Page 45 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

"That depends entirely on you," she responds cryptically. "Year Two reveals truths rather than imposes falsehoods. What appears as transformation may simply be revelation of what always existed beneath convenient facades."

Interesting?

The philosophical non-answer does nothing to address practical concerns, yet suggests a deeper purpose behind Nikolai's changed state.

If Year Two truly "reveals truths," does that mean the Fae prince carried female aspects all along, hidden beneath male presentation? The possibility seems remote given everything I know about him, yet cannot be dismissed entirely given my own dual nature.

"And Gabriel?" Cassius inquires, shadows coiling with subtle protective intensity around my shoulders. "Why maintain that particular...facade?"

Eternalis's smile broadens slightly.

"The Academy recognizes appropriate moments for each revelation," she states, tone suggesting recitation of established policy rather than personal opinion. "Some truths emerge when circumstances demand, others when foundations have been properly established."

More cryptic philosophy that avoids direct explanation.

Her consistent evasion suggests either lack of complete information or deliberate policy regarding information distribution to advancing students. Either possibility warrants caution rather than confrontation at this stage.

"Rest," she advises, gesturing toward the door with jeweled fingernails that catch light in hypnotic patterns. "Recover from your trial. Classes begin tomorrow, and Year Two curriculum demands considerably more than what you've experienced thus far."

More than what we’ve experienced thus far.

The dread that already spreads must be felt by everyone in our group as an eerie silence follows her words.

With that ominous advice, she turns and proceeds back down the corridor, jewel-encrusted skirt catching light with each deliberately graceful step. The confidence in her departure suggests absolute certainty that we'll comply with implied instructions rather than immediately investigate our changed circumstances.

Atticus waits until she's fully out of earshot before speaking.

"That went well," he observes with dry sarcasm that breaks the tension gripping our group. "Nothing suspicious at all about any of this."

Nikolai – still visibly processing her transformation – manages a glare that carries all the aristocratic disdain of her male form despite altered features.

"Your talent for stating the obvious remains undiminished," she retorts, voice higher but inflection unchanged.

Before these two get into it, Mortimer further steps forward.

"Should we enter?" Mortimer inquires, scholarly practicality cutting through developing argument. "These corridors likely maintain surveillance comparable to Year One facilities."

The reminder of potential observation sobers us immediately.

Whatever private discussions need to occur should happen behind closed doors rather than exposed hallways, regardless of how suspicious immediate compliance might appear.

I approach the door, pendant warming further as proximity increases. The five symbols carved into the wooden surface pulse with subtle light as I near them – shadow for Cassius, gold for Nikolai, crimson for Atticus, dual hybrid markings for me, and scaled pattern for Mortimer.

"Recognition wards," I murmur, examining the magical construct without touching it directly. "Keyed to our specific signatures rather than generic student authorization."

"Advanced security," Cassius observes, shadows extending cautiously toward the door. "Far beyond Year One protocols."

"Or advanced monitoring," Atticus counters, crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Depends whether you consider us valued assets or potential threats. They used this type of ward and protections in lower prison wards. "

“Lower?” Cassius inquires.

“The lower you go, the more lethal a prisoner is,” Atticus reveals. “Don’t ask what level I was on. You won’t like it.”

As if that doesn’t leave me completely curious.

With careful deliberation, I place my palm against the door's central panel where the five symbols converge. The pendant at my throat pulses once, warmth spreading through my chest as magical recognition completes its verification cycle.

The door swings open silently, revealing our assigned quarters for Year Two – and whatever revelations await within those walls.

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