Page 10 of Court of Twisted Angels

"Is that a threat?" Lightning crackles between his fingers, the air charging with static. "Your family's fall from grace must have addled your mind if you think you can challenge me."

"Challenge implies equal standing." I summon a cold wind that whips through the corridor, scattering loose papers andextinguishing the wall sconces. "We both know you're beneath me."

His wings flare wide, golden feathers bristling. "Beneath you? Your wings are starting to look a little gray now, Azrael. The curse eating away at your power is visible for all to see."

"Yet here I stand, while you skulk through halls hunting like a common thief." My own wings unfurl, and resist the urge to look, to see if they really do look gray. "Tell me, does it pain you to know that even cursed, I'm still more powerful than you'll ever be?"

"We'll see about that." The lightning dancing across his skin intensifies, casting his face in harsh blue light. "Only one of us will claim the prize. And once I find it, I'll ensure your family's legacy ends in the dust where it belongs."

The temperature plummets as frost spreads across the marble beneath my feet. "Make another threat against my family, Theron, and you'll discover exactly how much power I have left."

The crackle of our combined powers draws whispers from around the corner. A group of lesser xaphans peer at our standoff, their wings rustling nervously.

"Your posturing has drawn an audience." I force my wings to fold back, though ice still coats my fingertips. "How fitting for someone who values appearance over substance."

Theron's lightning dims, but his smirk widens. "Speaking of substance..." He pulls a worn piece of parchment from his jacket. "While you waste time with threats, I've been making actual progress."

The paper catches the remaining torchlight, revealing the edge of an ancient map. My heart pounds against my ribs as I recognize the distinctive markings of pre-war cartography.

"Too bad you don't know where to look." He traces a finger along faded lines. "One of your precious gems lies buried intomorrow's initiation. I wonder how long until the trials claim what's left of your bloodline?"

The watching crowd grows larger. A Praexa's golden wardrobe glints at the far end of the hall. Getting caught fighting again would jeopardize everything.

"The trails hold more dangers than just the traps set, Theron." I step back, letting shadows mask my expression. "Hope you've learned to watch your back."

"Unlike your family, I don't need to hide in darkness." He tucks the map away with a flourish. "The gems will be mine before these trials are even over. Perhaps I'll send you a sketch of it, something to remember it by when your body turns to ash."

The Praexa's footsteps grow closer. I retreat further into the shadows, my mind already racing with plans. I need a way to get into the trials themselves, a way to find the gems without drawing too much attention. I don't need the whole arena watching and laughing at me when I dive in among the humans - so I'll need another plan.

"Your theatrics bore me." I turn away, my voice carrying just enough for him to hear. "Enjoy your chase with the humans."

But as I stride down the darkened corridor, my hands clench into fists. He's given me exactly what I need - and exactly what I fear. The race for the gems has truly begun, and time grows shorter with each passing moment.

I slip through a hidden archway into one of the arena's abandoned training alcoves. Ancient tapestries line crumbling stone walls, their once-vibrant threads now faded to ghostly echoes of battles long past. My wings brush against cold granite as I pace the confined space.

Theron's map changes everything. The smug bastard might be lying, but I can't take that chance. Not with my family's lives hanging by a thread.

A gust of wind sweeps through gaps in the stonework, making the tapestries dance. I channel a spark of power, conjuring a small flame in my palm. The light reveals intricate etchings carved into the floor - old ward symbols from when this space served as a meditation chamber for warrior-priests.

"Think." I extinguish the flame, dragging fingers through my hair. But I have nothing, and I know that it would be better for me to go home before someone catches me here, looking more distraught than I'd want them to see.

My wings ache as I fold them tight against my back, the curse's corruption spreading another inch along the feathers. I refuse to acknowledge that they may be looking less than pristine.

I press my palm against the wall as I start toward the exit of the arena, feeling the pulse of ancient magic flowing through the city's foundations. Somewhere in this labyrinth of stone and secrets lies the key to saving my bloodline. I've played the dutiful trainer long enough - it's time to use this position for its true purpose.

The twin moons cast silvery light across New Solas' golden spires as I slip out of the arena and into the upper district. My boots click against the polished stone pathways between towering marble buildings. Crystalline lanterns flicker to life as darkness descends, their enchanted flames casting dancing shadows across ornate archways.

A cool breeze carries the scent of night-blooming jasmine from hanging gardens above. My wings twitch with the urge to take flight, to soar above the city's gleaming domes, but I force them still. I don't know what kind of strain flying would put on them.

The street curves past an open courtyard where a fountain sparkles, its waters enchanted to flow upward in defiant streams. It makes auburn hair and fierce green eyes flashthrough my mind. Kyrie. I'm curious to see what kind of strength lays behind that calm exterior.

"Focus," I mutter, shaking my head.

The girl is merely a means to an end - if she even makes it past tomorrow. The fact that her fierce spirit stirs something in me is irrelevant. I'll need to use her eventually and that's the only reason I approached her tonight.

A zarryn-drawn carriage clatters past, its ethereal steeds' hooves striking sparks against the cobblestones. The wealthy passengers inside pay no attention to a lone xaphan walking home in the growing dark.

My family's mansion lies ahead, its once-proud spires now dulled by neglect. Vines creep up the weathered walls, their leaves tinged with unnatural black - another sign of the curse's spread.

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