Page 60 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

"What did you mean?" Zeke asks Nikolai, his voice carrying over the wind they're generating. "About the waters not belonging?"

Nikolai's concentration face is almost comical—tongue slightly out, eyes narrowed, the expression of someone juggling too many things at once. When he responds, his words come in bursts between magical efforts.

"I'll tell—push—when we reach—wind—shore."

A pause as he adjusts the magical flow.

"Not good at—gust—multitasking as Nikolai—breeze—versus Nikki."

The admission is interesting. Another piece of the puzzle that is their dual nature. Different capabilities in different forms, not just physical but mental. Nikki can multitask..cause she’s a girl?Nikolai cannot…because boys suck at that, I guess?

Small distinctions that probably matter more than we realize.

The platform grows larger as we approach, details becoming visible that distance had hidden. The stone isn't natural—it's carved with symbols that hurt to look at directly, each one seeming to shift when observed. The pedestal at its center is crystal, but not clear. It's filled with something that moves like smoke but catches light like water.

And above it, floating in a sphere of soft luminescence, is the third key.

It's different from the others.

Where the first burned with internal fire and the second contained captured starlight, this one seems to holdnothing. Not emptiness—nothing.

A void given form, absence made tangible.

Looking at it makes my chest tight with recognition I don't understand.

We're close now, maybe thirty feet from the platform's edge. The others begin preparing to disembark—weapons checked, magic gathered, awareness sharpened for whatever trial awaits.

"Everyone be ready," Cassius warns, his shadows already extending toward the platform like scouts. "This has been too easy."

He's right. After the battles with previous guardians, this peaceful crossing feels like a trap waiting to spring.

But what choice do we have? The key waits.

The Academy demands its price.

The boat bumps against the platform with a hollow sound that echoes longer than it should. One by one, the othersstep off—Cassius first, shadows spreading to check for danger. Then Atticus, moving with vampire grace to secure a perimeter. Mortimer follows, scholarly caution balanced with dragon preparedness. Zeke flows onto the platform like liquid cat, every sense alert.

Nikolai is last, maintaining the wind until everyone else is safe before letting the magic dissipate.

Everyone except me.

I remain seated on the boat, something holding me in place. Not fear exactly, but... recognition.

This place feels familiar in a way that makes my child-stomach queasy.

I turn to look back at the shore we came from, and the strangest sensation washes over me. Like déjà vu in reverse—not feeling like I've been here before, but like I'msupposedto be here. Destined to be here.

"Why is it familiar?" I whisper to myself, the words barely audible over the sound of water that doesn't lap or move but simplyexists.

A hand covers mine.

Not large and cool like Cassius's. Small. Warm. Familiar in a way that goes beyond skin.

I look to find child Gabriel sitting beside me, his appearance as sudden as always but somehow expected. His silver hair catches light that doesn't exist, and those impossible eyes hold knowledge that makes him ancient despite his young face.

"This is the place where she got her wish," he whispers, his voice carrying weight that has nothing to do with volume.

"Who got their wish?" I whisper back, something about this moment demanding hushed tones.