1. Lyra

1

LYRA

A s I stride down the alleyways, my ears pick up on the latest gossip. Usually, it's about who in town is seeing one another, but this time, I'm in for quite a shock.

"...you hear?"

"About the wing trials?"

"Yes! A new one opening up in New Solas."

My breath hitches in my throat. A new set of wing trials?

At first, I don't believe it. Until I hear more and more people talk about it.

For so long, I thought I would never have the chance to earn my wings. The wing trials come at random intervals, and it is the only way for a human to earn their wings. To become like a xaphan.

The last wing trials, they laughed at me when I tried to sign up. And I've never been able to shake off the shame that came with that.

But this changes everything.

Yara and Macy stand ahead of me, picking fruits from the bushes in lighthearted conversation. We're just outside of the village outskirts, foraging herbs and berries to take home to our families. I came here to try and do the same, but I'm more focused on their conversation.

I strain my ears, trying to catch every word they say while pretending to focus on the fruits in front of me. Reaching out, I take and observe a particularly ripe one in front of me, doing my best to feign indifference.

"Those wing trials sound awful." Yara's voice drops to a whisper. "The xaphan are trying to find all sorts of ways to humiliate us, I know it."

Macy hums. "Mhm. I figured that they'd stopped those for good, but for some reason, they're being opened up again. I hear there are three rounds this time." Macy holds up three fingers.

"But is it worth it? So many people have died trying to get their wings," Yara replies, shaking her head. "And these trials sound more dangerous than before."

My heart starts racing in my chest. I've dreamed of this moment for years, a chance to redeem myself and lift my family out of poverty. This might be my only chance to prove myself. To give my family a better life.

"Rosie's brother died during the last trials years ago, remember that? Poor thing has never been able to forget about it," Macy says, her voice trembling.

Yara nods solemnly. "That's not even the worst of it. Remember Kal? He was killed on his way into the trial. Never even made it to his room. And the xaphan didn't bat an eye about it."

My stomach churns. I remember Kal—always smiling, always helping others. And then he was left as a body by the door, a warning to the others.

Could I end up that way, too? If I went through with these trials?

"And they all gather to watch," Macy adds. "Like the trials aren't hard enough, they bet and cheer for people to die. It's so terrible!"

Yara sighs. "Wings can't be worth that."

I swallow hard, my hands shaking as I pluck another fruit from the bush. The dangers are real, terrifyingly so. But the possibility of earning my wings, of finally being respected in this world... It's intoxicating.

There's a chance that I can get my xaphan wings, a one-way ticket out of the poverty that I've always known. The trials sound tough, but… it's worth a try. Right?

"I wouldn't go near those trials if you paid me," Yara declares. "It's not worth dying for."

Macy nods in agreement. "Me neither. I'd rather live without wings than not live at all."

Their words should scare me, should make me reconsider. But instead, I feel a fire igniting in my chest. I've lived in shame and poverty for too long. I've seen the despair in my parents' eyes, felt the sting of their disappointment.

This is my chance. My only chance.

I take a deep breath, steeling my resolve. The trials will be dangerous, possibly deadly. But I've got nothing left to lose.

I'm going to do it. I'm going to earn my wings or die trying.

Clutching my basket of fruit, I turn away and return to our village, made up of crudely constructed homes and gardens that supply us with vegetables year-round. I smile and wave at the many neighbors I pass, like Maggie and Katrina and little Marcus who runs away with a wooden toy his father made for him.

In this village, we don't have much, but we make do with what we can. But I've always had ambitions for so much more. All my life, I've had to watch the xaphan live lavishly while my people have survived on crumbs.

When will the tides change? Will they ever?

Sucking in a deep breath, I enter my small home, where my mother cooks a stew over the fire and my father fixes the holes in his worn clothes with a needle and thread. I set my basket on the table and clear my throat, catching their attention.

"Back so soon, Lyra?" my mother asks, wiping her hands on her stained apron. "You remembered to pick the ripest fruits for your father, right? He's been working all day."

I nod, pressing my lips into a thin line. It takes everything within me to blurt out the words on my tongue, but I go for it.

