13. Athena

13

ATHENA

T he late afternoon sun streams through the workshop's high windows, casting long shadows across the weapon-lined walls. Uriel is gone but he left Raven here to teach me more about weapons, ones he wants me to help forge. He says he'll teach me, but he can't seem to stay in the same room as me.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into it.

I trail my fingers along a row of curved blades, each one more wicked than the last. The metal gleams with an otherworldly sheen that speaks of xaphan craftsmanship.

"Don't touch that one." Raven's wings rustle as she moves beside me, her violet eyes narrowed. "That's a soul-render. One nick and it'll drain your life force dry."

I snatch my hand back. "How can you tell the difference?"

"See the blue tinge along the edge?" She picks up the blade, her movements fluid despite the slight hesitation in her left leg. "Regular blades don't catch the light like that. Here, this one's safer to handle."

She passes me a shorter blade with intricate etchings along its surface. The weight settles perfectly in my palm, like it was made for me.

"That's celestial silver. Won't kill you, but it'll still hurt like hell if you're not careful." A smirk plays across her angular features. "Found that one in the ruins of an old temple. Nearly lost my other leg getting it."

"Is that how...?" I gesture to her left side.

Her wings fold tighter against her back. "No. That was... different." She moves to a workbench, easing herself onto a stool. "Got cocky during a border skirmish. Thought I was invincible because I had magic on my side." Her laugh holds no humor. "Found out the hard way that magic doesn't stop a demon's blade."

I set down the dagger and join her. "But you survived."

"Barely. Spent six months learning to walk again." She runs a hand through her midnight hair. "The healers said I'd never fight again. Proved them wrong within a year."

"That's incredible."

"That's survival." She picks up a whetstone, testing its edge with her thumb. "When you're born with these—" she flexes her dove-gray wings, "—everyone expects perfection. Can't let a little thing like a mangled leg stop you."

The bitterness in her voice strikes a chord. I know what it's like to live under impossible expectations, to be seen as less than perfect. "Sometimes proving them wrong is the best revenge."

Her violet eyes lock onto mine, and something shifts in her expression. "You understand more than most humans would."

I shrug. "I think most people underestimate me."

She clears her throat. "Well, let's get started then."

I lean over the workbench, my honey-blonde curls falling forward as I trace the delicate runes with a sharpened thin-point blade that channels magic since I have none. The symbols pulse with a faint blue glow - a simple enchantment meant to sharpen blades. My fingers hover over the final marking, the one that would complete the circuit of power.

"You're getting better at this," Raven says, watching from her perch.

A familiar frustration bubbles up inside me. Always watching, always supervised. Never trusted to work magic alone, even though I can't actually cast any. I'm just the assistant, the human, the fragile one who needs protection.

And Uriel hasn't bothered to show up. I don't know why that bothers me so much, but it does. In fact, I'm growing more annoyed by the second, I realize I no longer want to be the perfect little rule following human he expects of me.

Maybe then he'll bother to show up if it's to yell at me.

I drag the blade across the surface, deliberately angling the line wrong. The satisfaction is instant - sharp and sweet like stolen wine. The runes flicker, struggling to connect, before fading to dull gray. Failure.

"Oops." I widen my eyes, the picture of innocence. "I must have drawn it wrong."

Raven limps over, her wings casting shadows across the failed enchantment. "The binding rune is off. See?" She points to my intentional mistake. "It needs to flow into the next symbol, not fight against it."

"I'll try again." But I won't. Not really. These small acts of rebellion are all I have - tiny cracks in the perfect facade they expect me to maintain.

I start fresh, moving over to begin against and trying to ignore the thrill coursing through my veins. Each ruined enchantment is a silent scream against the cage of expectations. They see me as gentle, empathetic Athena. Sweet little human who needs sheltering from the darkness.

But I've seen enough darkness to know it lives inside me too.

Raven's head tilts, those violet eyes narrowing as she studies my face. Her wings shift, casting new shadows across the workbench. "You did that on purpose."

"What? No, I just—" The lie tastes stale on my tongue.

A wicked grin splits her angular features. "Please. I know that look on your face. You're too precise to make that basic of a mistake."

Heat creeps up my neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't." She leans forward, midnight hair falling across her face. "Want to know a secret? I fuck with Uriel all the time. Sometimes I like to mix up his bookshelf or steal his favorite weapons."

My mouth drops open. "That must make him furious."

"Oh, he gets that way." She straightens, and I catch the slight tremor in her left leg before she shifts her weight. "But what's he gonna do? Stop letting his best weapons scout work for him?"

"I just get so tired of being treated like I'll break."

"So break something of his instead." Raven picks up the blade, twirling it between her fingers. "Much more satisfying."

