Page 82 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

The question is reasonable.

Zeke has made references to his own multiple lives, the particular immortality of feline shifters.

Surely Raven, being half-feline, would have some version of that protection?

But Zeke's silence speaks volumes.

The lack of answer seems to trigger something in Damien. He rises swiftly, blood covering his hands and knees from where he'd knelt in the spreading pool. His face transforms from grief to rage as he turns to glare at Professor Eternalis.

"REVIVE HER!"

The demand cracks like a whip, but Professor Eternalis doesn't even flinch. She stands there, calmly meeting his trembling fury with the particular stillness of those who've seen too much to be moved by tantrums.

"How dare you slice her throat when we've been victorious? This makes no fucking sense! We made it by following what was privileged to us, and you just killed our guide!"

His voice rises with each word, hysteria creeping in at the edges.

The entitlement is staggering—as if following shortcuts somehow grants immunity from consequences.

Professor Eternalis shakes her head slowly, deliberately.

When she speaks, her voice carries authority that makes the air itself pay attention.

"Cheating will not be tolerated at Wicked Academy."

The words are simple, but the weight behind them makes them feel like natural law being stated rather than rule being enforced.

"Especially," she continues, and now there's something darker in her tone, "by an abomination."

Damien's eyes widen with shock before narrowing into slits of pure hatred.

His arm darts out suddenly, one finger pointing directly at me with the particular accuracy of accusation.

"My Raven is an abomination, but you accept that hybrid?!"

The possessiveness in 'my Raven' makes my skin crawl. She was a person, not property, regardless of what arrangements they'd made.

"Slice her head off then, if that's what you deem as cheating!"

The command falls on deaf ears.

Professor Eternalis remains standing there, unimpressed by his demands, unmoved by his rage. The height difference is suddenly apparent—she towers over him, over all of us really.

Here in Year Three, she must be well over seven feet tall, though the proportions don't seem wrong so much asemphasized. As if the realm itself is showing us what she really is beneath the constraints of lower years.

Damien's voice cracks with desperation.

"Why was she killed? We don't understand at all!"

The confusion seems genuine.

He truly doesn't comprehend why his shortcut has resulted in death rather than reward. The particular blindness of those who've never faced real consequences.

Zeke begins moving forward then.

The motion seems to give us permission to follow, though we exchange wary glances first. After what we just witnessed, approaching Professor Eternalis feels like approaching a force of nature—necessary but potentially fatal.

My men surround me as we move, positioning themselves at every corner. Cassius to my left, shadows coiled and ready. Atticus to my right, blood magic humming beneath his skin. Nikolai behind, recovered enough from Damien's presence to be protective rather than protected. Mortimer flanking him, scholarly demeanor replaced by dragon wariness.