Page 137 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

We nod together, awaiting his vast knowledge which would give me a bit of a headstart in figuring out how I’m going to trend at the academy.

"The Years," Mortimer begins, "don't work based on time as you might expect. Inside Wicked Academy's walls, time flows differently than the outside world." His fingers trace the glowinglines on the board. "A normal day here could easily be a week or more in the outside realms, depending on which one you're measuring against."

I feel the blood drain from my face as the implications hit me.

"Wait," I whisper, my grip tightening on my mug. "Are you saying the two days I've spent here could already be..."

"Two weeks in your realm," Mortimer confirms with a slight nod. "Give or take a week or two. It's similar to how time works in Faerie —— where a single day there might equal a month in the mundane world."

My mind races with this new information.

Two weeks... Elena continues to be ill for two weeks while I've experienced only forty-eight hours. This means if I spend a week here, that could easily be two months.

Now that I can think straight, the implications are daunting.

The thought makes my stomach churn.

"So," I say slowly, piecing it together, "the students here know this. That's why they're so desperate to gain points quickly. So they can go home?"

Mortimer's expression grows more complex.

"Yes and no," he says carefully. "The point system rewards... certain behaviors. The more 'misbehaved, rude, and wicked' you are to an individual, the more points you can gain." He adjusts his glasses. "However, it depends entirely on how the individual reacts to the bullying. If they maintain emotional control and don't react initially, no points are awarded."

My gaze shifts to Cassius, understanding dawning.

"Is that why you try not to show emotions?" I ask softly.

He shakes his head, shadows rippling.

"I've always been like this," he says quietly. "It's more of a Duskwalker trait, though it doesn't mean I'm emotionless all the time. Very few individuals ignite any emotional response fromme." His silver eyes meet mine. "You're probably one of the newest who can prompt me to actually talk."

Warmth blooms in my chest at his admission, making me feel oddly special.

Before I can dwell on it though, another thought strikes me.

"Where's Grim?"

As if summoned by his name, Mini Grim poofs into existence, complete with a tiny scythe and ——are those pajamas?

I can't suppress the squeal that escapes me as I scoop him up, admiring his adorable sleepwear.

"Were you sleeping?" I ask, completely charmed by this diminutive version of our usually imposing companion.

Grim raises his scythe in the air and declares, "Greee!"

The sound makes us all freeze. Cassius tilts his head, shadows writhing with increased agitation.

"He talked," he says, surprise evident in his usually controlled voice.

"Is he not supposed to?" I ask, glancing between them.

Nikolai shakes his head slowly, golden aura flickering with interest.

"Beings of shadow like him don't normally progress or change forms like this," he explains. "His development has been remarkably quick."

"It could have something to do with your bond," Mortimer muses, studying Mini Grim with scholarly fascination. "We'll need to research this in the library once we gain access."

Mini Grim responds with another cheerful "Gree!" before yawning widely. He floats from my hands to my shoulder, where he promptly curls up and falls asleep, a tiny scythe clutched to his chest.

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