Page 68 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

"What?" I ask, my voice now carrying that deeper timbre. "Is something wrong?"

"Your eyes," Damien says slowly. "They're still red."

"Shit." I concentrate, trying to adjust that detail, but something feels…different. The magic responds sluggishly, refusing to completely change my eye color. "I can't seem to?—"

"Leave them," Cassius interrupts. His shadows reach out, brushing against my face with surprising gentleness. "They suit you."

The simple comment shouldn't make my heart race, but here we are.

Get it together, Gwen. You're supposed to be Gabriel right now.

"We should move," Mortimer says, though his eyes linger on me thoughtfully. "The trials won't wait forever."

Nodding, I turn to face the wall of shadow before us. Now that I'm closer, I can see patterns moving within its depths — shapes and symbols that seem to shift and change when viewed directly.

"So," I say, affecting a casualness I don't quite feel. "Do we just...walk through it?"

"Not quite." Nikolai moves to stand beside me again, his presence oddly reassuring. "We need to enter as a unit. Connected."

I arch an eyebrow at him.

"Connected how exactly?"

Instead of answering, he simply holds out his hand. On my other side, Cassius does the same. Damien steps up behind me with a put-upon sigh, placing his hand on my shoulder.

Mortimer takes position at the front of our group, his power rising around him like a visible aura.

"Remember," he says seriously. "Once we enter, everything changes. The trials will test not just your abilities, but your trust in each other." His gaze fixes on me. "Are you ready?"

I look at each of them in turn — these impossible princes and their death magic professor. None of this was part of my plan. I came here for a chalice, not a magical marriage or a spot in some elite royal unit.

But as I feel Nikolai's fingers interlace with mine, as Cassius's shadows wrap around our joined hands like living bonds, as even Damien's grip on my shoulder carries a certain reluctant solidarity...

I’m not sure I can convince myself to depart so easily when these trials are over with.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I declare.

Now or never.

Together, we step into the darkness.

12

HEIGHTS AND HIERARCHIES

~GWENIVERE~

Wind whips around us with savage intensity, the kind of fierce current that only exists at impossible heights.

From my position on the highest pillar, Wicked Academy looks like a child's plaything — all its imposing architecture and ancient majesty reduced to miniature by sheer elevation.

Don't look down…

Those three words become a mantra in my head, though my enhanced vision can't help but calculate the dizzying distance between us and solid ground.

Way too high up for my fondness.

The pillar beneath my feet thrums with old magic, its surface carved with runes that pulse in a steady rhythm. Despite its size — easily large enough to accommodate several hundred students — the space feels uncomfortably tight with so many bodies pressed together.

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