Page 60 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

"Are you trying to fill my room with roses?"

My eyes snap open, taking in the transformed space. Damien's previously stark chamber now overflows with blooming roses, their sweet fragrance filling the air with intoxicating luxury. The scent brings with it a sense of rejuvenation, of life and vitality.

Looking down at myself, I'm stunned by how my magic has amplified. I've never been able to summon natural life so swiftly, and these aren't ordinary roses. Their petals shimmer with otherworldly beauty, each bloom perfect beyond mortal possibility.

"Rosa Eternalis," Mortimer identifies them, his voice carrying that professor's tone. "They only bloom in the heart of Faerie, requiring intense magical saturation to maintain stability. The petals are used in resurrection rituals, while the thorns..." He trails off, studying the phenomenon with academic interest.

Gwenivere's eyes open slowly, heavy-lidded and slightly unfocused at first. But I can see the contentment in them — the desperate hunger finally sated.

As she takes in her surroundings, realization dawns on her face.

She retracts her fangs quickly, gasping at the sight.

"Are you okay?" The concern in her voice is genuine, touching even.

"A bit light-headed," I admit. "But I'll be fine in a few minutes."

A blush colors her cheeks.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It didn't feel bad," I confess, surprised by my own honesty. "At all."

Her sigh of relief is audible.

"Did it...taste good?" I find myself asking.

"Like drinking liquid starlight," she says dreamily. "And I saw things…images flooding my mind. That's never happened before. It was like being inside a fairytale."

I can't help the smirk that forms. Leaning in close, I don’t hesitate to ask what’s humming through my mind.

"You've never been to Faerie before, have you?"

When she shakes her head, I let my voice drop lower.

"I'll have to take you someday." The words carry more weight than intended, but I can't bring myself to regret them. "You look much better now."

Her blush deepens beautifully.

"Thank you for your generosity."

Before she can say more, Cassius's hand appears between us, pushing my face away with surprising gentleness.

"Go get ready," he tells her. "We need to leave."

She pouts —an expression that shouldn't be as charming as it is.

"I am ready. I don't understand why?—"

"You haven't eaten anything," he interrupts.

As if on cue, her stomach growls loudly. The sound makes her blush again, and I find myself fascinated by how often she can shift between powerful and endearing.

"You're right," she admits sheepishly. "I'll go grab an apple or something."

"I ordered breakfast," Cassius states. "It should be waiting on a tray by the door."

Surprise flickers across her features, followed by genuine warmth. "Thank you." Her gaze sweeps across all of us. "You should all eat something too." Her eyes linger on me. "Especially you."

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