Page 44 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Time to face the music...and hopefully get some answers in the process.

My fingers curl around the doorknob, ready to face whatever awaits on the other side, when a voice stops me cold.

The sound slices through the air like a poisoned blade – stern, cruel, and dripping with condescension.

"Either you find your final member or consider your positions officially revoked. I'm sure you'll enjoy wandering these halls as the outcasts you truly are."

Something about the voice sets my teeth on edge, like nails on a chalkboard mixed with the hiss of a venomous snake. It's the kind of voice that makes you want to either run far away or punch its owner directly in the throat.

The unsettling feeling grows stronger as ancient runes begin to surface along my wrist, bleeding up through my skin like ink through paper. They pulse with nervous energy, matching the erratic beating of my heart. The air around my hand shimmers, magic manifesting as flickering flames that dance just beneath my skin.

My grip tightens on the doorknob as I lean closer, straining to hear more of the conversation happening on the other side.

Damien's voice cuts through next, sharp with barely contained fury.

"It's not as if we haven't been searching for our final member." The vampire prince's tone carries centuries of royal authority, even as frustration bleeds through. "Such decisions take time, especially when this godforsaken academy demands we remain a 'wicked unit' for four bloody years."

Four years?

The thought of being bound to any group for that long makes my stomach turn. I especially can’t imagine that with this unique bunch of royal paranormals.

Cassius wouldn’t be bad…but maybe I’m being a bit biased.

A throat clearing precedes Nikolai's more diplomatic response.

"What Damien means to say, and please excuse his bluntness, he's rather stressed about the situation, is that we require a partner who can truly balance our unique royal dynamic. Such individuals are exceedingly rare."

The Fae prince's words carry that particular blend of courtly grace and subtle manipulation I've come to expect from his kind. Every syllable is carefully chosen, and wrapped in respect while maintaining dignity.

Cassius's voice follows, cool and measured as winter frost.

"The requirements are...specific. They must possess elemental magic compatible with Fae energy, demonstrate the necessary components to harmonize with a vampire's nature, and somehow manage to exist in the same space as a Duskwalker without succumbing to madness." A pause, then, "Mortimer's presence is merely an additional complication."

Well, that explains a few things about their strange dynamic.

The unknown man's response comes as a growl, thick with disdain. "One of the Seven shouldn't even be part of this mismatched collection of royal misfits." The words drip with venom. "But you have your kingdoms' favor, all demanding theirprecious heirs receive constant instruction from a high-ranking professor."

So…Mortimer is a professor here?

A wet, hacking cough interrupts his tirade.

When he speaks again, his voice carries a note of smug satisfaction.

"It's only due to my highly sought-after status among the ranks that I was chosen for this task. Though I must say, I'm rather thankful. It seems like a waste of the years granted by our lengthy lifespans."

The runes on my wrist pulse faster, responding to the toxic energy emanating from beyond the door. Whatever –whoever– this man is, his very presence seems to offend the magic running through my veins.

The flames beneath my skin grow brighter, casting faint shadows across the doorknob still clutched in my grip. I've never seen my magic react this way to someone's voice alone. It's as if every fiber of my being recognizes a threat, something fundamentally wrong about this person.

My mind races, processing the implications of what I'm hearing. The princes aren't just students – they're part of some sort of unit, one that requires a final member to be complete. And whatever position or power they hold here hangs in the balance.

No wonder they were so suspicious of my arrival.

The requirements Cassius listed echo in my head: Fae-compatible elemental magic, vampire harmonization, and Duskwalker tolerance...

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up in my throat as I realize just how perfectly I fit that description.

Too perfectly.

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