Page 77 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

Strong hands catch me before I can hit the ground.

Cassius.

His cold, shadow-laden presence wraps around me like a second skin, his grip firm but not harsh. I blink up at him, and the stern frown etched into his features is the first thing I register.

“You’re poisoned,” he says flatly, his silver eyes narrowing as they scan my face. “What were you thinking?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I snap, trying to shrug him off. “Maybe I was just trying not to die. Not that it’s any of your business.”

His grip tightens slightly, pulling me closer as his gaze sharpens.

“It becomes my business when you’re apparently bonded to a Duskwalker jerk like me.”

My breath catches, the words slicing through the haze of pain and exhaustion clouding my mind.

I open my mouth to retort, but the dizziness returns with a vengeance, forcing me to lean heavily against him. My vision blurs, and for a moment, all I can do is focus on the cool steadiness of his touch.

Cassius frowns, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“Stop fighting me and lean, Gabriel. You’re pale, and you’re burning through magic at a reckless pace. You won’t last much longer like this.” Him scolding me should feel more out of concern than mockery but man, my insight must be different as a male because I feel insulted by the gesture.

“I’m fine,” I huff, though the sweat dripping down my temple and the trembling in my limbs betray the lie. “But what are we going to do about this trial? The slate…it’s…”

I trail off, the words caught in my throat as a new wave of nausea surges through me. Grim shifts in the corner of my vision, his shadows rippling as he intercepts another wave of tainted bees. They dissolve against his shield like ash scattered by the wind, but even his power seems strained, the edges of his form flickering with faint instability.

“What about the slate?” Cassius presses, his tone low but urgent. “What do you know?”

I take a steadying breath, forcing the nausea down as I meet his gaze.

“It’s feeding off the students. The ones who fall…they’re not completely gone. The slate’s absorbing their essence, their magic. That’s why it keeps growing stronger. It’s using their souls to thrive.”

Cassius’s expression darkens, his grip on me tightening as if to anchor himself.

“If that’s true, then we…”

“We have to stop it,” I say firmly, my voice steadier now. “If it’s feeding off their magic, then destroying the slate might free them. But it’s too strong as long as it’s connected to those souls. We need to sever that connection.”

Cassius’s frown deepens, his silver eyes flickering with thought.

“Severing the connection could destabilize the entire trial. We’d be risking everything.”

“And if we don’t?” I counter, my voice rising. “More students will die. Or worse—become fuel for that thing. Do you want that on your conscience?”

I doubt he cares, but I mean, even if we’re supposed to not give a shit, the idea of those souls being stuck forever in the slate for the next set of trials to gather students like collectable cards doesn’t sit well with me.

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the ground as he processes my words. Grim intercepts another attack, his shadows weaving into a protective barrier that deflects a volley of darkness-infused arrows. Despite his efforts, the air is thick with tension, the slate’s runes glowing brighter as it prepares another onslaught.

“Fine,” Cassius says at last, his voice low but resolute. “But what about the bees? We can’t fight the slate and deal with those swarms at the same time.”

I glance at the mass of writhing shadows still hovering in the distance, their stingers glinting like poisonous daggers. My stomach twists at the sight, but I force myself to think.

“The arrows…Grim can handle them. His power is rooted in shadow, just like theirs. But the bees…” I shake my head, frustration bubbling to the surface. “The bees are going to be a problem. I don’t have the energy to summon another storm, and we can’t rely on Grim alone to hold them back.”

Cassius studies me for a moment, his frown softening into something almost unreadable.

“You need to stop pushing yourself. Just for a moment.”

“I can handle it,” I snap, but my body betrays me. My knees buckle, and I barely manage to catch myself before I fall. A string of curses leaves my lips as strong arms catch me from behind, steadying me once again.

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