A laugh bubbles up from my chest, surprising me with its darkness. She hands me the blade with an exaggerated bow.

"Now finish up these runes - properly this time - and let's go raid that special vintage he thinks I don't know about. The one he keeps behind the false panel in his office."

"How did you?—"

She winks, her violet eyes sparkling with mischief. "I make it my business to know where all the good stuff is hidden. Besides, what's the point of having a bad leg if you can't use it to gain sympathy and information?"

I make a few more right before I mess up another. It makes me grin, knowing how much it will piss Uriel off.

But then, heavy footsteps echo through the workshop, and I freeze mid-rune. Koros fills the doorway, his massive frame blocking the light. One golden eye and one black fix on the workbench, taking in the covered workbench and failed enchantments.

"Those runes look wrong." His deep voice rumbles through the space. He moves closer, each step deliberate, his nearly-black wings brushing the ceiling.

Raven shifts, but doesn't rise from her perch. "Just teaching the little human some basics."

"No." Koros traces the air above my latest attempt, his scarred face unreadable. "She's breaking the flow on purpose. See how the lines cut against the grain?" His mismatched eyes lock onto mine. "Amateur mistake. Or a clever one, depending on your goal."

My heart pounds against my ribs. "I?—"

"If you want to cause real trouble," he continues, running a hand through his dark red hair, "target the stabilizing runes instead of the power channels. Harder to trace, and the effects are..." A wicked grin splits his face. "More entertaining."

Raven barks out a laugh. "Told you she was good."

"Good, but sloppy." Koros picks up the blade, his huge hands somehow gentle with the delicate piece. "Watch." He draws a series of interconnected symbols, each one flowing seamlessly into the next. "See how these connect? Break this one—" he taps a specific rune, "—and the whole thing destabilizes. But it looks like natural wear."

I lean closer, studying the pattern. "Won't Uriel notice?"

"Uriel notices everything." Koros's voice holds a hint of admiration. "But I'm just teaching you how runes work." He hands me the blade. "Try it."

My fingers shake slightly as I copy his pattern. The runes glow faintly, pulsing with potential energy. At the crucial point, I let my hand slip - just so - creating a hairline break in the stabilizing symbol.

The entire sequence flares bright blue before fizzling out with a sad sputter.

"Perfect." Koros's approval sends a thrill down my spine. "Now that's how you cause chaos."

And that's how I spend my afternoon, laughing with Koros and Raven, stealing Uriel's wine, and learning runes so well I know how to break them. By the time we get to dinner, I've managed to put how angry I am with Uriel out of my head.

The dining room's warm glow can't mask the shadows that dance across Uriel's as he comes in, though, wings spread wide in frustration. His golden curls catch the light from the enchanted chandelier, creating a halo effect that clashes with the cruel twist of his mouth.

"Every single enchantment." His glare sweeps across the three of us. "Ruined. I thought you were learning how to do them right. "

I duck my head to hide my smile, pushing the roasted meat around my plate. Across the table, Raven catches my eye and takes a long, deliberate sip of wine - the special vintage we'd liberated earlier.

"Perhaps it's the blade that was faulty," Koros rumbles, his massive frame dwarfing the ornate dining chair. His wings, dark as pitch, twitch with barely contained amusement. "Or the alignment of the stars was... unfavorable."

Uriel's golden eyes narrow. "The stars?" His lip curls. "Since when do you believe in that nonsense?"

"I'm expanding my interests." Koros's mismatched eyes glitter as he reaches for the wine. "Very educational, astrology. I hear Neomia is out of alignment with Illyria."

Raven chokes on her drink, covering the sound with a cough that doesn't quite hide her laughter. Her midnight hair falls forward, shielding her face as her shoulders shake.

"Are you feeling unwell?" I ask her with exaggerated concern, pressing my hand to my chest. "Perhaps it's the... alignment of the stars affecting your health."

"You're all impossible." Uriel drops into his chair, wings folding tight against his back. "I don't know why I put up with any of you."

"Because we're delightful." Raven straightens, her violet eyes dancing. She shifts in her seat, and I catch the slight grimace as she adjusts her bad leg. "And because no one else will trade you celestial weapons at such reasonable rates."

"Reasonable?" Uriel scoffs, but the cruel edge of his smile softens slightly. "You're practically thieves, the lot of you."

Koros raises his glass in a mock toast. "To daylight thievery and faulty enchantments."

We clink our glasses together, three pairs of eyes meeting in silent conspiracy while Uriel mutters about finding new suppliers. The wine tastes sweeter for being stolen, and the warmth spreading through me has nothing to do with alcohol. For the first time since coming to this place, I feel like I belong - not despite my imperfections, but because of them.