Page 12 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

We scatter, but the beast moves with impossible speed for something its size. Its arm sweeps in a wide arc, volcanic glassfingers extended like blades. I see Gabriel directly in its path, standing still as if observing rather than participating.

Not happening.

I move without thinking, shadows propelling me forward as I wrap an arm around Gabriel's waist andpull. We go tumbling together, the beast's attack passing through space we'd occupied milliseconds before. The ground where we'd been standing doesn't just crack—itliquefies, stone turning to lava in an instant.

"Get off me," Gabriel growls, trying to push away even as molten rock bubbles where we would have died.

"You're welcome for saving your life," I respond, not loosening my grip. His body feels different against mine—harder somehow, as if the awakened memories have transformed him physically as well as mentally. "Unless you were planning to test your newfound immunity to being pulverized?"

"I don't need?—"

"You need to stop being an idiot," I interrupt, hauling us both upright as the beast prepares another attack. "Your dramatic brooding can wait until after we survive."

He glares at me with those transformed eyes—silver shot through with veins of gold that pulse with internal fire.

"I am notbrooding."

"Right, you're 'remembering ancient wrongs' or whatever poetic?—"

"Shut up," he snarls, but there's something almost familiar in his irritation. A crack in the cold facade. "And stop holding me."

"Make me," I challenge, tightening my arm around his waist as the ground beneath us begins to glow with warning heat. "Unless you've forgotten, I'm rather fond of holding what's mine."

"Cassius, I swear to every hell that exists?—"

The ground erupts.

Not gradually, but in an instant transformation from solid to liquid fire. I don't think—just react. My shadows surge downward, not to fight the lava but tobecomean element that can counter its desire for our demise.

The darkness coalesces, taking shape with desperate purpose.

A serpent of pure shadow rises from the molten stone, its massive head lifting us above the destruction. My creation moves with fluid grace, shadow-flesh immune to the heat that would destroy physical matter. Its body extends back toward the others, tail weaving between erupting geysers of lava with protective intent.

"Everybody on!" I shout, guiding the shadow serpent to collect our scattered group. Atticus leaps aboard with Nikki's injured form, while Mortimer helps boost Zeke toward safety.

The volcanic beast roars its fury, massive fists pounding the ground and sending fresh waves of lava in all directions. But we're above it now, riding my serpent as it navigates the hellscape with surprising grace.

"Impressive," Gabriel admits grudgingly, though he's stopped trying to escape my hold. "Your shadow work has evolved."

"Flattered you noticed," I respond, directing the serpent to weave between the beast's grasping hands. "Now, any chance you want to actually help instead of waiting for the dramatically appropriate moment?"

His jaw tightens.

"You don't understand?—"

"I understand you're letting pride get people hurt," I snap back. "Whatever you are now, whoever you were before, these people—ourpeople—are dying for you."

The beast's tactics change.

Instead of wild swings, it begins creating patterns of destruction. Lava erupts in coordinated geysers, forcing my serpent into increasingly narrow paths. It's learning, adapting to our aerial advantage.

"Zeke, freeze the lava!" I call out. "Create platforms!"

He responds immediately, frost magic pouring from his hands in concentrated streams. Where ice meets lava, obsidian platforms form—temporary solid ground in the sea of molten stone. But the effort is clearly draining him, his face pale with exertion.

The beast notices too.

Its attention shifts with predatory focus, volcanic glass eyes fixing on Zeke with calculated intent. One massive arm draws back, not for a wild swing but a precise strike aimed directly at the exhausted shifter.