"Mom, Dad, I have something important to tell you."

They both look up, my father's needle pausing mid-stitch.

"There's... there's going to be new wing trials soon," I say, wringing my hands together. "They're giving us another chance to earn xaphan wings."

The silence that follows is deafening. My mother's spoon clatters against the pot, and my father's face darkens.

"Lyra," he growls. "Don't you dare think about it."

"But Dad, I?—"

"No!" He slams his fist on the table, making me flinch. "We won't go through that humiliation again. Do you have any idea what you put us through last time?"

My mother joins in, her voice sharp. "We were the laughingstock of the entire village. Everyone pitied us for having such a failure for a daughter."

Their words cut deep, reopening old wounds. I struggle to keep my voice steady. "I-I know I failed before, but I've grown stronger. This time will be different, I promise."

"Different?" My father scoffs. "The only thing different will be how much deeper you drag our family name through the mud."

"Your father's right," my mother adds. "We had such high hopes for you, Lyra. And you crushed them all."

I feel tears pricking at my eyes, but I blink them back. "I can do this. I'll make you proud this time."

"Proud?" My father stands up, towering over me. "You've already shown us what you're capable of. Nothing. You're weak, Lyra. Always have been."

"We expected so much more from you," my mother remarks, stirring her stew with a hand resting on her hip. "Now look at us. Barely scraping by while you chase impossible dreams."

Swallowing down the knot in my throat, I blink away the tears and hurry out of my home. I don't stop until I'm farther away, taking refuge in Helen's garden that grows fresh vegetables and herbs. The aromatic smells calm me down for a moment, giving me a chance to get my wits together.

"They're wrong about me," I whisper, wiping away some tears that have managed to spill out. "They don't know what they're talking about."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against one of Helen's trellises. My parents' words still sting, but I can't let them hold me back. They're just scared. Scared of being humiliated again. But I won't fail this time. I can't.

"I'll show them," I mutter, clenching my fists. "I'll show everyone."

I scan the garden, making sure I'm alone. Helen's usually busy at the communal kitchen this time of day, so I should have some privacy for a while. Perfect.

I start with push-ups, my arms trembling as I lower myself to the ground.

One, two, three...

My muscles burn, but I keep going.

Ten, eleven, twelve...

I collapse on the fifteenth, panting while the burn stretches up my arms.

"Not good enough," I growl, pushing myself back up.

I move on to squats, then lunges. My legs feel like jelly, but I force myself to keep going. I've got to get stronger if I want to survive the trials. Focusing on my past failures, I remind myself of where I went wrong. I gave up too quickly. I was too weak.

That won't be the case this time around. Not if I can help it.

Next, I focus on my core. Planks, crunches, leg raises. My abdomen screams in protest, but I grit my teeth and push through the pain. If I don't push myself, I won't get stronger.

As I work out, I run through mental exercises in my head. Puzzles, riddles, anything to keep my mind sharp. I can't let the xaphan outsmart me, and they like to play dirty with their tricks. Anything they shoot my way, I'll be ready for it.

The day rolls into evening, and the skies above start turning darker and darker. During one of my breaks, I roll onto my back, staring up at the evening sky. In my mind, I imagine xaphan soaring overhead, their wings glinting in the sunlight. Mocking us humans who could only dream of having a pair of wings to call our own.

Soon. Soon I'll be up there with them.

That imagery only spurs me on. I force myself to my feet, ignoring the protests of my aching muscles. There's no time to rest. I've got to be ready for whatever the trials throw at me.

Eventually, Helen returns home; I can tell by the way her front porch creaks under her weight and how the doors slam close inside her home. I duck under a bush and make a hasty escape out of her garden, silently thanking her for giving me a place to train.

If I want to win those trials, I'll need to be consistent with this. The cogs in my mind spin, thinking of ways to disappear from my parents' sight so that I can work on building muscle and endurance.

This is just the beginning, I understand that. I've got a long, rocky way to go, but I'm on the right path. I'll win these trials, no matter the cost. I have to.