Page 15 of Angel of Ruin

At the top, I'm faced with a narrow balance beam that sways in the wind. I take a deep breath and step out onto it, arms outstretched. The beam wobbles beneath me, threatening to throw me off with each step. I focus on a point in the distance, willing myself not to look down at the dizzying drop below.

Halfway across, the beam starts to rotate. I drop to my knees, wrapping my arms and legs around it as it spins. The world whirls around me, my stomach lurching with each revolution. But I hold on, my nails digging into the metal until the spinning slows.

With shaking limbs, I pull myself to my feet and stumble the rest of the way across. The next obstacle looms before me – a series of platforms that rise and fall at random intervals. I time my jumps carefully, leaping from one to the next as they move. My legs burn with each landing, knees threatening to buckle, but I force myself to keep going.

The final stretch is a gauntlet of swinging pendulums, their metal arms slicing through the air with deadly precision. I watch their rhythm, heart pounding in my chest as I wait for the right moment. Then I'm running, ducking and weaving between the swinging arms. One clips my shoulder, sending me spinning, but I recover and push on.

I stumble forward, my legs trembling with each step. The finish line shimmers in the distance, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of the aerial obstacle course. My lungs burn, desperate for air, as I force myself to keep moving.

Around me, the course is a graveyard of broken dreams. Bodies litter the ground far below, a grim reminder of the cost of failure. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and fear, punctuated by the occasional cry of pain or despair.

I dodge a swinging metal bar, its rusted surface gleaming dully in the harsh sunlight. My foot slips on a wet spot of something — gods, I don't even want to think what it would be — and for a heart-stopping moment, I teeter on the edge of oblivion. Somehow, I manage to right myself, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.

A quick glance behind me reveals the devastating toll of the trial. Where once there was a sea of hopeful faces, now only a handful remain. Guilt twists in my gut as relief blooms through me.

The final obstacle looms before me – a series of razor-thin wires stretched across a yawning chasm. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the challenge. My feet find the first wire, and I inch forward, arms outstretched for balance. The wire vibrates beneath me, threatening to throw me off with each trembling step.

Halfway across, a gust of wind catches me off guard. I wobble precariously, my heart leaping into my throat. For a terrifying moment, I'm sure I'm going to fall. But some reserve of strength I didn't know I possessed surges through me, and I manage to steady myself.

With a final burst of energy, I leap from the wire to solid ground. My legs give out as soon as I land, and I collapse in an ungraceful heap. Every muscle in my body screams in protest as I roll onto my back, gasping for air.

Through the haze of exhaustion, I force my eyes open. My gaze locks with Sariel's, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. His golden eyes widen slightly, and I catch a flicker of... something. Surprise? Respect? It's gone before I can be sure, but it leaves me with a strange warmth in my chest.

But I did it.

I passed the first trial.

8

SARIEL

Istand at the front of the training room, watching as the remaining humans filter in. Only a quarter of them are left after yesterday's trial. More than I expected, but still pathetic.

My eyes land on her the moment she walks through the door. Lyra. The human who's been occupying my thoughts far more than she should. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and cuts on her hands from yesterday's ordeal.

"You." I point at her. "Come with me."

Confusion flashes across her face, but she obeys, following me to a separate training area. I'll show her how weak she truly is. Prove to myself that this human isn't worth my attention.

"We're going to spar," I announce, taking a fighting stance. "Show me what you've got, little nexari. Let me see those claws."

Lyra hesitates, then mirrors my stance. Her form is decent, I'll give her that. But it won't be enough.

I lunge forward, expecting to catch her off guard. But she sidesteps, quicker than I anticipated. Interesting.

We trade blows, and I'm surprised by her agility. She may be exhausted after pushing herself so hard yesterday, but she's notletting it slow her down. Each time I think I have her pinned, she slips away.

"Not bad," I grudgingly admit. "But can you handle this?"

I sweep her legs out from under her, expecting her to hit the ground hard. Instead, she rolls with the fall, popping back up to her feet in one fluid motion.

"I can handle anything you throw at me," she says, a fire in her eyes that wasn't there before.

For the next hour, I push her to her limits. Hand-to-hand combat, endurance drills, even basic magical theory. And damn it all, she keeps up. She's a quick learner, absorbing everything I show her with an eagerness that's almost... admirable.

By the end, we're both breathing hard. Lyra's covered in sweat, her blonde hair sticking to her forehead, but there's a triumphant smile on her face.

"How was that?" she asks, her voice steady despite her exhaustion.

---