Page 26 of Angel of Ruin

But I can't. I won't.

"I expected more," I snarl, injecting as much venom into my voice as I can muster. "Is this really the best you can do?"

I see the hurt flash across her face, quickly replaced by that stubborn determination I've come to expect from her. She grits her teeth and tries again, her fingers dancing through the air as she attempts to manipulate the flames.

I turn away, unable to watch anymore. What's happening to me? Why do I care if this human succeeds or fails? She's nothing to me, just another pawn in the xaphan's cruel game.

But even as I think it, I know it's a lie. Lyra has become something more, something I can't quite define.

And it terrifies me.

13

LYRA

Istare at the enchanted bracelets on my wrists, willing them to work. The silver metal feels cold against my skin, a constant reminder of my inadequacy. I close my eyes, trying to focus on the unfamiliar energy coursing through my veins.

"Again," Sariel's harsh voice cuts through my concentration. "You're wasting everyone's time."

I grit my teeth, refusing to let his words affect me. But they do. Every sneer, every cruel remark chips away at my resolve. It's like we're back to square one, all the progress we made erased in an instant.

It's been days of this. The second trial is coming and it is stretching me thin. And each time I work with this magic, it feels like it sticks to my veins, refusing to cooperate.

Not to mention the distraction of Sariel.

I push the thought of our night together out of my mind. I can't afford to be distracted, not when the second trial is only days away. But the memory lingers, a ghost of warmth in the cold reality of our current relationship.

"I said again!" Sariel barks, his golden eyes flashing with impatience.

I take a deep breath and try once more to channel the xaphan magic. I swear it's gotten harder to manipulate each day. At first, I could make weak orbs of light and fire magic. Now, it feels like trying to grasp smoke with my bare hands. The energy slips through my fingers, leaving me frustrated and drained.

"Just what I expect from a human," Sariel mutters, turning away from me in disgust.

His words sting more than they should. I want to scream at him, to demand an explanation for his sudden cruelty. But I can't. I need to focus on the trial, on proving myself worthy of wings.

I close my eyes again, reaching deep within myself for any scrap of magical ability. The bracelets grow warm against my skin, and for a moment, I feel a spark of something. But then it's gone, leaving me emptier than before.

"Time's up," Sariel announces coldly. "Maybe you'll actually accomplish something tomorrow. But I doubt it."

As he walks away, I fight back tears of frustration. I refuse to let him see me cry. I refuse to let him win.

But as I watch his retreating form, I can't help but wonder what changed. What happened to the Sariel who saved me from falling? The one who held me close and made me feel things I never thought possible?

I guess the same thing that happened to the girl that wanted his help.

I shake my head, banishing those thoughts. I can't afford to dwell on what-ifs and maybes. The second trial is coming, and I need to be ready. No matter what it takes, I will master this magic. I will earn my wings.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll figure out why Sariel's rejection hurts more than any physical pain I've endured in these trials.

"That's enough for today!" Sariel shouts, stalking toward the front of the training room. "Return the bracelets."

I hand over the bracelet, feeling a strange mix of relief and disappointment. The cold metal has left a faint mark on my skin, a reminder of my failure to master xaphan magic.

"Alright, vespids," Sariel's voice booms across the training ground as he stares at us like the disgusting bugs he seems to think we are. "We're switching gears. Physical endurance training starts now."

A collective groan rises from the group, but I straighten my shoulders. This, at least, is something I feel prepared for.

We start with a grueling obstacle course. I push myself hard, my muscles screaming in protest as I climb, jump, and crawl through various challenges. Sweat drips into my eyes, but I blink it away, focused on the goal ahead.

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