Page 15 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

Did the throne trigger a third individual entering them and creating a personality problem?

"I remember everything," he whispers. Volume modulated for maximum emotional impact. I've heard Gwenivere whisper—it carries breath, life. This is technique. "Every betrayal. Every loss. Every reason I have to hate this place and everyone in it. But I also remember..." His gaze shifts to encompass all of us. The pause extends exactly three heartbeats. Rehearsed. "I remember why I chose differently. Why Gabriel exists at all."

"Then tell us," Atticus says, his tone gentler than usual.

The vampire's instincts are sharp—he senses something off but hasn't identified it yet. His weight shifts subtly left, unconscious preparation for violence. "Help us understand."

The internal war playing out across Gabriel's features is fascinating to observe.

Muscles contract and release in patterns suggesting genuine emotional conflict. But I catch it—the moment where one expression doesn't quite transition naturally to the next. Like watching two faces occupy the same space, taking turns at the surface.

"The Infernal Academy isn't just a school. It's a prison. A testing ground. A place where the previous generation sends their failures to either die or prove themselves worthy of acknowledgment." His smile holds no humor. The left corner lifts 0.3 centimeters higher than the right—opposite of Gwenivere's natural asymmetry. "I wasn't sent here to learn. I was sent here to disappear."

"By who?" The question emerges as a growl, my shadows responding to the fury building in my chest. But I'm watching. Always watching. The way his weight shifts; favoring left leg instead of right. The angle of his shoulders — pulled back extra 2 degrees. The positioning of his hands; thumbs tucked in—Gwenivere never does that.

All wrong. All performed.

His answer is simple. Devastating.But delivered with a satisfaction that transforms the words from revelation to victory.

"My twin."

The words hang between us, weighted with implications that rewrite everything we thought we understood. But there's a glitter in his eyes—anticipation.He's waiting for our reactions. Feeding on them.

Twin…meaning her sister? Or is he a brother?

The ground shudders with renewed violence before anyone can respond.

Convenient timing. Too convenient.

"The third guardian stirs,"the volcanic glass beast rumbles from where it still kneels, its voice carrying warning."The Warden of Bones awakens. Master, if your companions are to survive, they must be prepared for what comes next."

Gabriel straightens, vulnerability passing too quickly. A mask removed rather than emotion overcome.

"Then we prepare. All of us. Together."

He looks at me, and for a moment I see—something. Not my Little Mouse beneath the mantle of Infernal royalty. Something else wearing her face.

Something that knows I'm watching and finds it amusing.

My shadows coil tighter, responding to instinct older than thought.

Predator recognizing predator.

"Even if it means breaking every rule this realm holds sacred?" I ask, testing. Probing for reactions.

His smile is beautiful.Dangerous.And completely wrong. Too many teeth visible.

Gwenivere's smiles are precious because they're rare—this is performance art.

"Especially then."

Nikki's unconscious form presents our immediate challenge. She's dead weight, her Fae body rejecting this realm even in unconsciousness. Every breath rattles with fluid—blood in the lungs, getting worse. Moving her in this state will slow us critically. Risk finishing what her injuries started.

"I can help," Zeke volunteers, clearly reading out minds, moving closer to her still form. His approach carries that feline grace, but there's calculation in his extraordinary eyes. "If you'll permit me."

"What are you suggesting?" Atticus asks, still cradling her with vampire strength that's beginning to show strain. A tremor in his left bicep—minor, but growing. Even vampire endurance has limits.

Zeke's extraordinary eyes flicker with ancient knowledge. The vertical pupils dilate and contract in pattern suggesting deep magical assessment. "Transformation. Temporary, reversible, but practical." He looks to me, then Gabriel. "I can shift her into a cat. Easier to carry, less strain on her system."