Page 73 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

That they would have to treat me poorly by default because that’s how it is…

I feel like an oddball thrown into an environment that I know nothing about, despite doing my initial research regarding the protocols and initial assumptions revolving around Wicked Academy.

Now, I’m finding out that could just be a layer of façade that’s pushed to the outside surface.

That leaves me feeling uneasy because if being “wicked” to one another is the true premise of this academic environment, I don’t think I’m going to last.

I have enough trauma on my plate.

The bickering continues as some point and laugh. Others call me the wicked Peter Pan which seems rather stupid, because what’s wrong with flying off a platform to avoid potential danger?

"Well, that's one less competitor to worry?—"

The final taunt dies unfinished as something massive and darker than the void itself materializes beside our pillar.

The movement is so fast it defies perception — one moment there's nothing but air, and the next a wall of pure darknesslarger than the pillar itself is sweeping toward us like death's own scythe.

Time seems to slow as I watch from my elevated position, suspended in that perfect moment between action and consequence.

Hundreds of faces turn toward the approaching darkness, their expressions shifting from amusement to horror in perfect synchronization.

The slate of shadow moves with impossible speed, but in that stretched moment before impact, I catch details that make my blood run cold:

Runes of ancient magic glowed along its surface like cruel stars, each one pulsing with malevolent purpose.

Edges sharp enough to cut reality itself, leaving trails of distorted space in their wake.

And worst of all — faces pressed against its surface from the inside, screaming silently as if trapped in eternal torment. Their features twist and writhe, a gallery of endless agony frozen in shadow.

Thisis what "survive" means in Wicked Academy.

No preparation.

No warning.

Just pure, merciless chaos designed to separate the worthy from the dead in the most efficient way possible.

And here I am…

Hovering above it all, watching the dark slate surge toward hundreds of unprepared students, I realize with crystal clarity that we haven't even reached the actual trial yet.

This is just the opening act.

13

THE TRIALS OF THE WICKED ELITES PART ONE

~GWENIVERE~

The deafening roar of crumbling stone fills the air as the slate of darkness smashes into the pillar beneath me.

The eerie runes etched into its surface pulse malevolently, devouring the magical barriers of those unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. I barely register the anguished cries of students being absorbed into the slate before the dark structure begins to rise again, towering over the remaining pillars like a monolith of despair.

Displacing the winds that are getting tricky to maintain, I allow myself to descend enough to grab a piece of stone that’s hovering in the magnitude of magic pulsing in the atmosphere. My heart rapidly drums against my chest, while my ears are ringing at the piercing intensity of the echoed screams of agony humming like an endless hymn.

I clutch the edge of the dissolving stone platform beneath me, the soles of my boots scraping against the crumbling surface. My breath catches as I glance around.

Fuck…

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