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The situation feels as precarious as the moment I etched my name into that prison cell wall back in 1745 Versailles. If I went back now, in the present day, would my name still be there, declaring myself a member of the AAD?

“Or,” Finn interjects, his tone balancing between joking and serious, “we could clear everyone out and blow the place up.”

“No!” My response is so immediate and intense, it startles everyone. “We can’t do that,” I continue, striving to soften my tone but failing to hide my agitation. “Think of all the masterpieces here. The idea of losing them is too heartbreaking to contemplate.”

Their gazes fix on me, and a sobering realization dawns: I might be more like Arthur than I ever wanted to admit. The mere thought of destroying these treasures, erasing them from existence, strikes a chord so profound, I find myself completely choked up.

Finn raises his hands in a gesture of compliance. “All right,” he says, with a nod. “We’ll stick with your plan. And Godspeed to us all.”

Oliver is the first to extend his hand. We join ours atop his, forming a united front. Our gold signet AAD rings catch the light, and for the first time in ages, a surge of genuine optimism courses through me. Maybe, just maybe, we stand a good chance.

At the very least, it’s heartening to know we’re not alone in our willingness to take a stand and do what’s right.

Amid our newfound resolve, the sudden, sharp peal of six slabs chiming at once blares through the room, jarring us all.

“Seriously?” Oliver sighs in frustration, as we each break away to check our devices.

Braxton gets to his first, so I edge closer, resting against his shoulder to peer at the screen.

Your Presence is requested!

Braxton looks at me, confusion creasing his brow. “What the hell?”

I understand his concern. It’s reminiscent of the invitations we receive for Trips. Worried, we continue to read.

When: Tonight, 8:00 pm

Where: Halcyon

What: Saturnalia Gala

Why: A celebration to honor all your hard work

“Damn,” Braxton mutters under his breath. “Looks like Arthur’s accelerating his plans.”

Mason looks puzzled. “I don’t get it,” he says. “What’s a Saturnalia?”

Just moments before, I didn’t know, either. But now, the explanation rolls off my tongue as if I’ve known all along.

“It’s a tradition from ancient Rome,” I explain. “A festival to honor Saturn. During Saturnalia, societal norms were flipped upside down—slaves were served by their masters, laws were relaxed, and everyone embraced freedom and festivity. It was a time of chaos and celebration. I’m sure Arthur has plans to turbocharge this event, turning it into one last blowout party to celebrate all he’s achieved and the utopia he believes he’s about to usher in.”

Mason’s hand sweeps through the air, encompassing the room. “So, this is it. Whether we choose to leave, or Arthur forces us out, he’s gearing up for the finale, the end of Gray Wolf Academy as we know it.”

I nod, concern threading through my voice. “You okay with this?”

Without hesitation, Mason says, “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Turning to Braxton, Keane says, “Looks like you’re Tripping tonight. Think you can manage that?”

The mere thought sets my stomach roiling. In theory, it all seemed so feasible. In practice, the stakes have never been higher.

What if Braxton can’t find his way back?

And even if he does, what will he be coming back to?

He certainly can’t return here.

I glance at Keane, panic spreading across my face. He reads my expression and quickly reassures me. “I’ll make sure he’s not left behind. He’ll get to where he needs to be, on both ends of his Trip. Trust me.”