Angel of Ruin

16. Lyra

16

LYRA

I lie still, my body pressed against Sariel's, listening to his breathing slow and deepen. Once I'm sure he's asleep, I carefully extricate myself from his arms and slip out of bed. My muscles ache as I move, a reminder of our passionate encounter.

Silently, I gather my clothes and dress, my eyes never leaving Sariel's sleeping form. He looks almost peaceful, his usually stern face relaxed in slumber. I push away the confusing mix of emotions threatening to overwhelm me and focus on getting back to my room unnoticed.

I crack open the door, peering into the dimly lit hallway. Seeing it's clear, I step out and gently close the door behind me. As I turn to leave, voices drift from around the corner. I freeze, recognizing the cold, clipped tones of the xaphan overseers.

"The humans are progressing further than anticipated," one says, frustration evident in his voice.

"Relax, Raxis," another responds, sounding amused. "You know as well as I do that none of them will actually succeed."

I press myself against the wall, straining to hear more.

"Of course not," Raxis scoffs. "But the whole point of these trials is entertainment. If we kill them all too quickly, where's the fun in that?"

"True," the other agrees. "The demons are already placing bets on which humans will die next. We can't disappoint those bloodthirsty bastards, can we?"

My blood runs cold as I listen, their cruel laughter echoing in the empty corridor.

"Remember," a third voice, a woman, chimes in, "our orders were clear. We need to let at least some of them think they have a chance, right up until the final trial. Then we crush their hopes in the most spectacular way possible."

"Ah yes, the grand finale," Raxis chuckles. "I almost feel sorry for the poor fools. Almost."

"They're just humans," the second voice dismisses. "Playthings for our amusement. Better they die here, providing us with entertainment, than continue their miserable lives in poverty."

I clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. Everything I've been working for, everything I've sacrificed – it's all been for nothing. The trials were never meant to give us wings. We're just pawns in their cruel game.

I can't win. I can't even fail…

My only option is death.

As their voices fade, I slump against the wall, my mind reeling from what I've just heard. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I blink them back furiously. I can't afford to break down here, not where I might be discovered.

I stumble back to my room in a daze, my mind racing with the terrible truth I've just uncovered. The trials, our only hope for a better life, are nothing but a cruel joke. We're being set up to fail, to die for the entertainment of the xaphan and demons.

As I collapse onto my bed, a new, horrifying thought strikes me. Sariel. Is he part of this? Has he known all along that we never stood a chance?

I think back to our encounters, the way he's pushed me harder than any other candidate. Was that really to prepare me, or was he just prolonging my suffering for his own amusement? The memory of his touch, still fresh on my skin, makes me feel sick.

But then I remember the look in his eyes when he saved me from falling, the gentleness in his touch that seemed at odds with his usual demeanor. Could he really be that good of an actor?

How many times do I have to ask myself the same questions?

I bury my face in my pillow, torn between my growing feelings for Sariel and my loyalty to my fellow humans. If he is involved in this deception, how can I possibly trust him? Or could he possibly be trying to actually help me?

I accused him earlier of the trials sabotaging us, but I never thought that the option of earning my wings — of surviving all of this — was fake, too.

That everyone here was using me until I have nothing left to give…

I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling as I weigh my options. Should I warn the other candidates? But would they even believe me? And if they did, what could we possibly do against the xaphan?

We couldn't leave. That would ruin their fun. And I know they wouldn't take kindly to that…

Besides, if I do tell the other candidates, it will be the last push they all need to revolt. Things have already been tense, and the last thing we need is the xaphan to change tactics and dump us in the arena to get brutally murdered when they decide we aren't worth enough to keep up with this facade.

But the thought of continuing with the trials, knowing what I know now, makes my stomach churn. But what choice do I have? There's no way out.

And some foolish part of me wants to prove them wrong, to show them that I can win. They can't stop me.

As the first light of dawn creeps through my window, I make a decision. I can't give up, not yet. With a heavy heart, I push myself out of bed, preparing to face another day of deception and danger. But this time, I'll be the one with a secret.

