Page 10 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

A sound cuts him off.

Not a roar or explosion, but something far more unsettling.

Laughter.

Deep, grinding mirth that seems to come from the very stones around us.

In the distance, something massive shifts. Volcanic glass catching the hellish light, moving with deliberate purpose.

"It knows we're coming," Mortimer observes, scholarly curiosity overcoming his pain. "It'swaiting."

"Good," Gabriel says, and there's something dark in his smile. "I prefer opponents who think they're ready."

He starts walking, still carrying the first key like it weighs nothing. The rest of us exchange glances—wounded, exhausted, but somehow still united by stronger than logic or self-preservation.

"You know," Atticus says conversationally as we follow, "most people try to avoid walking toward the giant monster that's actively planning their deaths."

He’s right, but then again, we really don’t have a choice in the matter.

"Most people aren't us," I respond, shadows coiling despite their recent burning. "Besides, where would be the fun in that?"

"Your definition of fun needs serious recalibration," Nikki mutters, but she's moving under her own power now, Zeke's healing having worked its magic swiftly.

"Says the Fae who charged a fire serpent with wind magic in a realm specifically designed to hate her existence," Zeke points out mildly.

"That was tactics," she protests. "Completely different."

"It was brave," Mortimer corrects, golden eyes meeting hers with unexpected warmth. "Foolish, but brave."

A faint blush colors her cheeks despite the oppressive heat.

"Yeah, well, someone had to do something. We can't all stand around looking mysteriously powerful and gawking at the pretty guardian serpent ready to kill us."

"I don't know," Atticus muses, "I think I pull off mysteriously powerful quite well."

"You pull off annoyingly arrogant," I correct. "There's a difference."

"Only to those lacking appreciation for nuance," he shoots back.

The banter continues as we walk, a familiar rhythm that somehow makes the hellscape around us more bearable. Even Gabriel seems affected, his rigid posture relaxing fractionally as he listens to us trade barbs and observations.

We slow as we approach what must be where the second guardian resides, our eyes scanning around the desolate space of blistering heat.

"Ready?" Gabriel asks, pausing at the crest of a rise that will bring the second guardian into full view.

"No," comes the unanimous response.

His smile is sharp as the obsidian beneath our feet.

“Wickedly good,” he responds. “Just don’t die.”

We can only hope…

Trials Of Ruin And Devastation

~CASSIUS~

The second guardian makes the fire serpent look like a house pet.