18. Sariel

18

SARIEL

I stand on the elevated platform, surveying the final trial arena spread out before me. The vast, enclosed space stretches as far as the eye can see, filled with a dizzying array of floating platforms and obstacles. My wings twitch with anticipation, a mix of dread and excitement coursing through me.

The arena is a masterpiece of xaphan magic. Translucent barriers shimmer in the air, creating invisible pathways and dead ends. Floating islands of various sizes hover at different heights, some solid and stable, others wavering and insubstantial.

And everything is at the whim of the overseers.

I focus on a cluster of platforms to my left, knowing they house one of the many death traps. From here, it looks like a clear path forward. But when a human steps onto it, the illusion will shatter, the air pierced with spikes and deadly obstacles they will have to navigate through.

My eyes trace the true path through the arena, barely visible even to my enhanced senses. It weaves through a series of optical illusions designed to confuse and disorient. Distances will stretch and contract, directions will shift, and the very ground beneath their feet will seem to move.

In the center of the arena, a massive, swirling vortex of energy pulses. As the humans approach it, it will project their deepest fears and most cherished loved ones. I've seen hardened warriors break down in tears, unable to distinguish reality from illusion.

The humans will be given phantom wings again to work through a series of complex illusions and puzzles to get to the end without dying. The entire arena is another aerial trap, the illusions giving them false paths that lead to death traps, that change distances and directions, or apparitions of loved ones or fears. Anything to stop the humans from finishing.

I clench my fists, knowing what awaits the human candidates. The impossibility of their task weighs heavily on me. My eyes scan the arena again, searching for any weakness, any flaw in the design that might give Lyra a chance.

But there's nothing. The trial is perfect in its cruelty, designed to crush hope and extinguish life. And I'm powerless to stop it.

I stand at attention as the General addresses us, all the overseers gathered, his imposing figure radiating authority. His silver wings, a mark of his high status, shimmer in the dim light of the command center overlooking the arena.

"Today is the last day," he begins, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "We've reached the final stage of these trials. It's time to end this charade with enough entertainment that our crowd will be satisfied."

My jaw clenches involuntarily. I know what's coming, but hearing it aloud makes it real in a way I'm not prepared for.

"The humans must navigate through every obstacle we've laid out for them," the General continues, gesturing to the sprawling arena below. "Physical challenges, magical traps, mental illusions - they'll face it all."

I nod along with the other overseers, maintaining a facade of cool indifference. Inside, my stomach churns.

"But here's the real test," the General's eyes gleam with cruel amusement. "At the end of their journey, they'll face a choice. Multiple portals, each identical to the last. One will lead to the finish line. The rest..." He pauses for effect, "instant death."

A murmur of appreciation ripples through the group. I force myself to smirk, playing my part.

"And just to make things interesting," the General adds, "we'll be pushing them to their absolute limits. Physical exhaustion, mental fatigue, emotional manipulation - use every tool at your disposal. I want them barely coherent when they reach those portals." He looks around at us. "And even if they find the right portal, something else will stop them…"

My mind races to Lyra. I picture her stumbling towards those portals, battered and broken, forced to make a life-or-death decision when she can barely stand. The image makes me sick.

"Remember," the General's voice drops to a menacing whisper, "no human leaves this arena. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" We respond in unison though the words stick in my throat.

As the General dismisses us, I linger behind, my thoughts a maelstrom of conflict. How can I protect Lyra without betraying everything I've ever known?

I stand at my designated post, overlooking the sprawling arena. As the humans pour in, already spelled with the phantom wings, I prepare to unleash the magic that will seal the fate of these human candidates.

A flick of my wrist sends a ripple through the air, distorting the path ahead. What once appeared as a solid bridge now shimmers and wavers, an illusion masking the yawning chasm below. I watch as the first group of humans approaches, their faces etched with determination.

The lead candidate steps forward confidently, unaware of the deception. His foot passes through the illusory surface, and his eyes widen in terror as he plummets, too slow to even beat the wings he is unaccustomed to having. His screams echo through the arena, cutting off abruptly as he vanishes into the mist below.

