Page 84 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

The uniform really does look good.

I decide with faint satisfaction.

For all their faults, Wicked Academy's designers understand aesthetics that balance power with elegance. The overall effect manages to be both authoritative and subtly feminine — a combination I appreciate more than expected.

The hallway leading to our shared living area carries the same opulent aesthetic as my personal quarters, rich carpeting muffling my footsteps as I make my way toward the kitchen.

Morning light streams through strategically placed windows, illuminating artwork I hadn't noticed during yesterday's exhaustion-blurred observations.

Landscapes of impossible beauty line the walls — vistas that couldn't exist in mundane reality yet feel hauntingly familiar. Mountain ranges where peaks split to reveal star-filled skies despite daylight surroundings.

Forests where trees bear fruits that glow with internal luminescence. Oceans whose waters shift between liquid and crystalline states in rhythmic pulses.

Faerie realms.

I realize with sudden certainty.

These aren't merely artistic imaginings but accurate depictions of territories within this dimension. The recognition carries weight beyond mere observation — knowledge that settles into my awareness with unnerving familiarity.

As if I've seen these places before, though I know that's impossible.

Voices drift from the kitchen ahead, conversation carrying notes of casual banter that suggest topics less serious than academy challenges or world-altering revelations.

The normalcy of it —just roommates sharing a morning meal and conversation— sends unexpected warmth through my chest.

For all the chaos and danger surrounding us, these moments of ordinary connection feel precious in their simplicity. Breakfast shared between people navigating complex relationships and extraordinary circumstances, yet still finding room for laughter and mundane discussion.

The kitchen itself defies ordinary description, combining practical functionality with aesthetic elegance that would make professional chefs envious.

Gleaming countertops of some material resembling marble but subtly iridescent stretch across one wall, while state-of-the-art appliances hum with quiet efficiency. The central island provides both workspace and casual dining area, surrounded by comfortable stools currently occupied by my unusual companions.

They're all dressed in variations of the same Year Two uniform, though each outfit manages to reflect individualpersonalities despite standardized design. The sight of them gathered together, unified by matching attire yet distinctly themselves, creates a tableau that momentarily stops me in the doorway.

Cassius occupies a stool nearest the window, silver eyes catching morning light in ways that make them almost luminous. His uniform looks painted on rather than tailored, the precise fit emphasizing lean muscle and perfect posture that speaks of royal upbringing despite his casual pose. The shadows surrounding him seem more settled today, less agitated than I've grown accustomed to witnessing.

Nikki sits opposite him, golden-red hair cascading down her back in waves that catch sunlight like living flame. Her uniform has been subtly modified to better accommodate her transformed feminine form, the changes so seamless they appear intentional rather than adaptive.

Despite her apparent comfort in this altered state, occasional flickers of frustration cross her features when movements don't align with lifelong muscle memory.

Atticus lounges with casual grace that manages to make even the academy uniform look dangerously fashionable. He's added subtle personal touches — silver cufflinks shaped like ancient runes, a watch whose face reveals astronomical configurations rather than mere time.

His crimson eyes track my entrance immediately, lips curving in subtle appreciation that makes heat rise to my cheeks despite my best efforts at composure.

The most startling transformation belongs to Mortimer.

The scholarly "pet dragon" has undergone dramatic aesthetic shift that momentarily makes me question whether some other student has infiltrated our quarters. His usually practical, somewhat rumpled appearance has been replaced by immaculate styling that takes years off his apparent age.

His dark hair, typically left to its own devices in academic disregard for appearance, has been expertly arranged in a style that sweeps back from his forehead with deliberate precision.

The look emphasizes cheekbones I hadn't properly registered before, creating a more youthful impression that's both striking and slightly disorienting.

Most notable is his blazer, which differs significantly from our standard issue. The material appears similar, but additional design elements mark it as belonging to a different classification — upperclassmen status evidenced through intricate embroidery surrounding the academy emblem.

The combination of black leather with silk outlining in gold and royal purple creates striking visual impact, while subtle detailing along cuffs and collar appears to be actual gold thread.

Fourteen karat at minimum.

I estimate, remembering Elena's fascination with metallurgy and her insistence on teaching me to recognize quality at a glance.

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