Page 32 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

The third figure...

Wrong.

Everything about them is wrong for this place.

They glow with sickly yellow shot through with veins of green—colors that have no place in this realm of beautiful darkness.Where the parents embody their environment, this being stands apart from it.

Foreign.

Invasive.

Like oil on water, refusing to blend.

The parents gesture with formal grace, hands moving in patterns that carry meaning beyond mere motion. When they speak, the words come in a language I don't know but somehow understand. The sounds shift and blur, reforming into English as if reality itself translates for my benefit.

"This being comes from the Fae lands. They will determine your royal roots here and now."

The Fae nods slowly.

The motion carries weight of ceremony, of judgment about to be pronounced that cannot be taken back. They raise one hand, pointing to the girl with the burning crown.

"She is your destined heir, having taken the power of the internal flames."

The words ring with prophecy's certainty. I watch the little girl straighten, shadow-form somehow becoming more solid with each pronouncement.

"She will rise to rule your throne and encourage the rise of the academy you cherish. Her destined half will be of pure darkness—originally outcast to all but rising as one who will unify a realm that has always been alone among a sea of allies."

The Fae's voice gains momentum, prophecy flowing like water breaking through a dam.

"He will not only rule by her side, but he will love her with utmost gentleness that will invite scholars of power in realms of scales and fire, while igniting loyalty from beings of blood and immortality in the purest form. Beings of feline nature will grant cycles of knowledge, and together, a kingdom of power will be respected through all the realms."

The parents clap—sound like thunder rolling through darkness.

Their shadow-forms radiate satisfaction, pride, completion. The girl with the fire crown jumps up and down, flames dancing wild with her joy. The boy catches her in a hug that makes both their coronas flare brighter.

The third girl watches.

Waits.

Her shadow-form remains perfectly still, but I can feel the anticipation radiating from her. The desperate hope. The certainty that her turn comes next, that something wonderful awaits just beyond this moment.

The Fae turns to the boy, purple light playing across their alien features.

"You carry the power to guide armies. To protect this realm from those who wish deceit and betrayal."

Each word builds upon the last, constructing a destiny from syllables and certainty.

"You'll scout students dead and alive, gifted and null in power. You will be a grandmaster in your element of ruling, a Headmaster of the finest art."

The boy stands straighter, shadow-form gaining definition with each pronounced fate.

"You are destined not to remain in these realms. You are bonded to one outside who will rise upon a throne of glittering gold and blossoms of immense perfection. That unity will ensure alliances never witnessed."

The Fae's voice rises to crescendo.

"Destiny will be rewritten thanks to your unified favor, and though you will always come to the aid of your fellow heir and ruler, you will become one who will rule and expand the realms into an era of peacefulness."

Again the parents clap, thunder-sound joined by something like singing—wordless melody that speaks of approval deeper than language. The boy stands taller while the girl with fire dances around him, her joy infectious enough that his purple light begins to pulse in rhythm with her flames.