Page 84 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

"And you survived the child trials?"

I blink, processing.

"Wait... so me being a child was on purpose?"

The transformation I'd attributed to realm weirdness or magical mishap was actually intentional? Part of the trial design?

"The trials were not only for facing death at its rawest and strongest," Professor Eternalis explains, "but to see how one's team would respond when the leader is suddenly a disadvantage."

Each word lands with precision, explaining what we experienced without apology for what it cost.

"What better way to test that than forcing you into a child who hasn't reached the age experienced enough in all arts of survival? Six is the perfect age for such."

The calculation of it makes me simultaneously impressed and furious. They turned me into a six-year-old specifically because that age would be most vulnerable, most dependent, most likely to get everyone killed if the team couldn't adapt.

"No way," Nikolai whispers, voicing the disbelief we're all feeling.

Atticus, ever practical even in shock, asks a different question.

"Was crossing the waters included?"

The question makes my blood freeze. The waters where we discovered Deathshire Academy, where Iris spoke of futures and chalices and things we're clearly not supposed to know yet?—

Professor Eternalis frowns, the first sign of confusion I've seen from her.

"There were no water trials."

The words hang between us like a sword waiting to drop.

We all exchange looks, quick and worried.

If the waters weren't part of the trial, if we've stumbled onto something outside the Academy's design?—

I laugh suddenly.

The sound surprises everyone, including me, but I lean into it. Make it performance rather than panic.

"You were drunk on blood, Atticus, remember?"

I give him a look that hopefully conveys 'play along or we're all dead' with sufficient clarity.

Atticus catches on immediately—centuries of vampire politics making him expert at reading unspoken communications. He laughs too, the sound more natural than mine.

"They say purebloods are the easiest to get blood drunk. I'd be seeing oceans in the heart of a desert!"

The explanation is ridiculous.

Blood drunk vampires don't have group hallucinations about specific waters with consistent details. But it's better than admitting we've discovered something that might get us killed for knowing.

The others laugh too, forcing mirth that sounds hollow but might pass for exhaustion rather than deception. Even Mortimer manages a scholarly chuckle, though it sounds like he's reading it from a textbook on appropriate emotional responses.

Professor Eternalis studies us for a long moment.

Her gaze is penetrating, seeming to peel back layers to examine what lies beneath.

But either our performance is sufficient or she chooses to let it pass, because she nods once.

"You have passed and may make way to the side."