Page 91 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard, struggling to find my voice.

“How?” I ask, my words barely audible. “How do I do this? How do I survive?”

Elena’s smile is faint but filled with quiet strength.

“Open your heart,” she says. “Not to love in the usual sense of affection and harmony, but to something deeper. Words are fleeting, but actions are everything. Remember that. Always.”

The world around us begins to fade, the vibrant colors draining into a grayscale void. My heart pounds as I grip her hands tightly, desperate to hold on.

“Will I ever see you again?” I whisper, my voice trembling. It’s odd to think as though this is the last time I’ll see her. It doesn’t make sense, impossible to comprehend in this state of unwavering certainty, but I can only hope she won’t flicker away from me.

Pray I’ll remember why we’re not together again…

Elena laughs softly, the sound bittersweet.

“You’ll have no choice but to see me again,” she says. “I’m your purpose in this wild chase wayward. But be confident, Gwenivere. Generations of magic chose you for a reason. Your purpose has no choice but to prosper. No matter what.”

Chose me? When…where…how?

Suddenly, I wonder how I acquired the power that coursed through me. The magic I’ve been so comfortable manipulating into my favor.

The rooted essence of power that pushed me into thinking I can come here…wherever that “here” is.

“Farewell, little sister.”

Her words echo in my mind as the last traces of her form fade into the void.

I’m left alone, the stillness pressing down on me as I struggle to comprehend the weight of her message. The darkness begins to shift again, pulling me back toward the waking world.

Little sister.

But…I’m the older one…aren’t I?

15

THE TRIALS OF THE WICKED ELITES PART THREE

~GWENIVERE~

Darkness presses against my senses, a suffocating weight that refuses to lift.

My body feels heavy, immovable, as if submerged in a pool of thick, unyielding tar.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, a pulse echoes — a faint rhythm matching the sluggish beat of my heart. It nags at me, whispering to breathe, to fight, to survive.

A shrill hiss pierces the silence, dragging me from the edge of unconsciousness.

My eyelids flutter, heavy and burdened, but the sound drives me to push against the overwhelming fatigue. When my eyes finally crack open, I’m met with a sight so jarring it freezes the breath in my lungs.

A massive snake looms inches from my face, its hollow eyes pits of endless darkness.

The slits of its pupils glow an eerie green, tinged with streaks of purple that pulse like living veins. Its black scales shimmer faintly in the dim light, blending seamlessly into the oppressive darkness around us.

Its aura is so immense, so overwhelmingly malevolent, that it feels as though the very environment is an extension of the creature itself.

The snake hisses again, its forked tongue flicking out to taste the air. The sound is sharp and grating, a sinister promise of its intent. It lashes forward, its fanged maw aimed directly at me, but an unseen force halts its advance.

A barrier flares to life, its pulse bright and defiant against the encroaching shadow. The impact sends ripples through the barrier, forcing the serpent to recoil with a furious hiss.

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