5. Hayliel

5

Y esterday felt like both a dream and a nightmare, and today isn’t shaping up to be much better. I don’t even remember going to afternoon classes, though I know I did. We all did.

To make things worse, I slept like absolute shit last night, tossing and turning, unable to get the image of that scarred demon from my mind. Now I’m stuck with another day of pure exhaustion, overheating, and if that wasn’t enough, add on ever-present hunger. Sure, it could just be that my body literally fought off the fabled soul stone at the base of that blade and now it desperately needed to replenish fuel, but what if it’s something else?

With my luck, the possibilities are endless. Too endless for my liking.

I stop by Professor Castiel’s office, hoping he can reassure me. Instead of him, I find a note pinned to his door saying he’ll be out for the day.

Out? Has he left to talk to his friends already, or did something else happen? He said we could trust him, and it’s not like he’s ever given me a reason not to, but I can’t let go of my paranoia. It’s not just about him betraying us, either. What if him asking questions or taking time away from his job gets him in trouble?

I’m a fucking mess.

My slate is out before I even think about it. I send off a message to the group chat, fear riding me hard as I head to the cafeteria for a quick snack before my next class. The hot breakfast items are gone, but I don’t really want something substantial before Wingology. That class already makes me anxious. It’s better not to have something heavy sitting in my gut.

I find a pre-made package of nuts and cheese, then swipe my meal card at the cash register before leaving.

Someone shoulder checks me on the way out, making me drop half my nuts and a few chunks of cheese.

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

I bend to clean up the spilled mess, turning to see who the fuck ran into me like that, but only catch the side of their face. Based on the red trim of her uniform, she’s from Fallen house. Asshole. She doesn’t apologize or even acknowledge the blow, just continues going like nothing happened.

I’m half tempted to call her on her shit, but honestly, I’m too tired to deal with conflict. There’s enough of it going around in my head. I don’t need to add any more.

Well, either she’s a bitch, or her day’s far worse than mine, and neither of those are things I can change.

My slate pings with a message.

Theo : I wouldn’t worry too much, firefly. Realistically, it makes sense that he’d want to talk to his friends in person. The questions we have aren’t really things we should write in a letter or send in an email. It’s good that he’s doing this himself, more secure. Raphael : Plus, that guy is OLD. And he couldn’t have survived that long without being practical.

Their words settle the fears in my core. They're right. It’s a good sign that he’s gone in person. And as long as he comes back—no. I won’t go there.

I finish the rest of my snack as I head to the arena for Wingology class. I’ve been avoiding Professor Uriel’s insistence on another counselor meeting, though I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be allowed to put him off. Hopefully, he doesn’t take his annoyance out on me in today’s class. I laugh, because that would be a miracle. When hasn’t he taken something out on me here?

I get changed into my flight clothes in record time, ignoring the other students like I usually do. Not because I’m rude or antisocial, but I get into far less trouble if I stick to myself and keep quiet.

The mid-morning air feels cool against my heated skin as I step into the arena to join the other students who have already changed. As I approach the block of bleachers we usually sit at for class, everyone grows silent. Fucking great. What the hell is it this time?

Instead of worrying about it, I ignore the gawking, find my seat, and look around. The arena has a different setup today that looks oddly familiar. When Theo, Raphael, and I were at the park for the Archangel’s Feast, they had some sort of competition. I remember because there’d been a family arguing about it. Not that I stood around witnessing it, and maybe I should have. A leg up would be nice right about now.

True. But if I stayed, I wouldn’t have gotten to visit Remiel’s prayer tent. Whatever the outcome today, I wouldn’t change a damn thing about that day. It was worth it ten times over.

Professor Uriel steps up, and the class falls silent.

“Today we’ll be working on flying maneuvers. You may have noticed the setup behind me. I suggest you study it. We will begin today’s class with a demonstration from me on how to complete the obstacle course, and then everyone will have the chance to try it. I will time each of you so I can track your progress over the next few weeks. I expect all students to have their wings out for the duration of class.” His sharp eyes train on me as he finishes, and I wonder if maybe I should have skipped class.

The number of fucks I give today are terrifyingly low. Something that will probably get me in trouble if I’m not careful.

All around me, students let their wings free until I’m surrounded by a healthy mix of black and white wings. Anxiety spikes, restricting my lungs, but I take deep breaths to calm myself. I wish I had at least one trusted friend in this fucking class. Maybe then I could put my wing jacket on and at least blend in a little.

Once my heart is back to a normal rhythm, I take a deep breath and let my wings escape. I keep them tight to my back, not allowing them to expand, even though the motion is uncomfortable. Yet despite my best efforts and the clouds above, they still sparkle enough to pull the attention of my classmates.

Professor Uriel steps up to the starting line and turns to speak. “Pay attention to my movements. Watch how I weave for optimal speed.”

He presses a button along the side before moving into a half-crouched position. The sound of a shot goes off, and then he moves. He’s fast, his white wings almost a blur as he flies down the track at breakneck speeds, taking sharp corners with the grace of a practiced warrior.

I don’t want to be impressed, but damn. The asshole is fast.

