25. Sariel

25

SARIEL

I stand beside Raxis and Zephyr, my jaw clenched as I listen to Rahmiel and Nisroc discuss the outcome of the trials. Their voices grate on my nerves, each word fueling the anger burning in my chest.

"We can't allow this to stand," Rahmiel says, his purple eyes narrowed. "A human earning wings? It's unprecedented. No xaphan will accept this outcome."

Except me, you stupid piece of shit.

Nisroc nods, his short white hair catching the light. "Agreed. We need to find a way to invalidate the results. Perhaps we could claim there was outside interference?"

I bite my tongue, tasting blood. These fucking bastards. They're trying to rob Lyra of everything she's fought for, everything she's earned. My hands curl into fists at my sides, and I have to force myself to breathe evenly.

"What about you, Sariel?" Zephyr's cool voice cuts through my thoughts. "You oversaw much of her training. Did you notice anything... irregular?"

I meet her gaze, keeping my face impassive. "No," I say, my voice low and controlled. "Nothing irregular. She completed the trials fairly."

Raxis snorts. "Come on, Sariel. We all know these trials weren't meant to be won. There must have been a mistake somewhere. Or perhaps you interfered somehow because you have a liking for the human?"

"Highly unlikely," I respond, even though my mind races with thoughts of Lyra.

I turn my gaze to the arena center, where Lyra stands on a floating platform. The crowd around her cheers, their voices a thunderous roar of approval. She looks small from this distance, but I can see the strength in her stance, the pride radiating from her.

My chest tightens. She did it. She actually fucking did it. And now these pompous assholes want to take it all away.

"Perhaps," Rahmiel muses, "we could claim that her final performance was enhanced by residual magic from the labyrinth. It would be easy enough to fabricate evidence."

I clench my jaw so hard I think my teeth might crack. The urge to lash out, to defend Lyra, burns through me like wildfire. But I know I have to play this smart. One wrong move and I could ruin everything.

I watch in barely contained fury as Nisroc's lips curl into a smug smile as he raises a finger.

"Technically," he drawls, "she didn't truly complete all the trials as it was intended. We can deny her the wings based on that technicality."

Rahmiel's eyes light up, a cruel glint that makes my stomach turn. "Brilliant," he says, nodding approvingly. "I'll announce it to the arena immediately."

My blood boils as Rahmiel steps forward onto the glass platform that overlooks the arena, wings spread wide to command attention. The crowd's cheers die down as he raises his hands, preparing to crush Lyra's dreams with a few carefully chosen words.

Beside me, Raxis and Zephyr exchange knowing glances, chuckling quietly. Their laughter grates on my nerves, each snicker stoking the inferno of rage within me.

I clench my fists so tight I can feel my nails digging into my palms. Every fiber of my being screams to intervene, to stop this injustice. But I force myself to remain still, my face a mask of indifference even as my insides burn with a white hot heat enough to rival the stars.

Lyra stands below, her face beaming with pride and joy. She has no idea of the twist of fate about to befall her. I want to warn her, to shield her from the crushing disappointment that's coming. But I'm trapped, powerless to stop the wheels already in motion.

As Rahmiel opens his mouth to speak, I feel something inside me snap. The carefully constructed walls of duty and obedience crumble under the weight of my anger and newfound loyalty to Lyra.

Lyra is worth losing everything for. And I can't stand watching these bastards try to knock her down after she's done everything to please them.

Rahmiel raises his hands, his voice booming across the arena. "Thank you all for joining us to witness the culmination of the wing trials," he announces, his tone dripping with false sincerity.

My stomach drops as I see Lyra's face light up with hope and pride, a wide smile across her face. She has no idea what's coming.

"However," Rahmiel continues, his voice taking on a regretful tone that makes me want to rip his wings off, "it's unfortunate that we must reveal a crucial detail."

The arena goes silent. I swallow hard, wanting to step forward and put Rahmiel in his place. But he's my superior. And I'll lose more than my wings if I assault him in front of so many witnesses.

"Because Lyra didn't complete the trials in three distinct parts as originally intended," Rahmiel declares, his words like daggers to my ears, "this means that she cannot receive her wings."

A shocked murmur ripples through the crowd. I see confusion and disbelief wash over Lyra's face, her joy crumbling into devastation within the blink of an eye. I grimace, sympathizing with her grief.

