Page 91 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Two

As I move toward the door, she clears her throat with deliberate emphasis.

"Before you excuse yourself, perhaps you might demonstrate understanding of today's material, Hawthorne," she suggests, voice carrying an edge that makes other students lean forward in anticipation of my academic humiliation. "Explain the purpose of the quaternary containment ring in blood magic circles and why the northern quadrant requires additional reinforcement."

The question is specifically designed to identify students who've been paying attention versus those merely present in body but not mind. The answer isn't explicitly stated in today's lecture but must be derived from principles discussed and diagram displayed—a perfect trap for the inattentive.

Instead of a verbal response, I decide a demonstration more effectively answers both her question and the underlying challenge to my academic standing.

I bite my finger with casual precision, my sharpened fangs descending swiftly, breaking skin just enough to draw a steady flow of blood without causing excessive damage. With a snap of my fingers, I direct the blood droplets into a calculated pattern, watching with satisfaction as they remain suspended in air before me.

With a simple twist of wrist, I send my blood racing throughout the classroom in precise replication of the diagram Professor Eternalis spent thirty minutes constructing — but with a significant difference.

Where her chalk drawing remained a flat representation, my blood creation exists in three dimensions, each layer hovering at different heights to demonstrate the spatial relationships that make blood magic particularly potent.

The suspended droplets pulse with internal light as they form a perfect quaternary containment ring, the northern quadrant visibly reinforced with additional blood strands woven through the basic structure. Then, with final flourish that goes beyondher question, I trigger cascading transformation throughout the entire construct.

Where each blood droplet intersects with another, a perfect blood-red rose blossoms into existence, petals unfurling with impossible delicacy until the entire classroom is decorated with floating crimson flowers, their sweet metallic scent filling the air with heady perfume that carries notes of both beauty and warning.

The display leaves every student speechless, their expressions ranging from obvious envy to genuine awe at a demonstration that exceeds graduate-level work, much less second-year expectations. Even Professor Eternalis appears momentarily surprised before the professional mask reasserts itself.

I pause at the doorway, turning back to deliver a final message not to our instructor but to the now-silent classroom at large.

"I'm a dangerous wizard to mess with," I state with quiet certainty that carries more weight than shouted threat ever could. "Remember that the next time you try to bully me or anyone associated with me."

I deliberately linger my gaze on my neighbor, ensuring everyone understands the protection I've just extended includes him specifically.

The message couldn't be clearer if I'd written it in blood alongside the roses still floating throughout the classroom.

Guess I should learn his name.

"Name,” I ask him, which makes his eyes widen with both fright and confusion.

“Uh…Z-Zeke.”

“Hmm.”Not a bad name.“Gabriel,” I introduce and spin away. “Get back to work.”

With that declaration hanging in the air as potently as the crimson blooms, I exit the classroom, leaving stunned silence in my wake.

Confrontations In The Wicked Hallway

~GWENIVERE~

The corridors of Faerie Wicked Academy pulse with energy that feels simultaneously familiar and foreign.

Unlike the main academy's stark architectural precision, these hallways curve organically, the walls shimmering with subtle iridescence that changes depending on the viewing angle.

Golden veins trace complex patterns through marble floors, forming what appear to be dormant spell circuits that activate briefly when stepped upon, then fade back to quiescence.

I stride purposefully toward the cafeteria, already anticipating the reunion with my bond mates.

After this morning's class with Professor Eternalis, I'm eager to share observations about Year Two's apparent curriculum differences – particularly the advanced nature of materials being covered in what should be introductory sessions.

The consistent footsteps shadowing mine for the past three corridors finally draw my attention.

I glance back, unsurprised to find Zeke trailing several paces behind. He startles slightly when our eyes meet, his slender frame tensing as if expecting reprimand for his persistence.

The reaction triggers an unexpected twinge of sympathy beneath my carefully maintained Gabriel façade.

Jeez…

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