Page 50 of Court of Twisted Angels

I step forward, unfurling my wings to their full span. The dark feathers cast shadows across his desk. "I'll vouch for her status. Or shall we summon Praexa Malivar to confirm?"

The clerk's face pales. "That won't be necessary, Lord Azrael." His hands shake as he reaches for a crystal bell, ringing it three times. "The medicine will be prepared immediately."

As we wait, a noble woman enters, her pure white wings marking her high status. She starts to sweep past Kyrie, then freezes mid-step. The conflict plays across her features - the instinct to dismiss a human warring with the sight of those wings.

"Welcome," she finally manages, the words clearly bitter on her tongue.

Kyrie inclines her head, just slightly. "Thank you."

The clerk returns with a wooden box inlaid with healing runes. "The prescribed duration is marked on each vial. You'll need to file renewal forms with the Central Registry-"

"I've already submitted them." I place a sealed document on his desk. "Approved by the Western District Council."

His mouth opens, then closes. The power of my family's name still carries weight, curse or no curse.

"Of course, my lord." He stamps the box with an enchanted seal. "Everything appears to be in order."

Outside, golden light streams through enchanted archways that span between buildings. A group of young xaphan initiates whisper and point at Kyrie's wings, their expressions a mix of awe and uncertainty. The old order is changing, one small crack at a time.

Kyrie cradles the wooden box against her chest, her fingers tracing the healing runes carved into its surface. The magic pulses beneath her touch, soft blue light seeping between her fingers. Her wings quiver - a telltale sign of emotion she hasn't yet learned to control.

Through our bond, her relief floods my senses. Pure, overwhelming joy tinged with desperate hope. The feeling catches in my throat, unfamiliar and raw. Her emotions have away of slipping past my carefully constructed walls, settling into spaces I thought long frozen.

"We should check the seals," I say, leading her to a quiet alcove away from the market's bustle. Stone archways decorated with twisting vines of enchanted silver provide shelter from prying eyes.

She opens the box with reverent care. Inside, nestled in crushed velvet, twelve crystal vials gleam with swirling amber liquid. Each one represents a month of life for her mother - precious time bought with blood and determination.

"The magic's pure." I run my fingers over the nearest vial, testing its potency. "Strong healing properties, properly balanced with stabilizing elements."

Kyrie lifts one, holding it up to catch the light filtering through the enchanted vines above. The liquid inside spirals and dances, responding to her presence. Even without magic of her own, she has an innate understanding of its flow that still surprises me.

Her gratitude pulses through our bond again, stronger this time. It spreads like warmth through my chest, melting ice I didn't realize had formed. These human emotions - so intense, so unguarded - should repulse me. Instead, I find myself drawing closer, letting her joy chase away the shadows of my family's curse.

"Little bird." My voice comes out rougher than intended. "You earned this. Every drop."

She closes the box, securing its magical locks with practiced ease. Her wings brush against mine - an unconscious gesture of trust that sends a shiver down my spine. The feathers shimmer a soft blue in the dappled light, a constant reminder of how far she's come.

I watch as Kyrie secures the medicine box in her leather satchel, her movements precise and deliberate. The marketplacehums around us, but my focus remains fixed on the graceful arc of her wings - wings I once thought she'd never earn. Wings that changed everything.

Our first meeting floods back - her fierce defiance as she stood before me in the trials arena, refusing to back down when I snarled at her. I'd seen her as nothing more than another human seeking glory, destined to fail like all the others. How wrong I'd been.

Through each trial, she'd proven herself. Not with raw power or magical talent, but with an instinct for survival that bordered on supernatural. Where others tried to match the xaphan's might, she'd adapted, using the very magic meant to destroy her as a tool for advancement.

The bond between us formed slowly, reluctantly - like ice melting under persistent sunlight. Each shared moment, each secret revealed, each brush of wings against wings had carved away at the walls I'd built around myself. The curse that plagues my bloodline should have driven me to maintain that distance. Instead, her unwavering spirit drew me closer.

Now our souls intertwine in ways that defy the natural order. I feel her joy, her fear, her determination as if they were my own. The magic that flows through my veins resonates with her presence, stronger and clearer than any connection I've known.

"The zarryn should be ready at the western gates," I say, offering my arm as we navigate through the thinning crowd. Her hand settles in the crook of my elbow, a familiar weight that grounds me. "The journey to your village will take three days, following the coast."

Magic swirls around us - in the enchanted lanterns that line the streets, in the protective wards that shimmer like gossamer curtains between buildings, in the very air we breathe. Yet nothing compares to the raw power of our bond, a force that transcends the ancient barriers between our races.

Her fingers tighten slightly on my arm as we pass beneath an archway of living crystal, its surface rippling with stored spells. Even now, after everything, parts of New Solas still fill her with wonder.

29

KYRIE

The cobblestones beneath my feet have worn smoother since I left, or perhaps my stride has changed. Lantern flames dance in brass fixtures along the narrow street, their magical glow casting long shadows across weathered buildings. The vial of medicine weighs heavy in my pocket, its contents gleaming with an iridescent sheen.

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