Page 13 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Three (The Paranormal Elites of Wicked Academy #3)

They all turn to look at Gabriel, who responds with a shrug that somehow manages to be both childish and ancient.

"My sister seems to like you lot of weak fools." His tone suggests he finds this preference inexplicable but undeniable. "If she hasn't forsaken you, it should mean she wishes to protect you, despite your uselessness."

"You're gonna be the annoying brother-in-law," Atticus says, finally achieving vertical stability, "who makes it difficult for anyone to go near your sister, huh?"

Gabriel doesn't dignify this with a response.

Instead, his attention shifts to Nikki with an intensity that makes her shift uncomfortably.

The silence stretches as he stares at her, those impossible eyes seeing something the rest of us miss. The scrutiny is so complete that color rises in Nikki's cheeks, the blush visible even in this realm of shadow.

"What?" she finally asks, unable to bear the weight of his gaze.

He continues staring for another heartbeat, then speaks with unexpected directness.

"On land, you'd have a better chance as male. In water, you can revert to your feminine nature."

The statement hangs in the air like a prophecy or prescription.

Nikki's confusion is evident.

"Why?"

But Gabriel has already dismissed her, turning away as if the conversation never happened. The dismissal is so complete it's almost impressive.

Nikki huffs in frustration, looking to the rest of us for explanation. We share a meaningful look—none of us fully understand, but all of us recognize the weight of his words.

"Listen to him, Nikki," I say carefully. "It's not to outcast your true nature. I believe having duality in these realms will come in handy until we can reach the academy gates."

She frowns, genuine nervousness replacing frustration. Her gaze drops to her hands, and I notice the tremor there—fine shaking that speaks of fear deeper than our current circumstances.

Gabriel has moved while we talked, positioning himself directly in front of where Nikki still kneels. She notices his proximity and shifts back to sit on her heels, creating what distance she can.

"I just... need a moment," she says, but the excuse rings hollow.

Gabriel continues staring at her shaking hands.

When he speaks, his voice carries something it hasn't before: gentleness.

"Why are you afraid?"

The soft tone draws all our attention. This is different from his dismissive comments and ancient irritation.

This is... care? Concern? Something that doesn't fit with what we've seen so far.

Nikki meets his gaze, and something passes between them that makes my chest tight. When she speaks, her voice is barely above a whisper.

"I'm an abomination... so... why would I return to my true form if it's but blasphemy to everyone around me?"

The words hit like darts against a board. The self-hatred in them, the acceptance of others' judgment as absolute truth—it speaks of trauma that runs soul-deep.

How many times has she been told this…or better yet, how many times has she believed it?

My heart drops, recognizing the kind of wounds that don't heal easily. Maybe don't heal at all, just scar over enough to function.

Gabriel doesn't speak immediately.

Instead, he reaches out with one small hand, pressing it very lightly against her cheek. The gesture is so gentle, so unexpected from this ancient being in child form, that we all hold our breath.

Nikki's attention is entirely on him now, drawn by that impossible tenderness.

"These realms do not hate who you truly are," he says, and his voice carries the weight of absolute truth. "It's your kind that has plagued us into unworthiness that feeds rage and torment."

He pauses, thumb moving slightly to catch a tear that Nikki doesn't seem to realize has escaped.

The gesture is achingly human despite everything else about him.

"We don't hate you," he whispers, and there's something personal in the words now. "Just... your kind has never been genuine as your heart portrays."

The implications layer—not just about Nikki but about Fae in general. About betrayal and hurt that runs deeper than individual prejudice. About why this realm attacks her so viciously while accepting the rest of us.

He lets go then, stepping back and looking away as if embarrassed by his own gentleness.

When he speaks again, his tone has returned to its earlier brusqueness.

"My sister is up ahead. Follow."

He doesn't wait for a response or questions. His form simply fades, dissipating like smoke until even my enhanced vision can't track where he went.

We're left in our bubble of lesser darkness, processing what just happened.

"Did the scary ancient child just..." Atticus starts, then stops, unable to articulate what we all witnessed.

"Comfort me?" Nikki finishes, voice small and wondering. Her hand rises to touch where his had been, as if trying to preserve the unexpected kindness.

"I think he did," Mortimer says thoughtfully. "Which raises interesting questions about his true nature versus the front he presents."

I find myself thinking about stories—about villains and heroes, about who gets redemption and who gets destroyed. About two siblings sharing a body, one labeled dangerous and one labeled dark.

About the complex truth that neither might be what they seem.

"We should move," I say finally. "If Gwenivere is ahead, we need to reach her."

"Through that?" Nikki gestures toward the barrier of flame-touched magic that Gabriel had been studying. "How?"

I consider our options.

The barrier pulses with hostile intent, designed to keep out anything that doesn't belong. But we have something the barrier might not expect.

"We were invited," I point out. "Gabriel said to follow. In realms like this, invitation matters."

Mortimer nods slowly.

"Zeke's right. Permission granted by a legitimate authority…which Gabriel certainly seems to be…should allow passage."

"Should," Atticus emphasizes. "Not will."

"Only one way to find out," I say, moving toward the barrier.

The others follow, Nikki still visibly shaken by her interaction with Gabriel.

I find myself wondering what he saw in her that prompted such unexpected gentleness. What truth did those ancient eyes perceive that made him offer comfort instead of mockery?

As we approach the barrier, I think about loyalty. About choosing to stand with someone even if the world labels them villain. The way Gwenivere looked at me and saw person instead of tool.

Versus the way Gabriel looked at Nikki and saw pain that deserved acknowledgment instead of exploitation.

Perhaps the villain winning wouldn't be such a bad ending after all.

The barrier looms before us, beautiful and terrible. Through its translucent surface, I can almost see shapes moving—shadows that might be Cassius and Gwenivere, or might be something else entirely.

"Together?" I ask, looking at my companions.

They nod, even Nikki straightening with determination that pushes through her fear.

We step forward as one, trusting in the invitation of a child who is not a child, following a path laid by someone the world might call villain but who I call friend.

The barrier parts for us like silk, and we pass through into whatever waits beyond.