Page 19 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

"Explain."

"The blessing," Mortimer says slowly as if piecing together a puzzle whose full image remains unclear, "is that she can blend in. Move among us without triggering the ancient wards that would normally destroy any female who dares enter these halls." His lips quirk into a sardonic smile. "Which means, in theory, she could attend alongside you all."

"Absolutely not!" The denial comes from three throats simultaneously, though I'm surprised to hear my own voice among them.

Mortimer raises one elegant hand, silencing further protests.

"The curse, however, lies in the uncertainty. How long will the academy's energy protect her? How long before the glamour fails at precisely the wrong moment?" His expression grows grave. "And what happens to her…or should I say to all of us…when it does unravel?"

"That's hardly our concern," Damien scoffs, though something in his tone suggests he's not as dismissive as he'd like to appear. "Let her face the consequences of her own foolish choices."

Nikolai nods in agreement, but I find myself speaking before I can stop the words.

"It may not be that simple."

All eyes turn to me, but my gaze seeks out Mortimer.

The Reaper's expression confirms my growing suspicion — there's more at stake here than a simple case of trespassing.

Mortimer sighs, running a hand through his midnight hair.

"Cassius is right. Think about it. We're now aware of her presence, aware of her true nature. If the remaining members of the Hexarch Order discover that we knew and failed to report her..."

The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees.

The Hexarch Order– seven beings of such power and influence that even mentioning them feels threatening. They aren't merely administrators or Professors, even though they aim to “play” that role.

They're the living embodiments of Wicked Academy's most ancient laws. Their word is absolute, their judgments final and often fatal.

And Mortimer is one of them, who is thankfully on our side by sworn destiny versus volunteered choice.

Each Hexarch represents a different aspect of forbidden knowledge: Necromancy, Blood Magic, Void Manipulation,Mind Arts, Flesh Crafting, and perhaps most terrifying of all, Pure Chaos itself.

Many believe there should be seven categories to match the Seven individuals within the Order, but very few know that one key individual carries the knowledge of all six categories deeming them the most important out of all of them.

They rarely interfere directly in academy affairs, preferring to work through their chosen agents and observe from the shadows.

Mortimer not being included in this case.

But when they do take action...

A memory surfaces — unbidden and unwelcome — of the last time the Hexarchs passed judgment. The screams had lasted for days. What remained afterward couldn't even properly be called a corpse.

It was one of the few instances where I feared Mortimer’s wrath, and was secretly thankful despite our usual disrespecting behaviors, he didn’t use such judgment to crucify us.

My spirit shifts uneasily, drawing my attention back to the figure in its arms.

In sleep, another flicker of her true form shows through — this time it's the curve of her jaw, softer than the masculine illusion, yet somehow stronger too.

The sight stirs something protective in my chest that I'm not ready to examine too closely.

"The Hexarchs," Mortimer continues, his voice pitched low as if the very walls might be listening, "take a particularly dim view of those who challenge the natural order of their domain. A female student? In their eyes, that's not merely breaking tradition, but it's an assault on the very foundations of what Wicked Academy represents."

Great…

"And now we're all complicit," Nikolai realizes, the color draining from his face. Even Fae royalty fears the Hexarch Council's wrath. "Simply by knowing of her existence and failing to raise the alarm immediately..."

Damien's familiar smirk has been replaced by something more calculating.

---