Page 84 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

“I can’t open my eyes,” I say quickly. “If I do, I’ll lose the connection.”

“Two minutes,” Nikolai announces, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “That’s all we’ve got.”

A chorus of curses echoes around me, but the tension solidifies into something sharper.

Determination.

It’s now or never.

I take a deep breath, letting the magic surge through me once more.

“Alright,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Let’s do this.”

My fingers spread wider, the threads of blood stretching further to wrap around the remaining slates.

Their surfaces pulse with dark energy, oozing a malevolence that makes my skin crawl. I can feel the magic pulling at me, threatening to unravel my control.

“Gabriel,” Nikolai’s voice comes softly, almost reverent. “Your magic…it’s incredible.”

I frown, barely able to focus on his words.

“Not the time for compliments, Nikolai.”

“No, really,” he says, a note of awe creeping into his tone. “You…you look radiant. Handsome, even.”

“Stop fucking admiring him and do your part,” Damien snaps, his voice tight with nerves.

“Says the one who isn’t doing what was asked of him,” Cassius replies coldly. “You talk a lot when you’re nervous, Damien.”

Damien growls, but I feel the weight of his hand on my arm, steadying me.

His grip is firm, and I can sense the hesitation in his movements before he leans closer. His breath brushes against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine. Then comes the sharp sting of his fangs piercing my arm. But instead of drawing blood, I feel a surge of warmth, a foreign energy pushing into me, merging with my own.

It’s strange and invasive but not unwelcome, and it bolsters my strength.

“Alright,” I warn, my voice tight with strain. “I’m going to launch it. Be ready for whatever happens next.”

The air around us grows heavier, the slates pulsing violently as if sensing the impending attack.

My threads glow brighter, trembling with the force of the magic coursing through them. I take one final breath, steadying myself for the inevitable chaos to come.

The words come unbidden, ancient, and unrelenting.

They flow into my mind like a raging river, each syllable burning as they escape my lips. The runes carved into my skin ignite, their glow searing bright enough to pierce the darkness. It’s as if they’re alive, consuming my energy as they pulse in rhythm with the incantation.

The blood strings surge forward, tightening their grip around the slates. The immense network of threads glows crimson, illuminating the void-like realm.

My body shakes with the force of it, my breathing faltering as an invisible weight presses down on my chest. I’m suffocating, yet I can’t stop. The cries of the trapped souls grow louder, each wail a dagger to my heart.

“Gabriel, you’re losing magic too fast!” Cassius’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and filled with worry.

I hear him, but his words feel distant, muted. My entire being is consumed by the screams, the pleas for freedom that echo around me.

And then I see them.

The souls trapped within the slates come into focus, their faint teal light flickering like dying embers.

They are packed tightly within the confines of their prison, their forms translucent and hollow. Some are young, barely more than children, their wide eyes filled with confusion and despair.

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