Page 2 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Instead, she steps into me, her arms wrapping around my waist with surprising strength. I smile, embracing her in return, understanding the need that drives her.

After everything she's endured –the public humiliation, the betrayal of her bond mates, the resurfacing trauma– sometimes what's needed most is simply to be held by someone who won't pretend not to see your suffering.

My eyes half-close as I rest my chin atop her head, breathing in the scent of her – clean now, but I can still recall the stench of what they did to her.

My vow solidifies in that moment, crystallizing into something unbreakable.

I’ll ruin all of them.

Little by little.

Striking when they least expect to be taken down…

I will be the knight to her vengeance, starting with making every last one of them suffer. The vampire prince who poured filth over her head, the supposed bond mates who watched without helping, the students who laughed and recorded her humiliation – all of them will learn what happens when you mistake kindness for weakness.

When you push a survivor past her breaking point.

When you turn a Queen into your enemy.

The mark on her collarbone pulses with my determination, and I feel her respond to it – her breathing syncing with mine, her heartbeat finding the same rhythm. Magic flows between us, ancient and primal, nothing like the elegant bonds formed through fae ritual or duskwalker connection.

Their marks were premature. Only the beginning of the evolving dynamic that should portray their undying commitment to their bonded mate in question, but mine is at the brink of true potential…on the verge of blossoming and showing all those who question loyalty, how grand and powerful a force it can be.

This is old magic.Blood magic.The kind that reminds the world why vampires were feared long before we learned to hide our nature behind aristocratic masks and pretty manners.

The academy wanted wickedness?

We'll show them wickedness.

Starting with those who dared mock the scars on my Queen's flesh. Who thought they could break her spirit with their juvenile torments. Who failed to recognize the strength it took for her to survive everything that came before.

Everything that made her mine.

"Let's go," she whispers finally, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. The determination in her eyes mirrors my own, and I know in that moment that Year Two won't know what hit it.

Wicked Academy is about to learn why the Queen of Spades is the most dangerous card in the deck.

The burning message flares one final time before dissipating into embers that float around us like crimson fireflies.

The path ahead shimmers into existence, cutting through the lava landscape toward our future – toward vengeance.

Hand in hand, we step forward, leaving behind the last vestiges of mercy.

Year Two has begun.

And so has our revenge.

The Path Forward

~GWENIEVERE~

The path stretches before us, winding through landscapes that shouldn't exist outside of fever dreams. Ahead lies our starting point – I can sense it, a convergence of magical energy that tugs at my awareness like a beacon in darkness.

My attention shifts to the uniform now clothing my body.

The Year Two attire differs dramatically from the understated elegance of Year One. Leather pants cling to my legs like a second skin, paired with a blazer that's structured yet allows for movement. Golden accents trace the seams, catching the light of the surrounding lava pools with every step.

The environment itself feels like stepping inside a living volcano – gold, orange, and brown hues dominate, with occasional swirls of purple mist shooting from the ground in funnel-shaped vents.

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