Page 17 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Above the dragon's head, symbols materialize in the air – numbers forming out of condensed magic. A countdown appears: 5:00, the seconds already beginning to tick away.

Beside it floats another number, a simple "5" that hangs ominously in the space above Mortimer's transformed body.

"That's how many can survive," Lysth calls, his crystalline voice cracking with the realization. "Five minutes to reach the platform, five survivors permitted."

"Two will fall," I murmur, the prophecy suddenly, horribly clear.

Fuck…

The platforms carrying us continue their inexorable drift away from the center, forcing an immediate decision: attempt to reach Mortimer's corrupted stronghold or drift into the volcanic abyss. The choice is no choice at all.

"We need to get to that platform," Nikolai states, his golden aura flaring as he prepares for the attempt.

"Through the dragon?" Mordax asks incredulously, his features paling to translucent white.

"Unless you'd prefer the lava bath," Atticus responds, his eyes never leaving Mortimer's transformed body. "He's guarding the only sanctuary available."

"Guardian turned gatekeeper," Cassius murmurs, his shadows coiling tighter with anticipation. "How poetic."

Our individual platforms have now drifted nearly thirty feet from the central mass where Mortimer looms. The corrupted dragon rotates slowly, purple gaze sweeping across us with predatory assessment, deciding which of us to target first.

Those eyes lock onto Mordax, perhaps sensing his injury makes him the most vulnerable. The shifter seems to realize his precarious position, his form rippling faster as he attempts to find a configuration that might withstand what's coming.

"Wait," he begins, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "We can talk about?—"

Mortimer strikes with devastating speed, his neck extending like a serpent to cross the gap between platforms. Massive jawssnap shut mere inches from where Mordax stood a heartbeat earlier, the shifter's enhanced reflexes barely saving him from immediate destruction.

"So much for negotiation!" Lysth calls, his crystalline body refracting the volcanic light into deadly-looking shards. "We fight our way through!"

The sylph launches himself from his platform, his translucent form catching updrafts from the lava below to propel him toward the central mass. Mortimer's attention shifts, tracking this new threat, but Lysth's airborne agility keeps him just beyond the dragon's reach.

Nikolai follows suit, golden light enveloping his perfect form as he leaps the impossible distance. Unlike Lysth, he doesn't rely on aerodynamics – raw fae power carries him across the void, his trajectory a graceful arc aimed directly at the obsidian sanctuary.

"Go!" Atticus shouts to me across the gap between our platforms. "I'll cover your approach!"

The distance stretches before me, far beyond what any human could jump.

But I'm not entirely human, am I?

The vampire blood in my veins offers enhanced strength and reflexes, while my witch lineage provides access to elemental manipulation.

I can potentially reach it…

Drawing on both aspects of my hybrid nature, I focus on the air currents swirling around us. With a gesture born of instinct rather than training, I condense the superheated updrafts into a concentrated path. The volcanic atmosphere responds, forming a barely-visible bridge of compressed air.

I launch myself forward, using the magical construct to guide my trajectory toward the central platform. Behind me, Atticusfollows, his movements carrying the lethal grace of a predator born to hunt.

Cassius takes a different approach altogether.

His platform explodes into shadow-stuff beneath his feet, the darkness carrying him like a wave across the chasm. The display of power is breathtaking, a reminder that for all his cold demeanor, the Duskwalker prince commands forces beyond ordinary comprehension.

Mortimer's corrupted attention divides between multiple approaching threats. His massive head swivels, tracking our converging paths with those sickening purple eyes.

A decision made, he lashes out again – this time at Mordax who still hasn't left his platform.

The dragon's tail sweeps across the gap, catching the shifter mid-leap. The impact is devastating, sending Mordax spinning through the air with a sickening crack of breaking bones. His body contorts unnaturally, his left side crumpling inward from the force of the blow.

"Mordax!" Lysth calls, altering his course to intercept the injured shifter's trajectory.

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