I drag myself to training, my body aching from last night's encounter with Sariel and my mind reeling from the overheard conversation. As I enter the training grounds, something feels off. I can't quite put my finger on it, but there's a subtle shift in the atmosphere.

The first thing I notice is the new obstacle course. It looks similar to the previous one, but as I watch my fellow candidates attempt it, I see the differences. The handholds are slightly further apart, requiring more strain on already tired muscles. The ropes seem thinner, harder to grip. Even the ground beneath our feet feels less stable, as if designed to throw us off balance.

"Come on, move it!" Raxis barks, his voice grating on my nerves. I flinch, remembering his cruel words from last night. As I approach the course, I notice him eyeing me with a smirk that sends chills down my spine.

The magical training stations have changed too. The bracelets we use to channel xaphan energy seem to respond slower, requiring more effort to draw out even the simplest spells. I watch as Lena struggles to create a ball of light - a task she'd mastered days ago.

"Having trouble?" Sariel's voice startles me. I turn to find him standing closer than I expected, his golden eyes unreadable.

For a moment, I'm tempted to confront him, to demand answers about what I overheard. But the memory of his touch, the warmth of his body against mine, makes me hesitate.

I don't know how to act around him. But as usual, he seems to have sunk into the role of asshole xaphan no problem, like I mean nothing to him.

Maybe I truly don't.

"No," I lie, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "Just observing."

He nods, his expression neutral. "Good. You'll need to be at your best for today's exercises."

As he walks away, I find myself analyzing every word, every gesture. Is he trying to help me, or setting me up for failure like the others?

I move through the training stations, my senses on high alert. Every instruction from the xaphan overseers now seems loaded with hidden meaning. Are they purposely giving us misleading advice? I watch my fellow candidates, wondering if any of them suspect what I know.

Even the water provided during breaks tastes off, leaving me more parched than refreshed. Is it my paranoia, or have they done something to weaken us further?

As the day wears on, I notice more candidates struggling, their movements becoming sluggish, their spirits visibly dampened. I want to warn them, to tell them it's all a lie, but the words stick in my throat. Who can I trust? Who would even believe me?

Sariel approaches me as I'm finishing up at one of the magical training stations. "Lyra," he calls, his voice softer than usual. "Come with me. We're doing some one-on-one training."

I follow him to a secluded area of the training grounds, my guard up. As we start warming up, I notice his demeanor is different. His usual sharp edges seem dulled.

"You're looking better today," he comments, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Sleep well?"

I narrow my eyes, searching for the trap in his words. "Fine," I reply curtly.

He raises an eyebrow. "Just fine? I thought you'd be more... satisfied after last night."

My cheeks burn, but I refuse to take the bait. "Can we just get on with the training?"

Sariel's golden eyes study me, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "Alright, if that's how you want to play it. Let's work on your defensive stance."

As he guides me through the motions, his touch is gentler than before. His voice lacks its usual bite as he offers pointers and corrections. But with each word, each gesture, I find myself analyzing everything.

Is this genuine? Or just another layer of deception?

When he cracks a joke about my form, I don't laugh. When he offers praise for a well-executed move, I don't acknowledge it. I keep my responses short and to the point, focusing solely on the task at hand.

I can see frustration building in the set of his jaw, the tightening around his eyes. Good. Let him feel a fraction of the turmoil I'm experiencing.

Finally, Sariel stops mid-sentence, his earlier lightness evaporating. "What's going on with you today?" he demands, irritation clear in his voice.

I meet his gaze steadily. "Nothing. I'm here to train, not chat."

His eyes narrow, and for a moment, I see a flash of the cold, ruthless xaphan I first met. "Fine," he growls. "If that's how you want it, let's spar. No holds barred."

Without warning, he lunges at me, and I barely manage to dodge. As we trade blows, I push away all thoughts of last night, of overheard conversations, of betrayal. I focus solely on the fight, on surviving.

But I'm not sure I can even do that anymore.