I feel no remorse as I do it — why would I? — but I don't find the sick satisfaction the other overseers do, either. With a wave of my hand, I conjure swirling vortexes of wind, their currents designed to throw off the humans' balance and send them careening into deadly obstacles. Whatever it takes to slow them down.

But then I see Lyra in the distance, her blonde hair whipping around her face as she fights against the gale. Without even thinking, I send the current gliding around her.

Next, I summon phantoms - shadowy figures that resemble loved ones or feared enemies. They flicker at the edges of the humans' vision, drawing their attention away from the real dangers that surround them. One man reaches out to an apparition of his child, stumbling off the edge of a platform in his desperation to reach her.

As the trial progresses, I layer illusion upon illusion. Distances stretch and contract, making jumps impossible to gauge and few of the humans are even remembering their wings. Solid ground turns to inescapable pits, swallowing candidates whole. Beams of light blind and disorient, leaving the humans vulnerable to the arena's many traps.

With each act of sabotage, I find myself looking for Lyra. I don't care about these other humans, but each attempt sends a pulse through me as I remember that another overseer is doing the same to her.

But I can't help her. It would only make her a target at this point. All I can do is watch as the human candidates fall, one by one, victims of my magic and their own misplaced hope.

I can't tear my eyes away from Lyra as she navigates the treacherous arena. My heart pounds in my chest, a mixture of pride and fear coursing through me. She's doing better than I ever expected, her determination shining through despite the odds stacked against her.

I watch as she gracefully dodges a sudden gust of wind, her phantom wings adjusting instinctively. She's learning fast, adapting to the challenges in a way I've never seen before. A small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it.

"Focus, Sariel," I mutter to myself, clenching my fists. I can't afford to show any favoritism, not with the other xaphan watching so closely.

But as Lyra approaches a particularly nasty illusion trap, panic grips me. My hand twitches, ready to intervene, to save her...

No. I can't. I force myself to remain still, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. The other overseers would notice if I helped her. It would only make things worse.

Still, I find myself silently willing her to see through the deception. "Come on, Lyra," I whisper, too low for anyone else to hear. "You can do this."

As if hearing my thoughts, Lyra hesitates just before the trap. Her eyes narrow, scanning the area with suspicion. At the last second, she veers away, avoiding the illusion entirely.

Relief floods through me, so intense it's almost dizzying. But it's short-lived as I remember the countless other dangers she still has to face.

I continue my assigned tasks, setting traps and creating illusions. But with each spell I cast, I find myself looking for Lyra, making sure she's still alive, still fighting. The conflict inside me grows with every passing moment. How can I protect her without putting her in danger?

Soon, I'm out of options.

Lyra is nearing the center of the arena, where the most lethal traps await. My heart pounds against my ribs as I watch her approach a shimmering barrier - one I know conceals razor-sharp spikes. If she does it right, she'll be able to move and dodge them, but more than likely, they'll shred the wings and leave her to fall.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. She's moving too fast, too confidently. She hasn't seen through this illusion.

Time slows to a crawl. I see Lyra's foot about to step onto the false ground. In that moment, everything else fades away - my duty, my orders, the consequences of disobedience. All that matters is her.

My hand moves before I can think, a quick gesture sending a gust of wind her way. It's subtle, could be mistaken for a random current in the arena. But it's enough to throw her off balance, to make her stumble back from the edge of the pit.

Lyra's eyes widen in surprise as she regains her footing. She looks around, confused, then takes a more cautious step forward. This time, she notices the faint shimmer in the air, the telltale sign of an illusion.

Relief floods through me, but it's short-lived. I've broken protocol. If anyone noticed...

I glance around quickly, heart racing. The other overseers seem focused on their own sections of the arena. But I can't shake the feeling of eyes on my back.

What have I done? I'd risked everything - my position, my life - for this human. And as I watch Lyra carefully navigate around the hidden pit, I can't bring myself to regret it.

But I can't push her into anyone's view. She'll become a target, someone to torment, and I don't want them to start trying to kill her.

I try to focus on my duties, to maintain the facade of indifference. But my eyes keep drifting back to Lyra, tracking her progress through the deadly maze we've created.

She's so close now. So close to the end, to the choice that no human is meant to survive.

And I don't know if I have the strength to watch her die.