Page 44 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Atticus maintains position slightly behind us, creating a formation that places me at center with my bond mates positioned strategically around.

The arrangement feels natural rather than forced, our group unconsciously adopting a defensive posture appropriate for unknown territory.

Even Mortimer, typically independent in his movements, integrates himself into our loose formation with a scholar's precision.

The corridor stretches before us, unfamiliar despite architectural similarities to Year One spaces.

The lighting carries subtle differences – warmer tones that should feel welcoming but somehow amplify shadows in ways that create unsettling depth. Decorative elements incorporate more organic patterns than the strict geometric designs dominating previous areas, vines and flowers reminiscent of the gate's ornamentation appearing with increasing frequency as we proceed.

My pendant continues its gentle pulse against my skin, the magical energy signature shifting subtly as we move deeper into Year Two territory.

The sensation isn't unpleasant but carries unmistakable warning – these new spaces recognize and respond to our advancement tokens, adjusting ambient magical fields accordingly. Whatever monitoring systems track student movements have acknowledged our official status change.

We’re going to have to learn all of this swiftly if we want to adapt and be ready for the swiftness of this potential year.

I’m unsure how things will roll this time around.

Will we have classes? Attend a few seminars before we’re thrown down the rabbit hole again.

I’m so wrapped up in my head, that it takes Atticus’ hand that ends up wrapping around mine to pull me out of the unexpected spiraling. I’m still keeping up my strides and following, but I guess my mind wandered far and fast for Atticus to notice my unease.

He doesn’t say anything, even though I’m sure this may look awkward with two male students holding hands so boldly, but I guess it doesn’t matter since I haven’t seen anyone else aside from our group thus far.

I doubt Atticus even cares or else he wouldn’t have initiated this.

Lightly squeezing his hand back, I’m thankful to have his support thus far.

I glance at Nikolai again, wondering how her transformation affects the bond between us. The mark above my heart –currently hidden beneath Gabriel's masculine glamour matched with the obvious buttoned dress shirt of this uniform– maintains its warmth and connection, but with altered resonance that matches her changed energy signature.

Not weakened but different, like an instrument retuned to a new key while playing the same melody.

Similarly, Cassius's bond at my neck and Atticus's mark at my wrist and the newly acquired ones on my thighs continue their respective pulses without disruption, suggesting fundamental connections transcend physical transformations.

This resilience offers reassurance amid unsettling changes – whatever manipulations Year Two imposes, our bonds remain intact.

Professor Eternalis leads us around another corner, her stride confident and unhurried. The casual pace suggests no immediate danger awaits, yet tension radiates from my companions with increasing intensity as we proceed. Something about this transition feels fundamentally wrong beyond the obvious transformations – underlying wrongness we can sense but not yet identify.

Mortimer catches my eye briefly, scholarly gaze communicating subtle warning. Whatever occurred during our dimensional separation left him with knowledge he hasn't shared, information that makes him view our advancement with warranted suspicion rather than academic satisfaction.

The subtle head shake he offers suggests questions should wait until we're beyond Eternalis's immediate supervision.

The pendant at my throat warms further as we approach what appears to be a residential area – dormitories for YearTwo students based on architectural cues similar to Year One housing but with noticeable upgrades in both security features and comfort elements.

The advancement tokens seem to respond to proximity, perhaps keyed to specific locations within Academy grounds.

I catalog details automatically, mind operating on parallel tracks – conscious observation of immediate surroundings and deeper consideration of implications regarding Nikolai's transformation, Mortimer's displaced consciousness during the trial, and the mysterious "Lord" Lysth mentioned before his death.

Each element suggests patterns I can't quite grasp yet, connections obscured by deliberate misdirection rather than coincidental complexity.

Eternalis stops before a door larger and more ornately decorated than surrounding entrances. Unlike the standardized accommodations of Year One, this portal suggests customization specific to its intended occupants – our group particularly, based on the five symbols carved into its surface that correspond to our respective magical signatures.

"Your shared quarters," she announces with practiced professionalism that doesn't quite mask the satisfaction underlying her tone. "Adjusted to accommodate your unique...situation."

The emphasis on that final word draws my attention. Nikki stiffens slightly, newly feminine features arranging themselves into carefully neutral expression that doesn't quite hide the calculation occurring behind those green-gold eyes.

"Is this transformation permanent?" she asks directly, gesturing to her altered form with elegant precision.

Eternalis's mismatched eyes gleam with something approaching amusement.

---