Page 8 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

He frowns at this information, taking precious seconds to process before understanding registers on his face. His gaze shifts downward, and I follow it to see a massive purple cloud rushing up to meet me.

"Hold your breath!" he calls, his voice somehow cutting through the roar of our descent.

I obey instantly, pulling in a deep lungful of air before plunging into the toxic purple. The effect is immediate – my skin burns as if doused in acid, nerve endings screaming in protest. Magic responds instinctively, runes flaring to life across my exposed skin, ancient symbols of protection that shouldn't be visible while in Gabriel's form.

I force myself to ignore their manifestation, prioritizing survival over secrecy. Questions about these markings can be dealt with later, assuming we survive this initial challenge.

Right now, escaping this poisonous miasma takes precedence.

Breaking through the bottom of the cloud brings momentary relief.

I gasp, drawing fresh air into my starved lungs, only to see Atticus emerge mere seconds behind me. He's altered his position, arms locked to his sides to increase velocity, closing the distance between us with surprising speed.

His hand reaches out, grabbing my arm just as another purple cloud looms below. Together, we hold our breath, plunging through this second toxic barrier.

Fuck…this can become endless if we don’t figure things out.

When we emerge, both gasping for clean air, his grip remains firm on my forearm.

"What's the objective here?" he asks, the question practical despite our precarious situation.

"I'm not certain," I admit, brain working overtime to make sense of this trial. "We're only two, and based on the message, we likely need a team of seven for this challenge." A thought occurs. "Maybe we're meant to continue falling until we collect those seven participants?"

The words have barely left my mouth when a voice calls from above.

“Gabriel!”

Looking up, my heart stutters at the sight of three familiar figures descending toward us.

Mortimer, Cassius, and Nikolai.

The bond marks hidden beneath this new uniform respond instantly to their presence, pulsing with recognition. Cassius's cool shadows and Nikolai's golden warmth stir beneath my skin, reaching toward their retrospective sources even as my mind recoils from the connection.

I force the sensations down, burying them beneath layers of hurt and betrayal.

These men watched my humiliation without intervening, choosing points over protection. The memory of yellow liquid soaking my uniform, of laughter echoing through the cafeteria while they sat by and did nothing, hardens my resolve.

They don’t deserve my acknowledgement, even in forced circumstance.

My expression settles into a frown as they draw nearer.

Beside me, Atticus doesn't even bother acknowledging their approach, his attention deliberately focused elsewhere.

"Think we could just fall for a few hours?" he asks me dryly. "Wait for different students to show up?"

"We can hear you," Nikolai grumbles as their group reaches us, his golden hair streaming upward in our descent, glowing marvelously with the constant trigger of change in the atmosphere.

His fae magic must be going wild, attempting to figure out his surroundings that are tainted and manipulated, especially in this falling descent with no “end” in sight.

Cassius remains silent, his silver gaze fixed on me with that penetrating intensity that once made my heart race. Now I avoid his eyes, turning instead to Mortimer, who adjusts his glasses with surprising dexterity despite our freefall.

He’s the only decent one in our lot, I guess when I think about it.

"Despite the obvious tension between this particular collaboration of students," Mortimer states calmly, "this may be our best option for surviving this specific trial."

The practical assessment is so typically Mortimer that I almost smile despite myself. Almost.

"Five of seven," I note instead, scanning the sky for additional falling figures. "We're still short."

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