Page 10 of Wings of Strife
I get changed into my flight clothes in record time, ignoring the other students like I usually do. Not because I’m rude or antisocial, but I get into far less trouble if I stick to myself and keep quiet.
The mid-morning air feels cool against my heated skin as I step into the arena to join the other students who have already changed. As I approach the block of bleachers we usually sit at for class, everyone grows silent. Fucking great. What the hell is it this time?
Instead of worrying about it, I ignore the gawking, find my seat, and look around. The arena has a different setup today that looks oddly familiar. When Theo, Raphael, and I were at the park for the Archangel’s Feast, they had some sort ofcompetition. I remember because there’d been a family arguing about it. Not that I stood around witnessing it, and maybe I should have. A leg up would be nice right about now.
True. But if I stayed, I wouldn’t have gotten to visit Remiel’s prayer tent.Whatever the outcome today, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about that day. It was worth it ten times over.
Professor Uriel steps up, and the class falls silent.
“Today we’ll be working on flying maneuvers. You may have noticed the setup behind me. I suggest you study it. We will begin today’s class with a demonstration from me on how to complete the obstacle course, and then everyone will have the chance to try it. I will time each of you so I can track your progress over the next few weeks. I expect all students to have their wings out for the duration of class.” His sharp eyes train on me as he finishes, and I wonder if maybe I should have skipped class.
The number of fucks I give today are terrifyingly low. Something that will probably get me in trouble if I’m not careful.
All around me, students let their wings free until I’m surrounded by a healthy mix of black and white wings. Anxiety spikes, restricting my lungs, but I take deep breaths to calm myself. I wish I had at least one trusted friend in this fucking class. Maybe then I could put my wing jacket on and at least blend in a little.
Once my heart is back to a normal rhythm, I take a deep breath and let my wings escape. I keep them tight to my back, not allowing them to expand, even though the motion is uncomfortable. Yet despite my best efforts and the clouds above, they still sparkle enough to pull the attention of my classmates.
Professor Uriel steps up to the starting line and turns to speak. “Pay attention to my movements. Watch how I weave for optimal speed.”
He presses a button along the side before moving into a half-crouched position. The sound of a shot goes off, and then he moves. He’s fast, his white wings almost a blur as he flies down the track at breakneck speeds, taking sharp corners with the grace of a practiced warrior.
I don’twantto be impressed, but damn. The asshole is fast.
When he gets to the finish line, it doesn’t feel like I know the obstacle course any better. Maybe if he had taken it slow, explained his tactics, I would have been able to follow along and learn. From the stunned silence around me, I doubt it’s just me who feels that way.
Professor Uriel peers up at the clock, smirking at his time. When he turns, damn near preening under the sounds of the fawning students, our gazes lock and his eyes narrow in a way that sets me on edge. He looks down at his slate, reading off a few names, but I drown him out.
Until he says mine.
My legs move without my consent, and before I realize it, I’m standing at the starting line with three other students. The only familiar one is Marina, a Pure angel I’ve spoken to a few times, though I wouldn’t exactly say we’re friends. The other two are Fallen, and while their features are familiar, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to them.
We get into our starting positions, and Professor Uriel presses the button to begin the countdown.
Strategy races through my mind. I’m better off taking my time, learning the obstacles first before trying to blow through them at top speed. And, if that keeps me out of the limelight, all the better.
Boom.
The starting shot rings loud, and suddenly we’re all moving. It’s a straight line at first, and I hold back as the others pick upspeed, getting closer and closer to the ninety-degree turn at the end.
Around the bend is a series of strategically placed walls followed by another sharp turn at the end, but I don’t have time to worry about what’s beyond that because I’m at the first turn.
I let everything fall away until it’s only me and this damn course. Avoiding the walls is easy, and at my slow pace, so are the turns. When I reach the last stretch, I swallow hard. There are only a few narrow pathways to fly, and each one has machines that close up and crush whatever’s between them.
Speed will be important here.
My heart slams against the cage of my chest as I plan the best route. Everyone else has already made it to the finish line, but I don’t let that bother me. Not when I’m trying to figure out how to avoid getting flattened. Metal clashes on metal as the machines open and close in a steady rhythm, and I let it move through me until it feels as though it and my heartbeat are in synchronization.
With one big inhale, I advance toward the last obstacle. My palms are sweaty as my wings hurdle me through the first machine without issue. The next one is off to the left, so I pivot, but I push too hard and now I’m not lined up with the machine. It takes a few seconds to get myself in position, but I eventually make it through that one, too. Only one more left.
The distance between the hurdles isn’t much, not enough to pick up the pace, and the machine opens and closes at a different rate than the first two. If I time this incorrectly, I’ll shatter my wings. How is this even allowed? Angels are bound to get hurt, their wings destroyed.
Did the university sanction this? It wouldn’t surprise me if this was something Professor Uriel chose just to watch his students suffer.
My limbs grow shaky as fear wells up inside me, but I push it down, tucking it away into a box in my mind and closing the lid. I can do this. With a final burst of speed and two immense flaps of my wings, I’m flying toward it. Metal clashes from behind me, and I know I only have seconds to make it through this machine or else I’m a goner. But the distance is too great.
This machine is longer than the others, and I don’t have time to get out.
As if in slow motion, the machine walls close around me and it feels as though I might suffocate.
