Page 17 of Angel of Ruin

The next item is a small flame dancing on a candle wick. "Extinguish it without touching it," I say.

Lyra stares at the flame intently. Her breathing slows, becomes measured. The flame flickers, wavers, and then - impossibly - goes out.

I stare at her, speechless. This human, this impossible human, has just done what should have been beyond her capabilities.

Each object has some conduit properties, designed for lower level magic. None of them are powerful but for her to utilize any of them…

"Impressive," I mutter, then immediately regret it as her face lights up.

"Really?" she asks, breathless and grinning.

I scowl, trying to stamp down the warmth in my chest. "For a human," I add quickly. "Don't get cocky."

But as I watch her practice, refining her control over each spell, I can't deny the truth. She has potential. Real, undeniable potential.

The realization hits me like a punch to the gut. If she continues like this, she might actually complete the trials. But then what? The wings were never meant to be given. She'll die trying to claim a prize that doesn't exist.

I could tell her now. End this charade before she gets herself killed. She's just one human - who would even notice if she disappeared?

But as I open my mouth to speak, I catch sight of her face. She's smiling, proud and hopeful, as she perfects a particularly tricky spell. Something in my chest tightens.

"Sariel?" she asks, noticing my hesitation. "Is everything okay?"

I swallow hard, the words dying in my throat. "Fine," I manage. "Keep practicing."

As I watch her return to her tasks, I realize I'm in deeper trouble than I thought. Because a part of me - a part I didn't even know existed - wants to save her.

These trials are meant to kill humans. They give them false hope so they will keep looking up to the xaphan, they give the xaphan and demons something to do to unleash their blood thirst on something that shouldn't matter.

But now the thought of Lyra suffering in the trials — the thought of her dying — makes me uneasy. They were never meant to give her wings, and for a moment, I waver on if I should tell her now before she gets killed. I could get her out. She's one human, and one human disappearing wouldn't raise any questions.

"Let's move to physical training," I bark and she follows, always ready.

I watch Lyra as she practices, her face scrunched in concentration. She's getting better, damn her. Each day, she surprises me with her progress. It's infuriating. And impressive.

"Again," I bark, pushing her harder. She needs to be ready. She has to survive.

The thought hits me like a punch to the gut. When the fuck did I start caring whether this human lives or dies?

But as I watch her execute a perfect defensive maneuver, I can't deny the pride that swells in my chest. She's learning. She might actually have a chance.

And that terrifies me.

Because the trials aren't meant to be survived. They're a cruel joke.

But Lyra... she's different. She's got something, a fire that won't be extinguished. And for the first time in my centuries ofexistence, I find myself wanting to protect someone other than myself.

"That's enough for today," I say gruffly, trying to shake off these unwelcome feelings.

Lyra looks up at me, her blue eyes shining with determination. "Already? But I can keep going. I need to be ready for the next trial."

The next trial. The words twist in my gut like a knife. I know what's coming, the horrors she'll face. And suddenly, I don't want her anywhere near it.

"You need rest," I snap, harsher than I intend. "You're no good to anyone if you're dead on your feet."

She flinches at my tone, and I hate myself for it. But it's better this way. Better to push her away than to admit how much I've come to care.

"Fine," she huffs, her fire flaring up like it always does. My little nexari has claws and she never lets me forget it.

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