Page 16 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

“Then what did it do?” Nikolai demands, but he looks to Cassius as his shadows begin to form behind him, until the Duskwalker being, hovers like a predator ready to strike.

“It tainted the best weapon we had,” Cassius declares in realization, in his eyes darkening as his attention is on Mortimer. “And now we’re its prey.”

Corrupted Guardian

~GWENIVERE~

"Mortimer?" I call hesitantly, a sense of wrongness crawling up my spine as our platforms drift further apart.

The dragon's massive head swivels toward me, ancient eyes meeting mine across the widening gap. What I see there sends ice through my veins – profound sadness, yes, but something else. Something foreign taking root, corrupting the intelligence I've come to respect.

"I apologize in advance, Gwenivere,"he responds, his mental voice distorted like sound through murky water.

"What does he mean by that?" Mordax questions, still clutching his injured leg, confusion etched across his ever-shifting features.

"What's wrong?" Nikolai demands, frustration evident in the tightening of his perfect jaw.

Lysth's crystalline form catches the volcanic light as he leans forward on his platform.

"Something is wrong with the dragon," he observes, stating aloud what I've already recognized with growing horror.

My gaze finds Atticus across the divide, his stance widening as he prepares for combat. The predatory instincts honed from being held captive in that prison must help him recognize the threat before any of us fully comprehend it.

"We fucked up," he declares, crimson eyes darkening to the color of old blood. "That cloud did more than try to kill us."

"Then what did it do?" Nikolai demands, turning toward Cassius whose shadows have begun to manifest behind him in undulating waves of darkness.

The Duskwalker prince hovers like a specter of death, his silver eyes narrowing as understanding dawns.

"It tainted the best weapon we had," he states with grim certainty. "And now we're its prey."

Mortimer's aura has transformed before my eyes, the once-stable energy signature now writhing with chaotic patterns. Where his magical essence previously carried the orderly sophistication of ancient knowledge, now it fractures and splinters into jagged shards of corrupted power.

"His energy signature is destabilizing," I announce, tracking the rapid deterioration. "The cloud must have infected him…corrupted his draconic magic."

"Can we reverse it?" Lysth calls from his platform, which has drifted nearly fifteen feet away.

Atticus shakes his head, his expression grave.

"Not without understanding the nature of the corruption. And we don't have that kind of time."

"Mortimer," Nikolai attempts, his voice carrying that commanding tone royalty learns from birth. "Speak to us through the mental link. You’re one of the Seven! Chosen due to your ancient knowledge and capabilities. Fight whatever's happening to you, dammit!"

The dragon that was once our scholarly companion responds with a roar that shakes the very air around us.

His head tilts back, massive jaws parting to reveal rows of serrated teeth now dripping with viscous black fluid. His eyes roll backward, revealing nothing but inky darkness before new pupils form – vertical slits of sickening purple that pulse with malevolent intelligence.

Before our horrified gaze, Mortimer's majestic scales begin to change.

The deep crimson with gold undertones that spoke of ancient nobility now shifts to a sickly, pustulent green. The transformation spreads like infection, consuming the dragon's form from head to tail in a wave of corrupted magic.

Another roar erupts, this one carrying frequencies that assault our nervous systems directly. I clamp my hands over my ears, but the sound penetrates bone and tissue, reverberating through my skull with excruciating precision.

"Fuck!" Mordax screams, his shifting form rippling uncontrollably as the sonic attack disrupts his ability to maintain coherence.

Our platforms continue drifting apart, the distance between us growing with each passing second. The volcanic landscape below offers no salvation – just bubbling lava and certain death. The only solid surface remains the central section where Mortimer's transformed body now thrashes with newfound malevolence.

As we watch, the obsidian beneath his claws warps and reforms, expanding outward to create a new platform large enough to accommodate his massive form with room to spare. Runes carve themselves into its surface, glowing with poisonous purple light that matches his transformed eyes.

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