When he gets to the finish line, it doesn’t feel like I know the obstacle course any better. Maybe if he had taken it slow, explained his tactics, I would have been able to follow along and learn. From the stunned silence around me, I doubt it’s just me who feels that way.

Professor Uriel peers up at the clock, smirking at his time. When he turns, damn near preening under the sounds of the fawning students, our gazes lock and his eyes narrow in a way that sets me on edge. He looks down at his slate, reading off a few names, but I drown him out.

Until he says mine.

My legs move without my consent, and before I realize it, I’m standing at the starting line with three other students. The only familiar one is Marina, a Pure angel I’ve spoken to a few times, though I wouldn’t exactly say we’re friends. The other two are Fallen, and while their features are familiar, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to them.

We get into our starting positions, and Professor Uriel presses the button to begin the countdown.

Strategy races through my mind. I’m better off taking my time, learning the obstacles first before trying to blow through them at top speed. And, if that keeps me out of the limelight, all the better.

Boom.

The starting shot rings loud, and suddenly we’re all moving. It’s a straight line at first, and I hold back as the others pick up speed, getting closer and closer to the ninety-degree turn at the end.

Around the bend is a series of strategically placed walls followed by another sharp turn at the end, but I don’t have time to worry about what’s beyond that because I’m at the first turn.

I let everything fall away until it’s only me and this damn course. Avoiding the walls is easy, and at my slow pace, so are the turns. When I reach the last stretch, I swallow hard. There are only a few narrow pathways to fly, and each one has machines that close up and crush whatever’s between them.

Speed will be important here.

My heart slams against the cage of my chest as I plan the best route. Everyone else has already made it to the finish line, but I don’t let that bother me. Not when I’m trying to figure out how to avoid getting flattened. Metal clashes on metal as the machines open and close in a steady rhythm, and I let it move through me until it feels as though it and my heartbeat are in synchronization.

With one big inhale, I advance toward the last obstacle. My palms are sweaty as my wings hurdle me through the first machine without issue. The next one is off to the left, so I pivot, but I push too hard and now I’m not lined up with the machine. It takes a few seconds to get myself in position, but I eventually make it through that one, too. Only one more left.

The distance between the hurdles isn’t much, not enough to pick up the pace, and the machine opens and closes at a different rate than the first two. If I time this incorrectly, I’ll shatter my wings. How is this even allowed? Angels are bound to get hurt, their wings destroyed.

Did the university sanction this? It wouldn’t surprise me if this was something Professor Uriel chose just to watch his students suffer.

My limbs grow shaky as fear wells up inside me, but I push it down, tucking it away into a box in my mind and closing the lid. I can do this. With a final burst of speed and two immense flaps of my wings, I’m flying toward it. Metal clashes from behind me, and I know I only have seconds to make it through this machine or else I’m a goner. But the distance is too great.

This machine is longer than the others, and I don’t have time to get out.

As if in slow motion, the machine walls close around me and it feels as though I might suffocate.

No, no, no!

There isn’t enough space for me to flap my wings in here, but I make small movements, anyway. Just a little bit farther.

I finally make it through the machine, but there’s no time to celebrate, not when I notice the tip of my left wing is still between the metal walls, and time has run out. I expect a rush of pain to go along with the sound of metal clashing, but I don’t really feel anything . Only a soft compression around my wings.

What the hell?

As soon as my wing tip is free, I dash toward the finish line, not caring what my time is. How did I just survive that? Is it the same reason an angel blade didn’t kill me?

“Your time is abysmal at best,” Professor Uriel calls out to me. “And if those machines had been real, you’d be out of commission with a shattered wing. Pathetic.”

“Real?” I sputter, not following.

“The university wouldn’t allow an obstacle with real danger, despite my valid arguments.” Under his breath, he adds, “I should have known putting you first would uncover that little secret. Now the entire practice is in jeopardy.”

I can’t even believe this guy. He’s such a fucking dick. Here I am, crashing from the adrenaline of thinking my wings were about to get obliterated, and he’s upset that I revealed the truth? My hands shake, breath unsteady, as I do my best to ignore him and calm my nerves.

He calls out another four names, his hand hovering over the button to start the course, but he doesn’t press it. “I don’t want the knowledge that these machines won’t hurt to deter you from doing your best. And if I detect any of you doing so, rest assured there will be consequences. Got it?”

Students shout their agreement, but Professor Uriel still doesn’t move. “And one more thing.” His shrewd gaze lands on me for a single heartbeat before it advances to the other students. “Once the course starts, you do not stop. In an actual situation, you likely won’t have time to get your bearings. This is no different. Begin!”

I watch as student after student passes the finish line. Some don’t make it through the hurdle at the end without getting caught in the machines like I did, which at least makes me feel a little better. On Cadriel’s first attempt, he’d passed by me with some scathing remark, but I stopped listening the moment he opened his mouth. I know better than to listen to him.

Karma must have finally caught up to him because he didn’t even make it through a third of the course. He’d taken on too much speed and ran face-first into one of the walls around the first turn. The crunch of his nose breaking is something I won’t be able to forget. He’s a dick, but damn. It was hard to watch. Of course, his injuries weren’t severe enough that he couldn’t insult me on his way to the infirmary. Assholes will be assholes, I guess.

