Page 56 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Atticus's laugh fills the room, rich with dark amusement and ancient power that makes the very foundations of our new livingspace vibrate in response. The sound carries harmonics that shouldn't exist in our realm — notes that speak of powers older than recorded history.

"It's far more than that, honestly," he says, watching Nikki with predatory satisfaction. "But that particular information is yours to discover. I'll give you a hint…these Faerie realm libraries should carry the answers regarding Gwenivere's...unique position in Wicked Academy's eyes."

The casual mention of Faerie libraries catches my scholarly attention.

Those archives are notoriously difficult to access, their knowledge protected by layers of magic that predate most modern paranormal societies. For Atticus to suggest they hold answers about Gwenivere implies connections far deeper than any of us suspected.

"You could just tell us!" Nikki protests, frustration evident in her voice.

The demand comes out higher-pitched than intended, another reminder of her altered state.

Atticus laughs again, the sound so enriched with power that the very walls tremble.

I exchange a wary look with Cassius, both of us sensing the dangerous undercurrents in that seemingly casual amusement. His shadows writhe with obvious unease, responding to powers that even Duskwalker abilities find disturbing.

"You'll never learn with such a childish mindset," Atticus chides, studying Nikki with something between disappointment and dark amusement. "I must admit, you weren't what I initially expected when I observed you. Wouldn't have been my first choice to allow near my Queen of Spades, but I suppose fate must see something in you worth preserving, given you've survived the challenges thus far."

The dismissive assessment of a Fae prince's worth would normally warrant immediate retaliation, but we all remain still, aware that normal hierarchies mean nothing in the face of what Atticus represents.

"You speak as if you orchestrated all of this," I observe carefully, academic curiosity warring with survival instinct. The implications of such long-term manipulation stagger the mind…how many events that seemed random might have been carefully arranged pieces in his grand design?

He shrugs, the gesture carrying centuries of casual power.

"Perhaps I didn't expect your lot to disbelieve her about the chalice. But then again," his gaze fixes on me with unsettling intensity, "even you, dragon scholar, don't know the true history of Wicked Academy and the tragic foundation that requires it remain male-only."

The statement hits like a physical blow. I've spent centuries studying this institution's history, yet something in his tone suggests depths I've never even suspected existed.

What tragedy could be powerful enough to enforce such rigid gender restrictions in an age of evolving magical society?

"What do you mean by that?" Cassius asks, his shadows coiling tighter with evident unease.

Even his Duskwalker nature, so attuned to darkness and hidden truths, seems disturbed by the implications.

Atticus exaggerates a yawn, stretching with feline grace that does nothing to disguise the predator beneath.

"I must depart…this particular manifestation rather taxes the body. Besides," his lips curve into that predatory smile, "I'm satisfied with my initial vengeance."

"Initial vengeance?" Nikki repeats, voice barely above a whisper. The fear in her tone speaks volumes — she who has faced countless court intrigues and magical challenges now trembles before this being of ancient power.

In a blur of movement that even my enhanced perception struggles to track, Atticus appears inches from Nikki's face. His smile turns diabolical, crimson eyes burning with ancient malice that makes the very air seem to darken.

"Consider this a mere taste of humiliation," he whispers, each word carrying deadly promise. "I'll allow Gwenivere to intervene if she wishes, but your suffering will barely scratch the surface. You'll learn exactly what happens to those who dare play games with my Queen on this grand chessboard."

The way he frames it —as a game of cosmic proportions—sends chills down my spine.

How many moves ahead has he planned? How many seemingly random events have been carefully orchestrated pieces in his strategy?

"My life isn't a game," Nikki manages to say, though her golden aura flickers with obvious fear.

The proud Fae prince who once commanded court attention with mere presence now seems small, vulnerable in ways that transcend physical transformation.

Atticus's grin widens impossibly.

"It becomes one the moment you believe you can harm what's mine. Let the events that come show you how a real man protects what he cherishes."

He pulls back, chuckling softly before snapping his fingers.

Another wave of steaming tea materializes, drenching Nikki completely. This time the liquid somehow bypasses her Fae barriers—a feat that should be impossible given the fundamental nature of Fae protection magic.

---