Page 40 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

"Don't kill Grim," I groan, though I'm fighting my own amusement.

"I wasn't going to kill him per se," Zeke protests, though his eyes track Grim's movement with undiminished interest. "I'm just fascinated by his nature."

With visible effort, he pulls his attention away from the floating death-sprite. "To answer the earlier question—what if Gwenivere is only bonded to Nikolai?"

We frown in collective confusion. Even Grim turns his body upside down, tiny skull tilting in apparent bewilderment.

"What if," Zeke elaborates carefully, "Gwen is bonded to Nikolai. But Gabriel—the hidden half—is bonded to Nikki?"

The silence that follows is profound. We all turn to stare at Nikolai, who looks like someone just solved a puzzle he didn't know existed.

"I'm not a split entity..." he begins, then trails off with a frown. "I don't think."

"Why do you sound unsure?" Mortimer asks, scholarly instincts homing in on the uncertainty.

Nikolai's discomfort is palpable. "Well... when Cassius explained what he saw in Gwenivere's vision—with Gabriel and Elena meeting the Fae being—that's tradition. Done for all royal children."

"Meaning you went through it as well?" I ask, though the answer seems obvious.

His nod is slow, reluctant. Something about this topic clearly touches on memories he'd rather leave buried. The shift from Nikolai to Nikki, the Fae realm's violence toward their own prince/princess—pieces of a larger puzzle we're only beginning to see.

"Why don't we rest first?" Zeke declares suddenly, his tone brooking no argument. "Gabriel is right. Time is precious, and I feel a sense of unease. We'll be fighting soon."

The finality in his voice makes everyone pause. Zeke's instincts haven't been wrong yet. If he senses combat approaching, we'd be fools to ignore the warning.

We settle into our makeshift camp, logs finally igniting with Mortimer's assistance. The fire burns strange in this realm—purple flames with hearts of gold, casting shadows that move independently of their sources. But it's warm, and that's what matters.

I find myself watching child Gwenivere sleep in Cassius's arms.

Her face is peaceful, unmarred by the complexity that defines her waking hours. Here, she's just a tired child who pushed too hard for too long.

The mark on my wrist pulses gently—not pain, just presence.Reminder of connection that transcends physical form or mental state. She chose me, blood to blood, and that bond holds regardless of what shape she takes or what guardian role she must play.

But doubt gnaws at the edges of certainty. Am I worthy of being her right hand? When she offered that position in prophecy, did she See what I truly am? Or did she project hopes onto someone who might ultimately disappoint?

The fire crackles, sending sparks of purple-gold into darkness that swallows them whole. Around me, my companions settle into rest or watchfulness according to their natures. But my thoughts remain turbulent.

Two souls in one body.

Bonds that might not be what we assumed. A realm that wants to break us before we can reach its heart.

And at the center of it all, a child who carries power enough to reshape reality but still needs someone to hold her when she's tired.

I close my eyes, letting vampire senses expand to monitor our surroundings while my mind processes everything we've learned.

Tomorrow—or whenever we resume our journey—we'll face whatever guardianship means in its final form. We'll discover if our bonds are strong enough to survive truth hidden within Gwenievere and Gabriel’s past...

But tonight, we rest.

I try not to think about how Gabriel looked at Nikolai, or what it means that marks can be selective even within shared flesh, or whether the prophecy that makes me "right hand" will hold when all secrets finally come to light.

The fire burns on, casting shadows that dance like prophecies I'm not yet ready to read.

The Burden Of Duality

~NIKOLAI~

Sleep eludes me like smoke through fingers.