Page 120 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

Cassius faced his fear of himself and learned to accept his nature.

What will Nikolai's trial reveal? What will Zeke's?

And perhaps more importantly—what trial am I going through, walking through this labyrinth collecting the people who've become essential to my existence?

Understanding yourself,the book had said.

Maybe that's what this is.

Not just rescuing others but understanding what they mean to me, what I mean to them, what we're becoming together as a unit surviving the wicked turmoils of this academy.

Which brings us back to the foundation of Wicked Academy’s creation…

Was it out of love that was tainted by the unexpected deaths and coiled into a sinful rumor that no longer reflects is purpose?

The labyrinth shifts around us as we exit, more aggressive now with three of us free from trials.

I have Grim floating at my shoulder, Mortimer's voice in my mind, Atticus waiting in our safe room, and Cassius's shadows protecting our path.

Soon I'll have Nikolai and Zeke too.

And then, together, we'll either escape this labyrinth or confront whatever is waiting for us at the “end”.

The end that can potentially lead us to the final year of this wicked paradise…revealing whatever truth has been held by the one person we’ve yet to confront in this journey.

The sister of a mastermind…

The Vision Of Crisis

~GWENIEVERE~

The return journey to our safe room is punctuated by Cassius's occasional muttered observations about the labyrinth's increasing hostility.

Books dive-bomb us like paper birds of prey, their pages sharp enough to cut. Doorways appear in our path only to slam shut before we can pass through, forcing us to find alternative routes through the dimensional chaos.

When we finally reach our destination, I'm exhausted in ways that have nothing to do with physical exertion.

The door opens to reveal Mortimer and Atticus in what appears to be careful détente—seated on opposite sides of the room, maintaining studied casualness that speaks of deliberate effort not to compete for dominance in the space.

That carefully maintained peace shatters the moment Cassius gets a good look at Mortimer.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

I’m fighting hard not to smirk.

The words escape with the particular indignation of someone who's just realized the playing field has shifted dramatically in their absence. Cassius's shadows writhe with agitation as he takes in Mortimer's transformation—the impossible youth, thecasual power, the way he makes leather and partial undress look like royal regalia.

"You bonded with him," Cassius states rather than asks, silver eyes narrowing as he processes the change in Mortimer's scent, the way dragon magic now threads through the air around him mixed with something uniquely mine.

"I was expecting it," he continues, circling Mortimer with predatory assessment. "The bonds were inevitable given our configuration. But not this—" he gestures at Mortimer's entire existence, "—young fool who makes me want to fight for dominance I thought was already established."

Mortimer rises with fluid grace that makes his youth even more apparent. Where the older version moved with careful dignity, this one moves like barely contained power given beautiful form.

"Dominance?" Mortimer's eyebrow arches with academic interest that's somewhat undermined by the smirk playing at his lips. "I wasn't aware we were competing. Though if we are, centuries of experience should count for something."

"Experience in dusty libraries," Cassius shoots back, shadows coiling with increasing aggression. "Not exactly battlefield credentials."

"You'd be surprised what one learns in the right libraries," Mortimer responds, and there's something dangerous in his golden eyes now. "Dragons hoard knowledge the way others hoard gold. Every spell, every technique, every way to destroy an enemy—all catalogued, studied, perfected."