Page 52 of Angel of Ruin

"He's right!" someone shouts from behind me, their voice cutting through the chaos. "We all saw her complete the trials! Every single one of them!"

"But the rules—" another voice argues, sounding desperate and uncertain.

"Fuck the rules!" comes a passionate reply, so fierce it makes me flinch. "They've been cheating us from the start! We all know it!"

The crowd's energy shifts, becoming more volatile by the second.

"We've always known it was rigged," a woman hisses nearby, her words dripping with pent-up resentment.

"Can't trust the xaphan," another man growls. "Never could, never will."

"She doesn't deserve wings!" someone else shrieks, their voice full of venom. I wince, feeling the sting of their words even though I know I've earned this.

The crowd surges, pushing and shoving below me. The air feels thick, heavy with anger and desperation. I've never seen anything like this before, and it terrifies me.

My palms are slick with sweat, and I clench my fists to stop them from shaking. This is spiraling out of control fast. I never wanted to cause a riot or challenge the entire xaphan system. I just wanted my wings, to prove myself worthy.

I glance up at Sariel, still facing off against Rahmiel on the platform. His jaw is set, eyes blazing. For a moment, he glances at me and our gazes lock. I see a flicker of concern pass over his face.

Suddenly, a scuffle breaks out near the front of the crowd. Two humans are shoving each other, their argument having turned physical. A ripple of unease passes through the onlookers, and I can sense the situation balancing on a knife's edge.

If this escalates any further, there's no telling what the xaphan will do to regain control. My chance at wings—everyone's chance—could disappear in an instant.

I take a deep breath, realizing that if I don't act now, everything I've fought for could slip away. My voice cuts through the chaos, surprisingly strong and clear.

"Enough!"

The crowd's roar dies down quickly, and all eyes turn to me. I swallow hard, feeling the weight of their stares.

"Please," I continue, my voice softer but still carrying across the arena. "This isn't what any of us want. We came here to prove ourselves, not to start a riot."

I turn to face Rahmiel and Nisroc, my body shaking but my resolve firm.

"Honored leaders, I beg you to reconsider. I got injured during the second trial, but that was entirely out of my control. I still completed the trials, though. I did what was asked of me. My journey through these trials wasn't just about earning wings. It was about proving that humans and xaphan can coexist, that we can rise to your challenges and meet them fairly."

I pause, gathering my thoughts. After taking a moment to think, I nod slightly. I know what I want to say.

"I've poured every ounce of my being into these trials. I've faced obstacles I never thought possible, pushed myself beyond my limits, and emerged stronger for it. Isn't that what these trials are meant to do?"

My voice grows passionate as I continue.

"I understand the rules are important, but sometimes extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures. The challenges I faced were unlike any other, and yet I persevered. Doesn't that show the kind of determination and spirit you're looking for in those who earn their wings?"

I look around at the crowd, then back to the xaphan leaders.

"By granting me my wings, you're not just rewarding one person. You're showing everyone here that the system works, that it's fair, and that true dedication and hard work can lead to success."

I take a step forward, my voice softening.

"Please, consider what my journey represents. It's a testament to the power of your trials, to the potential within humans, and to the possibility of unity between our peoples. I've earned these wings not just through my actions, but through the very spirit these trials were designed to foster."

I hold my breath as Rahmiel's face contorts, his internal struggle visible for all to see. The tension in the air is thick enough to feel, sending shivers down my spine. I can feel the crowd's restlessness growing with each passing second. My heart pounds in my chest, hope and fear battling for dominance.

Finally, Rahmiel's shoulders slump in defeat. He raises a hand, silencing the murmurs that have begun to ripple through the crowd yet again. My heart skips a beat as I watch him, hardly daring to breathe.

Will he hear me out? Or will he risk chaos brewing over?

"Very well," he says, his voice tight with barely contained frustration. "In light of... exceptional circumstances, we will grant Lyra her wings."

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