Page 49 of Angel of Ruin

Then I see him. Sariel. He's pushing through the crowd, his golden eyes locked on me. There's something in his expression I've never seen before. Pride, relief, and something else. Something that makes my heart skip a beat.

As he reaches me, I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. What can I possibly say? How can I express everything I'm feeling?

Sariel doesn't seem to need words. He pulls me into his arms, holding me tight against his chest. I sink into his embrace, finally letting myself feel the full weight of what I've accomplished.

"You did it, little nexari," he murmurs into my hair. "You proved them all wrong."

I pull back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"Yes, you could've," he whispers, smiling slightly. "You're stronger than you realize."

I watch in awe as Sariel gently takes the artifact from my hands. His touch sends a shiver through me, a reminder of everything we've been through together. He murmurs a spell under his breath, his eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. The artifact rises into the air, hovering for a moment before dissolving into a shower of golden flakes that shimmer and dance in the air around us.

The crowd erupts into a deafening roar. My name echoes through the arena, chanted by hundreds of voices. I blink, trying to take it all in. Xaphan with their magnificent wings, humanswith hope shining in their eyes, and even creatures I've never seen before—they're all here, all cheering for me.

It doesn't feel real. Just moments ago, I was fighting for my life in that labyrinth, facing down my deepest fears and pushing my body to its absolute limits. Now, I'm standing here, basking in the adoration of the crowd. My legs feel weak, and I sway slightly, overwhelmed by it all.

Sariel's hand on my back steadies me, grounding me in this moment. I look up at him, grateful beyond words for his presence. His golden eyes meet mine and he nods.

As I stand there, alive and victorious with Sariel by my side, a wave of gratitude washes over me. I'm grateful for my life, for making it through the trials when so many others didn't. I'm grateful for Sariel, for his guidance and protection, even when it put him at risk. And I'm grateful for this moment, this impossible, beautiful moment.

The euphoria of proving them all wrong overwhelms me—all the xaphan who thought that humans were too weak or worthless to accomplish something of this magnitude. I want to laugh in their faces. I want to relish in their fury as I accept the pair of xaphan wings as my own.

Iearnedthis. And nobody can take that away from me.

25

SARIEL

Istand beside Raxis and Zephyr, my jaw clenched as I listen to Rahmiel and Nisroc discuss the outcome of the trials. Their voices grate on my nerves, each word fueling the anger burning in my chest.

"We can't allow this to stand," Rahmiel says, his purple eyes narrowed. "A human earning wings? It's unprecedented. No xaphan will accept this outcome."

Except me, you stupid piece of shit.

Nisroc nods, his short white hair catching the light. "Agreed. We need to find a way to invalidate the results. Perhaps we could claim there was outside interference?"

I bite my tongue, tasting blood. These fucking bastards. They're trying to rob Lyra of everything she's fought for, everything she's earned. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I have to force myself to breathe evenly.

"What about you, Sariel?" Zephyr's cool voice cuts through my thoughts. "You oversaw much of her training. Did you notice anything... irregular?"

I meet her gaze, keeping my face impassive. "No," I say, my voice low and controlled. "Nothing irregular. She completed the trials fairly."

Raxis snorts. "Come on, Sariel. We all know these trials weren't meant to be won. There must have been a mistake somewhere. Or perhaps you interfered somehow because you have a liking for the human?"

"Highly unlikely," I respond, even though my mind races with thoughts of Lyra.

I turn my gaze to the arena center, where Lyra stands on a floating platform. The crowd around her cheers, their voices a thunderous roar of approval. She looks small from this distance, but I can see the strength in her stance, the pride radiating from her.

My chest tightens. She did it. She actually fucking did it. And now these pompous assholes want to take it all away.

"Perhaps," Rahmiel muses, "we could claim that her final performance was enhanced by residual magic from the labyrinth. It would be easy enough to fabricate evidence."

I clench my jaw so hard I think my teeth might crack. The urge to lash out, to defend Lyra, burns through me like wildfire. But I know I have to play this smart. One wrong move and I could ruin everything.

I watch in barely contained fury as Nisroc's lips curl into a smug smile as he raises a finger.

"Technically," he drawls, "she didn't truly complete all the trials as it was intended. We can deny her the wings based on that technicality."

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