Page 104 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

His smile dims slightly, though doesn't disappear entirely.

"No," he admits simply, honesty offered without defensiveness or self-pity. "But I can't return to my normal form."

"Why not?" The question emerges immediately, curiosity overwhelming caution that might have suggested a more diplomatic approach. "What shifter are you?"

Zeke's hand rises to his neck in seemingly unconscious gesture, fingers tracing an absent pattern against his skin as if seeking something missing – collar, perhaps, or a pendant that should hang there. The movement carries a wistful quality that suggests habitual comfort-seeking rather than deliberate communication.

"I'm simply a cat," he states finally, hand dropping back to his side with conscious effort to cease the searching motion. "Ibelonged to a prince. Well, that was whom I was going to be assigned to."

His gaze shifts to middle distance, his focus turning inward to memories rather than present surroundings.

"I was originally assigned to a royal family, typical in the realms of Fae," he continues, voice taking on a cadence that suggests recitation of facts rather than emotional narrative despite the deeply personal nature of disclosure. "It wasn't uncommon for cats to be given to those shifters who could use magic. Hybrids, in a sense, but some shifter cultures didn't like calling them that."

His eyes refocus on me, present once more rather than lost in recollection.

"Like Dark Fae can use dark magic," he elaborates, "but they wouldn't label themselves as hybrids."

The explanation triggers immediate connection to a recent encounter, pieces falling into place with satisfying precision.

"Like Raven in Damien's crew?" I suggest, testing my hypothesis against his apparently extensive knowledge of Faerie classifications.

"Sort of," he confirms with a slight nod that suggests partial rather than complete accuracy in my assessment. "Though she has buried secrets."

Curiosity about Raven's true nature surges forward, questions forming about what connection she might represent in an increasingly complex network of relationships surrounding my search for the chalice.

Before I can voice these inquiries, however, Zeke continues his own narrative, focus apparently fixed on completing the explanation he began.

"I was assigned to aid a specific Dark Fae family," he explains, resuming his previous thread without acknowledging my brief tangent into Raven's circumstances. "The familyyearned for her to finally accept herself. They sent her to Wicked Academy, which she assumed was punishment, given how Wicked Academy is generally perceived."

His expression softens with what might be fondness or perhaps regret – difficult to distinguish given the subtle nature of his emotional displays.

"She managed to reach here, and with Year Two, there are two paths you can take."

The structure of his statement suggests important revelations approaching – culmination of narrative that explains both his current circumstances and cryptic self-identification as "sacrifice" mentioned earlier.

"Acceptance," I state, recognizing the pattern from his previous explanation about Year Two's fundamental purpose.

Zeke nods, confirmation accompanied by a slight smile that acknowledges my correct interpretation. Then his expression shifts to something more solemn, the final piece of puzzle about to fall into place.

"And sacrifice."

The word hangs between us, heavy with implications not yet fully articulated but clearly significant in understanding both Zeke's circumstances and potentially my own path through Wicked Academy's complex trials.

My mind races to connect disparate pieces of information gathered since entering this golden corridor.

Zeke has revealed himself as a cat shifter assigned to a Dark Fae family, made reference to a female member who entered Wicked Academy, noted his current inability to return to "normal form" despite an environment that supposedly permits true self-expression, and his cryptic designation as "sacrifice" contrasted with "acceptance" as Year Two's apparently divergent paths.

"You were her familiar," I conclude, making an intuitive leap connecting scattered details into coherent narrative. "The Dark Fae student's magical companion, meant to help her navigate academy challenges."

Zeke neither confirms nor denies this assessment, expression remaining carefully neutral despite the personal nature of discussion. His silence prompts me to continue assembling puzzle pieces aloud, testing theories against his reactions rather than waiting for direct confirmation.

"But something went wrong," I suggest, studying his features for minute reactions that might indicate accuracy or error in my reconstruction. "Instead of serving as her familiar, you became a sacrifice…though I don't yet understand what that actually means in practical terms."

His gaze drops momentarily before returning to meet mine with renewed directness that suggests a decision to share information previously withheld.

"Sacrifice means different things depending on context," he explains, voice taking on a quality of academic precision that reminds me unexpectedly of Mortimer's scholarly expositions. "In Year Two specifically, it represents substitution of one being's suffering for another's advancement."

The clinical description carries disturbing implications, the Academy apparently sanctioning what sounds dangerously close to ritualized abuse under academic terminology.

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