Page 51 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Like slipping into a favorite coat you'd forgotten you owned.

Lord Bartholomew's struggles against the gravitational force are delightful to watch. His body fights against the inexorable pull, even as it draws him downward. My lips curve higher, transforming into something darker – a smile that belongs more to predator than prey.

Rolling my shoulders, I let out a satisfied groan as my neck cracked. The sound echoes in the pressurized air.

"Man," I drawl, "it's getting rather hot in here, isn't it?" My fingers tap against my thigh in a lazy rhythm. "Makes me want to step out for some fresh air. Maybe even have a smoke, though I try to limit those these days."

Lord Bartholomew's legs begin to shake with the effort of remaining upright.

"It's really just an occasional luxury," I continue conversationally. "Have to be careful with that, you know? The benzene, carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide…they don't play nice with low blood reserves." A thoughtful pause. "And nobody wants to deal with an unhinged vampire. We get these absolutely ridiculous god complexes, and start thinking we're invincible."

The mark on my neck pulses in time with my power, creating patterns of energy that dance through the air like heat waves. The runes along my wrist have darkened to nearly black, their glow intense enough to cast shadows.

A particularly strong pulse of power sends Lord Bartholomew's knees buckling.

He crashes to the floor, his entire frame trembling as he fights against the weight of my magic. Sweat beads on his forehead, and his breath comes in short, sharp gasps.

The sight sends a thrill of satisfaction through me. My power continues to build, layer upon layer, like compounding pressure at the bottom of an ocean. Each wave brings with it memories of why I sealed this part of myself away:

The way buildings would crumble under the sheer force of my will.

How the very air would become too heavy to breathe.

The ease with which I could bring the mightiest beings to their knees.

It had been too much –tempting —too easy to lose myself in that intoxicating sense of absolute control. So I'd locked it away, buried it beneath layers of more manageable magic.

To keep me invisible as the weakling sister wishing for her sister to get better…

But now, watching Lord Bartholomew struggle against forces he can't possibly comprehend, I remember why this power exists. Not just for destruction or dominance, but for protection.

For standing against those who would abuse their authority, who would demean and diminish others simply because they can.

The gravitational field pulses stronger, and I catch glimpses of how it affects the others. Damien braces himself against a wall, his vampire strength barely keeping him upright. Nikolai's Fae magic shimmers around him like a protective shield, though I can see the strain on his face.

Even Mortimer seems affected, though he bears it with the stoic acceptance of one who's seen far worse.

Only Cassius appears relatively unmoved, his shadows dancing in patterns that almost seem to complement my power rather than fight it. The mark on my neck burns colder, and I swear I can feel his energy intertwining with mine, knitting something entirely new.

Something wicked.

Drawing strength from Cassius's subtle support, I release a dark chuckle before leaning down to whisper in Lord Bartholomew's ear. Though quiet, my words carry clearly through the pressurized air.

"And now look what has transpired. A man who belittles others, brought to his knees before a mere 'youngling' like me. Quite the predicament, wouldn't you agree?"

His attempts to speak come out as muffled sounds, and I catch the spike of fear in his eyes.

Another slow exhale escapes me as I continue.

"My father burned bridges with those who defied him. My mother commanded the dead and the souls of those who threatened her. Imagine what their combination might be capable of when provoked."

The panic blooming in Lord Bartholomew's eyes only encourages the sinister smile spreading across my face.

"You know nothing about me, Lord B. Be thankful for that, as this is merely a taste of what awaits those who think they can strut through these halls playing at being kings."

A laugh escapes me then, carrying notes of carefully controlled chaos.

"Consider yourself fortunate I'm in good spirits today, having reunited with my companion and his associates. Being among royalty can be daunting, but it serves asa reminder that I too come from a bloodline of considerable power.”I purposely let my final words pulse with magic that further project just how much “magic” I have at my disposal.

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