Page 60 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Nikki's current form might be the academy's doing, but the lessons it forces her to learn feel distinctly Fae in nature.

"The Academy of the Wicked will only continue to test us," I continue, watching understanding settle in Cassius's silver eyes. "We must be resilient, now more than ever."

"Agreed," he says simply, turning toward his own room. "I'll retire for the night."

"This is the most you've talked," I observe, unable to resist pointing out this departure from his usual taciturn nature.

The changes affecting us all seem to run deeper than mere physical transformation.

Growth I didn’t expect from each of us.

He pauses in the doorway, something vulnerable entering his expression.

"I'm tired," he admits quietly, "of following the path of nature's stereotypes. I don't need to be quiet…to be silent. I won't break cycles if I continue to let myself fall for their projections." His shadows writhe with obvious emotion as he adds, "And I certainly don't want to hurt my Little Mouse again."

The nickname carries such tenderness that it almost feels intrusive to witness. This isn't the cold, heartless, detached Duskwalker prince who first entered Wicked Academy.

This is someone learning to embrace parts of himself long suppressed by societal expectations and careful control.

I hide my growing smirk behind another sip of cold tea as Cassius departs down the hall, his shadows trailing behind him like living memories of who he used to be.

"So he does love her," I whisper to myself, though I'm certain Duskwalker hearing catches the words. The realization feels significant—not just for what it reveals about Cassius, but for what it suggests about the nature of their bond.

It’s blossoming and will only further heighten as we continue this vast journey into the wickedly unknown.

My smile widens as I contemplate the implications.

Love among paranormal beings tends toward the possessive,the controlling.

Yet here we have a Duskwalker prince learning to be gentle, a Fae royal experiencing vulnerability, and an ancient vampire who channels his possessive nature into protection rather than dominance.

All because of one hybrid witch who crashed into their lives with determination and defiance.

The thought sparks something wistful in my chest — a hope that someday I too might experience that kind of transformative connection. That somewhere in all my centuries of study and observation, I might find someone worth breaking stereotypes for.

An old dragon shifter like me can only hope.

The room feels emptier now, though traces of recent events linger in the air like an echo of ancient power. My wards pulse steadily, maintaining the protective bubble around our new living space while simultaneously monitoring for any lingering effects of Atticus's display of force.

Tomorrow will bring fresh challenges — classes to attend, research to begin, dynamics to navigate. We'll need to balance academic requirements with investigation into the chalice, Gwenivere's true nature, and whatever grand design Atticus serves through his careful manipulations.

But for now, in this quiet moment between revelations and responsibilities, I allow myself to simply appreciate the complexity of what we're witnessing. Bonds forming and breaking, natures transforming, ancient powers stirring beneath the surface of what we thought we understood.

The tea leaves at the bottom of my cup form an interesting pattern — one that reminds me of the corruption we failed to fully purify.

Or perhaps, the corruption we helped guide home.

The distinction feels important, though its full significance remains to be seen.

Rising from my chair, I cast one final look toward the bedroom where Gwenivere sleeps.

Whatever power stirs within her, whatever destiny Atticus has foreseen, she remains at the center of all these changes. Her presence here has triggered transformations far beyond physical form — touching hearts long thought frozen, awakening abilities long kept dormant.

Perhaps,it teaches all of us that true strength lies not in maintaining control but in knowing when to let it crack just enough to let light shine through the shadows.

The thought feels appropriately poetic as I prepare for whatever dreams await.

Tomorrow will bring its own revelations, challenges, and opportunities for growth and understanding.

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