The crowd's murmurs grow louder. Outrage and confusion mash together. Some bastards nod along with Rahmiel's words, raising their fists in the air in agreement. Even from up here, I catch snippets of the ensuing conversations.

"But she completed the trials!"

"How is that fair?"

"She did everything right!"

"I told you all! No human will ever win their wings!"

As the seconds tick by, the crowd grows even more agitated. The air crackles with tension, and I can feel the restlessness radiating off the spectators in waves. And Lyra, my little nexari, despite the obvious despair weighing down her shoulders, lifts her chin and stares directly at Rahmiel. The fire in her eyes catches me off guard completely. Even in the face of injustice, she still carries herself with immense authority.

I have never known a human quite as powerful as her.

I watch, barely breathing, as Lyra's voice rings out across the arena. Her words slice through the chaos of the crowd like a sharpened blade, silencing the murmurs in an instant.

"No!" she shouts, her blue eyes blazing with a defiance I've never seen in a human before. "I won't accept this injustice! I've earned my wings!"

The crowd falls eerily silent, every eye in the arena turning to the small human who dares to challenge the xaphan leaders. My heart pounds loudly against my ribcage. I'm amazed by what my little nexari is capable of, but I'm also terrified of the consequences she might face for her boldness.

After all, what's stopping these two from swooping down and killing her right where she stands? They're capable of it. I've seen similar things happen to disobedient humans before.

Rahmiel's face darkens, his purple eyes flashing dangerously. I tense, ready to intervene if necessary. I won't let them hurt her. I don't care if the whole of New Solas realizes my affection for her.

"I have given everything to these trials," Lyra continues, her voice strong and unwavering. "I've trained until my body ached and my mind was pushed to its limits. I've faced death and came out stronger. I've proven myself worthy!"

Murmurs of agreement ripple through the crowd. I can't help but smirk at the shocked expressions on Rahmiel and Nisroc's faces. They clearly didn't expect this level of resistance. As a matter of fact, I don't think they've ever had anyone call them out on their shit before. It's almost comical, watching their pristine wings ruffle with indignation.

"You promised wings to those who completed the trials," Lyra says, her gaze fixed on the xaphan leaders. "I completed every challenge you set before me. I overcame every obstacle. And I won!" Her voice rings out, clear and strong, echoing my own thoughts. Damn, she's got more balls than half the xaphan I know.

The crowd erupts in cheers, their voices echoing off the arena walls. Lyra's words have struck a chord, and I can see the uncertainty creeping into Rahmiel and Nisroc's eyes. It's a beautiful thing to witness—these arrogant bastards are finally realizing they might not be as untouchable as they thought. I cross my arms, enjoying the spectacle. This little nexari of mine is turning their whole world upside down, and I'm loving every fucking second of it.

"The trials were designed to test our physical endurance, mental strategy, and magical aptitude," Lyra says, her voice growing stronger with each word. "I've proven myself in all these areas. How can you deny me what I've rightfully earned?"

More shouts of agreement from the crowd. I see humans and even some xaphan nodding along with Lyra's words. The atmosphere in the arena has shifted completely, from jubilation to the beginnings of a rebellion.

Rahmiel and Nisroc exchange bewildered glances, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. They whisper urgently to each other, their faces flushing red at the circumstances.

As Lyra continues to argue her case, listing her achievements and the hardships she's overcome, I can't help but feel an immense pride surge through my body. As well as possessiveness. This is the woman I've come to admire—fierce, determined, and unwilling to back down in the face of injustice. And she's all mine.

"Oh, who fucking cares about what this human thinks?" Zephyr retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. "This is ridiculous. Shut the arena down already."

"And risk inciting a revolt?" I reply, perking a brow. I'm doing a good job masking the fact that I would kill every xaphan in this room if it meant saving Lyra from their clutches. "Word will spread across all of New Solas about what happened here."

"And?" Raxis scoffs. "The xaphan won't care."

"But other races will," I insist, gritting my teeth. "We're not on the best of terms with everyone. They're only searching for something, anything, to undermine our power. And this blunder might be it."

As the crowds below continue to yell and protest against the injustice, I know one thing for sure. Lyra deserves those wings.

And I'm willing to burn this arena to the ground if she doesn't get what she deserves.