Page 49 of Court of Twisted Angels

"I can't—" The words catch in my throat as fresh agony rips through me.

"You can." Azrael's fingers intertwine with mine, his own magic flowing into me through the connection. It mingles with the ceremonial power, cool and controlled against the wild surge of transformation magic. "Remember why you're here."

Mother's face flashes through my mind, giving me strength. The magical vortex spins faster, the runes burning brighter until they're almost blinding. Something shifts beneath my skin – a terrible tearing sensation followed by a burst of pure energy that arcs through my entire body.

My back splits open. I scream as new limbs push through, unfurling like flowers blooming in fast motion. The sensation is foreign, terrifying, exhilarating – having parts of me that never existed before suddenly spring into being. Feathers materialize from pure magic, each one sending a fresh shock of sensation through my transformed nervous system.

The wings spread wide, responding to instincts I didn't know I possessed. They're massive, spanning at least twelve feet, their feathers a deep iridescent blue that shifts to purple in the light. Power courses through them, different from anything I've felt before – wild and free and completely natural, as though they've been part of me all along.

I gasp as new awareness floods my senses. I can feel air currents I never noticed before, understand wind patterns on an instinctive level. The magic settles into my changed body, no longer fighting against mortal limitations but flowing freely through enhanced channels.

The vortex of magic slowly dissipates, leaving the temple in hushed silence. My new wings quiver with each breath, sending ripples of sensation through unfamiliar muscles. Azrael's hand remains steady in mine as the Praexa step forward, their golden wings casting ethereal shadows across the marble floor.

"Rise, Kyrie Kael," the center Praexa commands. "Show your gift from Solas to the assembly."

I straighten, my legs trembling but holding. The wings respond to my thoughts, spreading wide in a smooth motion that feels as natural as breathing. Gasps echo through the temple as light catches the feathers – pure white like fresh snow, each one tipped with gold that seems to glow from within. They're smaller than Azrael's but perfectly proportioned to my frame, the feathers arranged in precise layers that ripple with every minute movement.

Magic still courses through them, making the golden tips shimmer and dance. When I flex them experimentally, they catch the light from the floating orbs and scatter it in prismatic patterns across the temple walls. Each feather feels like an extension of my nervous system, sensitive to the slightest change in air pressure.

"Magnificent," Azrael murmurs, his ice-blue eyes fixed on my wings. His fingers trace one of the golden-tipped feathers, sending a shiver down my spine. "They suit you, little bird."

The Praexa raise their hands in unison, and pure light washes over my wings. It seeps into the feathers, binding the transformation permanently to my soul. The sensation is likewarm honey flowing through my veins, settling into every new muscle and bone.

My wings arch higher, responding to the surge of power. The gold tips blaze brighter, and for a moment I can feel every current of air in the temple, every eddy and flow of wind between the crystal columns. The awareness is intoxicating – no wonder the xaphan move with such grace and confidence. They're connected to the very air itself.

28

AZRAEL

The market district bustles with its usual morning chaos - merchants hawking their wares, the clip-clop of zarryn hooves on cobblestone, the shimmer of magic dancing between vendor stalls.

I keep a few paces behind Kyrie as she weaves through the crowd, her newly earned wings catching the golden sunlight. The iridescent feathers shift from blue to lilac with each graceful movement.

"Watch where you're going, human-" A merchant starts to snarl, then stops abruptly as Kyrie's wings come into view. His scowl transforms into a deferential nod. "My apologies, my lady."

A smirk tugs at my lips. Little bird's learning to spread her wings.

She navigates the twisting alleyways with growing assurance, her steps light and purposeful. The transformation from the hesitant human who first entered New Solas to this confident figure before me is striking. Xaphans who would have sneered at her mere weeks ago now step aside, some even offering respectful bows.

"The apothecary should be just ahead." Kyrie pauses at an intersection, her wings rustling softly. "Past the fountain with the crystal thaliverns."

Magic streams from the fountain in gossamer ribbons, taking the form of translucent thaliverns that dance through the air. Their wings catch the light, sending rainbow prisms skittering across the white stone buildings.

"You're drawing quite the audience," I murmur as we pass a group of young xaphan nobles. Their whispers follow us, a mix of curiosity and admiration.

"Let them look." Kyrie's chin lifts slightly. "I earned these wings."

The pride in her voice stirs something in my chest. She has more than earned them - fought for them, bled for them. The memory of her determination during the trials still burns bright.

We reach the apothecary, its windows filled with bottles of swirling, luminescent potions. Crystal chimes sing softly in the breeze, their notes carrying hints of healing magic. Kyrie pushes open the door, the confidence in her stride never wavering.

Inside the apothecary, shelves stretch toward vaulted ceilings, filled with glass vials that pulse with magical essence. The clerk - a thin-faced xaphan with dove-gray wings - barely glances up from his ledger.

"Documentation?" His quill scratches against parchment.

Kyrie produces the scroll bearing her trial certification. The clerk's eyes widen at the gold seal, then narrow as he takes in her human features.

"This requires additional verification from-"

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