Page 69 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

Gwenievere stirs in Cassius's arms, a small sound escaping that might be word or might be whimper.

We all freeze, watching as her eyes flutter but don't quite open.

"We should get her somewhere safe," Cassius says, though his tone suggests he's not sure anywhere qualifies anymore. "Away from the water."

But even as we move toward the platform's center, I can't stop thinking about what I saw.

About Iris and her guards. About golden gates that shouldn't exist. About prophecies wrapped in warnings wrapped in names I thought were buried.

The plague of our academy hidden in the depths of perfection.

What plague? What perfection? And why do I have the sinking feeling that everything we think we know about our world—about the academies, the realms, the very nature of our existence—is built on lies so fundamental we can't even see them?

Gwenievere's eyes open fully, looking confused at first before realization shifts to curiosity as her eyes look around until they’re focusing on me with recognition that makes my chest tight.

"You saved me," she whispers, voice raw from water and screaming.

"You called for me," I respond, the truth of it simple and complete.

She nods slowly, processing.

Then, with the particular directness only children can manage:

"There was a woman in the water."

Everyone goes still.

She saw Iris too? But how? She was unconscious, dying, pulled from water before we encountered?—

"She said my name," Gwenievere continues, each word careful as if she's not sure they're real. "My other name. Theone that was supposed to be mine if..." She trails off, looking confused. "If what? I can't remember."

My mind races. If Iris spoke to Gwenievere too, maybe she had a moment when Gwenievere was at the edge of death? Could this have been planned. Orchestrated? Part of something larger than trials or academies or even the realms themselves.

"What name?" Gabriel's voice comes from everywhere and nowhere, not manifested but present enough to be heard.

Gwenievere frowns, concentration making her child-face scrunch.

"I... I can't say it. It's like it's there but not there. Like trying to hold water."

Forbidden, then. Or protected.

Names that can't be spoken until conditions are met, until crowns are earned, until whatever game we're playing reaches its next phase.

"We have the third key," Zeke points out, ever practical with the reminder as he points to the floating key that only Gwenievere can claim. "We can reach the Academy now."

He's right.

The platform still holds its pedestal, the key of nothingness still floating in its sphere of light. In the chaos of near-drowning and revelation, we'd almost forgotten our original purpose.

“Can you manage to get the key, Gwenievere?” Atticus decide to ask her, giving off no sign of pressure. We can tell she’s exhausted, especially battling a fight like drowning in forbidden waters, but she perks up at the challenge and nods her head. He decides to take her from Cassius, using his swift speed to get them to the platform top with a blink. She stares at the key for a moment before retrieving it carefully, reverently, like handling something that might shake this realm of uncertainty and ignite another challenge that I realize we’re not ready for.

We hold our breaths, but as she takes the key, peace remains.

I can't shake the feeling that we're missing something essential.

Three keys to enter Wicked Academy.

But what keys open Deathshire?