Page 89 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

I blink, and suddenly, I’m staring at my reflection.

Above me, a portal shimmers to life, its surface rippling like dark water. The image it shows is haunting.

My body is wrapped in tendrils of shadow, their inky blackness crawling up my limbs and torso like vines seeking to consume me. Each rune on my skin pulses with a desperateintensity, their light flickering as they fight against the encroaching darkness.

But for every inch of light they gain, the shadows take another.

My body burns, the searing pain almost unbearable. But then, the fire fades, replaced by a creeping numbness. It spreads slowly, starting in my fingertips and toes, crawling upward like a sinister tide.

The darkness is winning, its suffocating grip closing in around me.

Malcolm watches me with a predator’s gaze, his smile never wavering.

“It’s been so long since I’ve had prey as perfect as you,” he says, his voice almost reverent. “These royal princes…they’ve finally proven useful. They brought you to me.”

I frown, confusion cutting through the haze of pain.

“What are you… talking about?” I whisper.

Malcolm chuckles a sound that sends shivers down my spine.

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he says. “After all, you’re the most fascinating piece on this board. And it’s time for you to meet your destiny.”

The suffocating grip of Malcolm’s shadows presses down on my chest, and the fire in my veins begins to flicker.

The world grows faint, a muted cacophony of screams and whispers clawing at the edges of my consciousness.

My eyes feel too heavy to open, and the pain…it’s all-encompassing, a searing, biting thing that gnaws at my very core.

And then, I hear her voice.

“Gwenivere.”

It’s soft, barely a whisper, but it cuts through the storm raging inside me like a beacon.

My mind grasps it, desperate for something—anything—to anchor me. The darkness shifts, unraveling into a swirl of faint light, and suddenly, I’m standing somewhere else entirely.

I’m not on the battlefield.

I’m in a graveyard.

The scent of damp earth fills my nose, and the air is heavy with the weight of stillness.

Before me stands a pair of grand tombstones, their surfaces polished to a mirror sheen, glowing faintly with intricate runes carved into their faces. The runes hum softly, a melody of ancient magic that resonates deep within me as if the stones themselves are alive and aware of my presence.

My parents’ names are etched into the stone, their elegance stark against the simplicity of the surroundings.

The magic woven into the inscriptions is intricate, so powerful that the runes seem to shift and shimmer when I stare at them for too long.

“Why am I here?” I murmur, my voice trembling.

I feel a warmth in my hand, and I glance down to see my fingers intertwined with another’s.

I look up, and there she is…

Elena.

Her familiar features are soft, her expression tinged with sadness as she gazes at the tombstones. The sight of her makes my heart ache, a bittersweet longing that catches me off guard.

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