Page 26 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

"Fuck," I whisper, looking back to Atticus whose expression has transformed from shock to something approaching wonder. "We bonded..."

The realization hits me with physical force. The blood exchange during my rescue didn't just purify the corruption – it created a new connection. A bond like those I share with Cassius and Nikolai, but fundamentally different.

I’m bonded to a Pureblood…

A part of me knows this was the risk we took with him offering me his blood, but I guess because nothing ignited initially, I didn’t click on it.

Or maybe it did but as Gabriel I wouldn’t have initially noticed, especially wearing the new uniform pants…

Worry floods through me. I never intended this – never meant to tie Atticus to me as I'd accidentally done with the other princes, and that could mean he’s also stuck with me, which I wouldn’t necessarily mind if you list on a scale of who’d I’d rather be bonded to for the rest of my life.

However, it doesn’t mean he could like the implications. Would he resent this unexpected connection? Feel trapped by yet another consequence of helping me?

His response is nothing I could have anticipated.

A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth, crimson eyes gleaming with something between amusement and pride.

"I always knew I'd be your knight in shining armor, my Queen" he says with startling lightness given our dire circumstances. He spins around with almost gallant flair despite his corrupted state, adding, "Just a bit tainted and deranged, but definitely the whole package."

He’s absolutely insane. He must be…

Yet, his words meshed with acceptance, making my heart swell.

Thank you, Atticus.

I’d be lying if I pretended that his sudden appearance in all of this has eased the odds that may not have worked in my favor.

A groan escapes me, equal parts relief and exasperation.

"Yeah, right," I mutter, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness.

The room tilts sharply, my knees buckling as the corruption surges within me, fighting against Atticus's partial purification.

Before I can collapse, cool arms catch me from behind. Not Atticus – he stands before me, already turning toward the threat Mortimer presents. These arms belong to someone else, someone whose touch carries familiar shadows.

I turn my head, shock paralyzing me momentarily as I find myself gazing into hollow eye sockets set in a face of living darkness.

Grim stands there – not the miniature companion who rode on my shoulder, but a full-sized figure of imposing height. His form remains largely shrouded in darkness, a cape of midnight fabric blending seamlessly with the shadows comprising his body.

His hands should be freezing against my skin, given their ethereal nature, yet they warm perceptibly where they maintain their supportive grip. The sensation is oddly comforting despite its impossibility.

“Grim…” I stare at him in disbelief and then back at Atticus. "How are you doing this?" I whisper, my gaze darting toward Cassius who battles at the platform's edge. The Duskwalker prince's shadows swirl around him, including the distinctive form of his shadow companion – Grim's original manifestation. "Cassius is still using his Duskwalker abilities, which means you're..."

My voice trails off as comprehension dawns. I don’t know if it’s because of the way he smirks in reply or the twinkle of shadows I catch flickering along his aura that makes my brain think far faster than I can comprehend. The impossible pieces arrange themselves into a pattern I should have recognized sooner.

Atticus looks over his shoulder, pride evident in his red eyes. One finger rises to where lips, signaling for silence regarding this revelation.

Can he…copy others’ abilities?

Not just mimic them, but somehow duplicate powers he encounters. The mini version with Grim that led everyone astray in the beginning, to this full-sized manifestation helping me – they're both Grim, yet somehow independent.

The implications stagger me.

Such an ability would be coveted by every faction in the paranormal world, hunted by those who would use it to consolidate power or eliminate rivals. No wonder he's kept his true nature hidden behind the façade of a simple shadow companion.

Before I can process this further, Mortimer's roar shakes the entire platform. The corrupted dragon rises to his full height, purple eyes scanning our scattered group with predatory assessment.

The wordCOMPLETEDcontinues to glow above his head, a mockery of our ongoing struggle.

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