After everyone makes it through one round of the course, Professor Uriel brings us back to the start and tells us to practice. These laps aren’t timed, though the rules still apply. No stopping. Do better.

I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at this guy’s shitty attitude as I step up to the starting line again. When I make it through the course this time, I think I was faster, though I still couldn’t finish without getting a wing caught in that last machine. There has to be something I can do differently.

My muscles ache, unused to getting such a workout. I guess the years of keeping them hidden, only using them when absolutely necessary, is coming back to bite me in the ass. But the pain is good. It means I’m growing stronger.

And I need to be stronger to make it through what’s coming.

While I wait for my next turn, I hear a group of Fallen talking as if I’m not even there.

“We’re supposed to believe she killed all those demons at the well? Yeah, right,” a girl with a hawkish nose, pierced on both sides, says to her friends.

“She can’t even make it through the obstacle without getting squashed. There’s no fucking way,” her friend says, a guy with a mohawk who might have been attractive if it weren’t for the sneer on his face. “Not that I want to believe that Pure bitch Seraphina, but maybe she was on to something. Gray wings, gold wings, it doesn’t matter. She’s a monstrosity that doesn’t deserve to be here.”

Their words cut me far deeper than the angel blade had. I shouldn’t let it bother me, not when I’ve heard it a million times before, but this is different. These are Fallen, the angels I always thought I could rely on, and now they’re turning their backs on me.

Tears threaten to spill, but I can’t let them see how much it hurts. That will only fuel them.

Professor Uriel approaches, his lips pursed. “It would appear we have several more items to discuss in your next counseling session. You do realize those are required, don’t you? I would hate for your place at this school to be put in jeopardy.”

As fucking if. Does he actually expect me to believe he’d be upset if I was kicked out? Not after the way he’s treated me.

“Things have been hectic recently. I’ll make time soon,” I tell him, but it’s a lie. I have no intention of being alone with him again.

“Good. Your course time worries me. It might even be the lowest I’ve seen in my tenure here. I’ll need to see a significant improvement in your final score in order for me to feel confident in your continued success here.”

He should really just come out and say it, seeing as I can read his intentions plain enough already. With or without my attendance at his counselor meetings, my place here is in danger.

“Of course, Professor.”

He moves on to speak to another student, berating him on his time loud enough for others to hear. It should bring me some solace that he’s not just picking on me, but it doesn’t.

When it’s my turn to fly the obstacle course again, I almost don’t want to.

Fuck, I wish I could connect with my friends right now. They’d lift my spirits and tell me I’m a badass, but I’ve been too scared to try again since what happened in Castiel’s office. I close my eyes, picturing Dina, Raphael, Theo, and even Zeke. All of them believe in me. And I think—no, I know —they see more in me than anyone else does.

Including myself.

When the gun blasts, I bolt. After two tries at this thing already, I feel more confident. Or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself over and over again until I believe it.

Even if I don’t fully make it through that last obstacle, it’s not the end of the world, right? Progress is progress. That’s what I should focus on.

This time I look at the clock when I cross the finish line. Out of the four angels I raced with, at least I didn’t come last this time.

The professor calls for one more group, and I walk off to the side to watch on. To my left, a mixed group of Pure and Fallen angels talk in hushed tones. I have no doubts about what they’re discussing, and even though I can’t hear their words, I step further to my right until I’m blissfully alone.

Except, I’m not.

“Protector, my ass,” someone says, though I can’t see him. “That angel can’t even protect herself from getting crushed in a fake obstacle course.”

If someone replies, I don’t hear it. Part of me wants to turn around and figure out just where these fuckers are, but I don’t. Somehow, it’s worse if they know I’m standing right here, listening to every word they say.

The guy scoffs indigently. “We’re treated like shit for our black wings, and yet somehow, that train wreck gets special treatment. She’s just as fucking Fallen as the rest of us.”

“No, she’s beneath us. That bitch walks around here like she’s royalty, but after today, the only monarch I see is Queen Shit of Turd Island,” an unfamiliar female voice says, and I swallow past the knot in my throat.

If the Pure hate me and now the Fallen do too, I’m not sure I can take it. Fallen House has been my refuge. It’s my safe space where I know I’ll escape from the angels like Seraphina, Cadriel, and even Professor Uriel. How many more Fallen feel this way? Is it everyone?

My breaths turn shallow as I struggle to take in enough oxygen. All my life, I’ve felt like an outsider, but at least then I had my parents, Dina, and our Fallen friends. They always just understood .

I’ve never felt more estranged in my entire life.

Maybe I don’t belong anywhere.

I’m too lost in thought when Professor Uriel starts speaking. He says something about the obstacle course being part of our final exams in a few weeks.

If everyone hates me, will I even make it that long?

The changing room is loud with whispers and comments from the angels around me, but it’s like I’m on autopilot. I just need to change and get out. It’s too crowded. Too warm. It feels like I’m slowly suffocating in here.

And as I leave the changing rooms, and head away from the arena, I can’t shake the eerie sense that something is very, very wrong .