Page 62 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

Days have stretched into what feels like weeks, and I'm no closer to locating the artifact that brought me to the academy's walls. Instead, I've become entangled in bonds and trials, insurvival and politics, in a game whose rules I still don't fully understand.

"I've been distracted," I admit, the confession painful but necessary. "Having to maintain my persona as Gabriel, male version of me…trying to survive the trials... it's been challenging. But we've made it through to Year Two now. I promise I'll focus on finding the chalice. I'll bring it back to you. I'll make you well again."

The words pour out in a desperate rush, as if saying them aloud might somehow make up for lost time, for objectives temporarily set aside in favor of immediate survival.

Elena tilts her head slightly, her expression softening into something between affection and pity. The look sends another pang through my chest —I don't want her pity. I want to be her savior,her protector.The sister who finds a way when all others have failed.

"You're so selfless to do all that,"she says gently, her voice barely carrying across the space between us."But you don't remember the real purpose of entering Wicked Academy, do you?"

I frown, confusion replacing some of my desperation.

"What do you mean? My goal was always to retrieve the chalice and save you from the disease plaguing you. That's why I infiltrated the academy in the first place." The statement feels like bedrock, the foundation upon which I've built every decision since receiving news of her worsening condition.

Yet even as I speak, something tugs at the edges of my certainty —a whisper of doubt I can't quite silence.

Elena looks back at me, smiling sadly, seeming impossibly pale and weak in the strange half-light of this decaying meadow.

The sight makes my heart ache anew, fueling my determination to break through this barrier, to reach her, to somehow fix everything that's gone wrong.

I slam my fist against the invisible wall, frustration giving way to desperation.

"I'll work even harder," I promise, the words emerging as both pledge and prayer. "I'll find the chalice faster. I'll bring it to you before---"

The thought remains unfinished, my mind refusing to acknowledge what my heart fears most:that time is running out. That each day I spend navigating Wicked Academy's trials and politics is another day Elena grows weaker, another day the disease tightens its grip on her fragile form.

Elena shakes her head slowly, the movement careful and measured like everything else about her now.

"When flowers are destined to wilt, all they have is time on their side,"she says, voice carrying unexpected strength despite her frail appearance."You have a bigger purpose, Gwenivere. The chalice is simply the catalyst missing to reveal the true purpose in the heart of the wicked."

Her words carry weight beyond their surface meaning, resonating through me with uncomfortable familiarity.

Have I heard this before?

The thought flickers through my mind, elusive as smoke, gone before I can grasp its significance.

"Discover the legend,"Elena continues, each word seeming to echo across the dying meadow."Unravel the different realms, and cut through the illusion they're so desperate to ensure you remain lost in."

The flowers around her feet begin to fade, not just dying but becoming translucent, as if reality itself is thinning around her. I press harder against the barrier, panic rising as I sense our time together drawing to a close.

"Those you've encountered and made bonds with will further aid you along your journey,"she says,her own form starting to shimmer with the same translucency affecting the flowers."Follow the path of the wicked, and pay mercy to the cat that will crave your company. It will lead you to the next step towards your salvation and allow you to remember what you've obviously forgotten."

"Elena, wait!" I cry out, both palms flat against the barrier now. "What are you talking about? What have I forgotten?"

But she's already beginning to fade, her outline blurring at the edges like watercolors left in rain. The sight sends fresh waves of panic through me, my fists pounding against the invisible wall with renewed desperation.

"Hold on!" I beg, each impact against the barrier sending ripples of resistance through my arms. "When I wake up, I'll return immediately. I'll bring the chalice. Just hold on a little longer, please!"

Elena's smile turns impossibly tender, full of love and something else — a knowledge or acceptance that makes my chest ache with foreboding. She lifts one translucent hand in farewell, already more ghost than person, more memory than present reality.

"Remember..."she whispers, the word traveling across the barrier even as she fades from view."Remember who you...Gabe…rem…"

The rest is lost as both she and the meadow dissolve into cascading particles of light, the dreamscape collapsing around me like a theater set at the end of its final performance.

I reach out, trying to grasp even one of those fading motes of light, as if capturing it might somehow preserve this connection. But my fingers close on emptiness, on the absence left when something precious is torn away too soon.

Darkness rushes in, filling the void left by the meadow's dissolution. It sweeps over me like a tide, not malevolent butinevitable, carrying me away from this strange place of wilting flowers and half-truths.

I try to call Elena's name one more time, but the darkness swallows the sound before it can form.

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