Page 36 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

"Promise, Little Mouse."

Our fingers close around each other, sealing something more binding than any magical contract.

I huff with childish indignation, needing to assert some control in this situation.

"I'm a big mouse! I'm six and a half!"

The half is important. Every fraction counts when you're small.

His smirk is perfectly Cassius—controlled amusement that manages to be both irritating and endearing.

"Whatever you say."

The others have nearly reached us now. I can see Atticus's expression shifting from relief to confusion as he processes my child-form. Can see Mortimer's scholarly mind alreadycataloging questions. Can see Zeke's quiet acceptance of yet another impossibility.

Can see Nikki, looking at me with something like understanding. As if she, too, knows what it means to be judged before you could defend yourself. To be condemned by prophecy and circumstance rather than action.

Just looking at them makes me briefly recall memories that don’t feel like mine — more so my brothers. The brief interaction with them, leading them…here.It’s odd and confusing.

To be one person but then be separate as well?

Maybe that's why Gabriel—my brother I didn't know I had—showed her kindness.

Broken recognizes broken, even across the divide of ancestral hatred.

"Little Mouse?" Atticus's voice carries disbelief as he stops a few feet away, clearly overhearing our conversation with that supernatural hearing that most vampires have. "Is that...?"

"It's me," I confirm, voice piping high with childhood's pitch. "Just...smaller. I think?"

"And significantly more adorable," Zeke observes with characteristic calm. "Though the fire crown is new."

Fire crown? I reach up, feeling warmth above my head.

Sure enough, the element of power that was in the haunting fairytale of what must be our childhood has now come into physical fruition.

The mark of my heritage remains.

"We need to reach the Academy," Mortimer says, ever practical. "The final key?—"

"She knows," Cassius interrupts gently. "We've made a deal."

Atticus's eyes narrow slightly.

"What kind of deal?"

I straighten in Cassius's arms, trying for authority despite my diminutive size.

"If you're worthy, you get the key. If not..." I trail off, not actually sure what happens if they're not worthy.

Do I remain guardian forever? Does the realm reset? Does everyone die?

"We'll be worthy," Nikki says quietly. The certainty in her voice surprises me. "We have to be."

It feels odd for her to be confident, but I feel the need to give her a chance.

All of them a chance…

Looking at them—these people who've chased me through realms and transformations, who've faced death and worse for someone who might be the villain of this story—I find myself hoping she's right.