen your death grip on those straps. The wings need to feel like an extension of your body, something I know you are familiar with." His eyes flick to my blades

I try to relax my fingers, but they've locked around the leather straps crossing my chest. The wings feel heavier as he circles behind me, and I fight the urge to spin and keep him in sight. My scar throbs with each step he takes.

"Breathe." His voice comes from directly behind me now. "Feel the magic current in the air. It flows like a river – invisible to human eyes, but you can sense it. That current is what will keep you aloft, not just these training wings."

Magic tingles against my skin as he manipulates the energy around us. The purple wisps thicken, forming visible streams that twist through the air like ribbons caught in a breeze.

"Close your eyes."

"I'd rather not."

"Trust has to start somewhere, little bird." His hands hover near my shoulders, not quite touching. "The magic responds to intent as much as skill. Your fear is blocking the flow."

Cursing silently, I let my eyes drift shut. The magical current grows stronger, wrapping around me like silk. The wooden platform seems to fade beneath my feet, leaving me suspended in that ethereal stream.

"Now spread your wings. Slowly. Feel how they catch the current."

I extend the conjured wings, their joints clicking softly. Without sight, every sensation intensifies – the bite of the wind, the hum of magic, the weight of his presence behind me. The wings feel lighter somehow, more responsive.

"Better." His approval sends an unwanted shiver down my spine. "But your shoulders are still rigid as stone. The wings need to move with you, not against you."

His presence fades as I soar higher, carried by currents of magic that dance beneath my wings. The morning sun bathes New Solas in golden light, its crystalline spires glittering like diamonds against the cloudless sky. Below, the ancient forest stretches endlessly, its canopy rippling in waves of deep emerald.

I bank left, following the purple streams of magic that twist through the air like ribbons. The training wings respond smoothly, like they really are a part of me. For a moment, everything feels perfect – weightless, free, powerful.

Then I look down.

The world tilts sideways. My stomach lurches as the distance between me and the ground suddenly becomes too real, too vast. The magical current I'd been riding slips away like water through fingers, leaving me struggling to stay aloft. My chest constricts, each breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Keep moving!" The xaphan's voice cuts through my panic, but I can't make my wings respond. They lock up, the wings stopping as terror freezes my muscles.

The forest floor spins beneath me, trees blurring into a nauseating whirl of green and shadow. Magic crackles around me, but I can't focus enough to grasp it. Panic grabs me as memories flood back – claws tearing, wings beating, pain searing across my back.

My training wings shudder. The right one catches wrong in the wind, throwing me into more of a spiral. Purple wisps of magic stream past, just out of reach. The ground rushes up, then sky, then ground again as I tumble through the air.

"Focus on the current!" he shouts, but the words scatter in the wind. My heart pounds so hard I think it might burst. The scar tissue along my neck and back screams with phantom pain, and I can't tell what's memory and what's now.

Nothing in my body will respond. Every instinct screams at me to curl into a ball, to protect myself, but that will only make the spin worse. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision as the lack of oxygen takes its toll. The forest below keeps spinning, spinning, spinning...

Strong arms wrap around me, solid and steady against the chaos of my spiral. Magic crackles where we touch, his power a tangible force that cuts through my panic like sunlight through storm clouds. My back presses against his chest, and I feel the thunder of his heartbeat even through the warm tunics that are meant to keep out the chill.

"Breathe with me." His voice rumbles close to my ear, surprisingly gentle for a creature I've only known to bring pain. "Feel the rhythm of my wings. Match it."

The powerful sweep of his feathers creates a cocoon around us, blocking out the dizzying view of ground and sky. Purple streams of magic weave between the white feathers, forming a protective barrier that slows our descent.

"That's it. Small breaths." His arms adjust, one hand splaying across my sternum while the other steadies my waist. "Focus on the magic current. It's still there, waiting. You can feel it."

My racing heart begins to slow, falling into sync with the steady beat of his wings. The ones on my back start to relax, responding to his guidance as he helps me extend them properly.

"The fear is natural," he murmurs, his breath stirring my hair. "But you can't let it control you. Feel how the current flows – like water around stone. Don't fight it. Move with it."

Magic swirls around us in visible streams now, and I realize he's manipulating the energy to show me its pattern. The purple ribbons dance and weave, creating paths I can actually see. My breathing steadies further as I watch their hypnotic flow.

"There you are, little bird." His voice holds a note of approval as my wings finally catch the current properly. "Stay with me. We'll take this slowly."

The magic current flows steadier now, a visible river of purple light that carries us through the dawn-painted sky. But awareness creeps back like ice through my veins – I'm wrapped in the arms of a xaphan. The same creatures who scarred me. Who keep my people in poverty. Who watch humans die in their trials for entertainment.

My muscles tense. The wings feel like they pull at my back as I shift, trying to put distance between us. His arms loosen immediately, allowing me to drift a few feet away, though he maintains a hovering presence close enough to catch me if I falter again.

"I don't need your help anymore." The words come out sharper than intended, brittle with remembered pain. The scar tissue along my neck burns, a physical reminder of why I shouldn't trust him.

But my body betrays me, missing the steady anchor of his presence. The magical current feels more elusive now, slipping through my grasp like smoke. My body wobbles uncertainly as I try to maintain altitude alone.

His ice-blue eyes study me, unblinking. "Pride will get you killed faster than fear in these trials."

Purple energy dances between us, responding to his power. The dawn light catches his wings, sending ripples of color across the light feathers. He's beautiful in the way all xaphan are beautiful – deadly and distant as winter stars.

Yet moments ago, those same wings had sheltered me from panic. Those hands, capable of such destruction, had steadied me with surprising gentleness. The contradiction twists in my chest like a knife.

"I can't trust you." The words taste like truth and ashes. "No matter how helpful you seem."

His lips curve into that dangerous almost-smile. "I'm not asking for trust, little bird. Only cooperation."

The magic streams coil around us both, purple light reflecting in his winter-pale eyes. My heart pounds an uneven rhythm, caught between instinctive fear and something else – something I refuse to name.

I'm here to survive. And I won't let this xaphan stop me from that.