Page 76 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

A fresh wave of tainted bees swarms toward me, their stingers glinting ominously.

I don’t have the energy to summon another tornado, so I reach deeper, calling on the part of me that I’ve tried to keep hidden. Sometimes you got to use fire against fire to see who can burn out faster.

If I’m going to perish, no way am I doing it without pulling every string of defiance to heighten my chances in survival.

Magic flows through me, wild and untamed. The air around me crackles with electricity, and with a flick of my wrist, a bolt of lightning arcs out, striking the swarm and disintegrating them in an explosion of light and shadow.

The effort leaves me gasping, but I’m still standing.

For now.

Magic has always been my forte, not because of the coursing energies given to me from the unique combination of forbidden partnerships, but because of the rare ability to create based off visibility.

Imagination and creation in heightened capabilities of creating anything I put my mind to, which is such a rare trait for any magic user to accomplish.To execute and initiate it correctly without grave consequences.I may have the power to strike this thing down once and for all, but that could risk me dying in a few short heartbeats, too.

I feel fucking screwed at this point…

The slate of darkness shifts, its runes glowing brighter as it releases another wave of attacks. This time, the air itself seems to warp, distorting reality and making it harder to focus. I feel the pull of its malevolent energy, trying to draw me in, but I resist, anchoring myself with sheer willpower.

“You want me?” I growl, glaring at the slate. “Come and get me.”

The pillar beneath me gives one final groan before collapsing entirely. As I plummet into the abyss, I channel the wind once more, propelling myself toward the nearest stable platform.

“Motherfucker,” I curse, my landing less than graceful. My knees buckling as I hit the stone, but I’m alive.Barely. Catching my breath, I’m looking around the chaos as students are running while others are doing the sign of whatever spiritual belief they believe in before they deliberately jump off the pillar to their ends.

The sight is mind boggling to think these men who were cocky and bold, speaking of how powerful they are, accepting their ends and plummeting to their deaths. I can’t imagine doing that to myself because despite the pride and cockiness I gained from being Gabriel, I could never discard the life I worked so hard to keep.

Despite all the challenges I’ve gone through to keep Elena breathing long enough for me to reach this striking moment of time, I could never end my life on my own accords with suicide. I would rather die trying than give up.

Fuck all that shit.

I’m a fighter to the end…and if that means dying alone in this makeshift world of death…so be it.

I rise to my feet, my body trembling with exhaustion. The slate looms above, its runes pulsating with a sickening rhythm. It’s coming for me. I can feel it.

But I’m not done yet.

If this trial wants to break me, it’ll have to try harder.

Gritting my teeth, I square my shoulders and prepare for the next attack. Around me, the battlefield is a symphony of chaos and despair, but I refuse to be just another victim.

Not today.

The swarm of tainted bees thickens, a cloud of malevolence blotting out the faint, sickly light that filters through the chaos. Their stingers glow an eerie green, and the sound of their collective wings is a bone-chilling hum that vibrates deep in my chest.

My muscles tense as I brace for the inevitable.

I’ll die a fighter. That’s what matters…not a failure.

Then, without warning, the air shifts.

The oppressive darkness around me seems to recoil, replaced by a wall of writhing shadows that erupts behind me, swallowing the swarm whole. The bees’ hum turns into a cacophony ofsharp, splintering cracks as the shield of shadows condenses, crushing the insects into piles of coal-like fragments that fall uselessly to the dissolving pillar.

I whirl around, heart pounding, to see Grim emerging from the darkness. His form is like a void given shape, a mass of swirling shadows that seem both solid and incorporeal. His eyes—if they can be called that—are glowing pinpricks of light that pierce through the gloom, locking onto me with a strange intensity.

“Grim?” I breathe, my voice cracking with a mix of surprise and relief. My head turns too quickly, the sudden motion sending a wave of dizziness crashing over me.

I sway, my knees threatening to give out beneath me.

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