Page 3 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Three (The Paranormal Elites of Wicked Academy #3)
Trials Of Flame And Glass
~CASSIUS~
T he taste of his defiance still burns on my lips— sweet venom mixed with ancient fury that makes my shadows writhe with barely contained hunger.
Gabriel walks ahead of us, his stride carrying the unconscious authority of someone who's always belonged here, in this realm of fire and forgotten nightmares.
The way he moves through the oppressive heat, completely untouched while the rest of us struggle, sends conflicting waves of pride and concern through my system.
My Little Mouse has become hauntingly untouchable…
Not lost to me— never that —but transformed into something the academy never anticipated. The bond mark at my neck pulses with each step she takes, a constant reminder that whatever Gabriel or Gwenivere has become, she remains fundamentally mine .
I realize it doesn’t matter if her true, rooted gender is male and the objective was to be a female who infiltrated the academy for his personal motives, or if this has been the underlying root to this rollercoaster of a journey.
None of it matters in my mind.
"The terrain is shifting," Mortimer observes, his scholarly tone strained against the environmental assault. Sweat beads across his forehead despite whatever draconic resistance he possesses. "These aren't natural formations."
He's right.
The obsidian landscape rearranges itself with deliberate intent, paths appearing and disappearing like a living maze designed to test or trap. Rivers of lava carve new channels through the scorched earth, creating barriers that force us to adjust our route every few steps.
The very ground beneath our feet feels aware , responding to our presence with malevolent intelligence.
Nikki stumbles again, her body trembling with the effort of remaining upright.
The Fae princess— because that's what she truly is beneath all the forced disguises —looks like she's being systematically destroyed by this realm.
Her usual grace has been replaced by desperate determination, each breath a visible struggle against air that seems designed to reject her very existence.
"Here," Zeke murmurs, expanding his frost barrier to encompass her more fully.
The magical ice crystallizes in intricate patterns that would be beautiful if they weren't literally the only thing keeping her from combusting.
"The realm is specifically targeting Fae magic.
It's...personal. I’m intrigued by its hidden irony against your kind. "
The way he says 'personal' makes my shadows coil tighter.
There are layers to this place, histories written in flame and ash that we're only beginning to understand. Gabriel clearly knows more than he's revealed—his sudden awakening of memories has unlocked knowledge that makes him navigate this hellscape like he's come back home after a long oasis.
Which, apparently, he has.
None of us are acknowledging what he’d noted before we started this path: The gates of my academy…
The chances of possibility could be great, but the idea of Gwenivere, or Gabriel, being the lost heir of Wicked Academy seems farfetched…
Not impossible…but questionable.
However, the chances would make her arrival at Wicked Academy and her ability to be given grace despite her original female biology, now more acceptable. It still doesn’t answer how its possible.
"Totally…unfair to target an innocent fae for trying to survive,” Nikki mutters breathlessly. “But thanks for the frost bubble because without I’d be melting.”
"Gabriel," I call out, watching as he continues forward without acknowledging my voice. The distance between us feels both physical and metaphysical, as if his transformation has created a chasm I need to bridge through more than mere proximity. "The path ahead?—"
"I know what awaits," he cuts me off, not bothering to turn.
The coldness in his voice should chill me, but instead, it ignites something primal in my chest. This isn't rejection— it's defensive.
He's building walls because whatever memories have returned or been given to him carry enough pain to shatter lesser beings.
But I am not less. And neither is he.
Atticus moves up beside me, his crimson eyes tracking Gabriel's movement with predatory focus.
"He's pulling away from us," he observes, though his tone suggests calculation rather than concern. "The question is whether it's strategic or emotional."
"Both," I respond, surprised by my own certainty. "He remembers betrayal. Can taste it in the very air of this place."
It’s easier for me to pick up on it because I know how it feels. The constant betrayal by those who are the same and yet different enough to ostracize their own in ways of seclusion and forced hierarchy.
The vampire's eyebrow raises slightly.
"You can sense that through the bond?"
I don't answer directly, but my shadows extend toward where Gabriel walks, not touching but maintaining a constant awareness of his position. The connection between us has evolved during our trials, deepening into raw energy that transcends simple blood exchange — or passionate hot sex.
I can feel the storm raging beneath his controlled exterior—fury mixed with grief, determination poisoned by memories of devastation.
"Contact ahead," Mortimer announces, pointing toward structures emerging from the heat haze. "Stone pillars. And...hmmm. A being…or beings, guarding them."
The ‘beings' becomes visible as we approach— a massive fire serpent coiled around ancient pillars that stretch impossibly high into the burning sky . Its scales shimmer with internal flame, each movement sending waves of superheated air that make even Zeke's frost magic flicker and strain.
Eyes like molten gold track our approach with intelligence that suggests this is no mindless guardian.
"A gatekeeper," Gabriel states, finally stopping his relentless forward progress. "One of three. Each guards a key required to enter the academy proper."
"Three?" Nikki's voice cracks on the word. "I can barely survive walking. How are we supposed to?—"
" We aren't supposed to do anything," Gabriel interrupts, his tone carrying that same detached coldness. "These trials were designed for those who belong here. The rest of you are...complications."
Well, isn’t that a nice way of saying we’re not needed.
The dismissal in his voice makes my shadows surge with irritation.
Before I can respond, Nikki straightens despite her obvious suffering.
"Complications?" The Fae princess's voice gains strength from somewhere deep within. "After everything we've survived together, we're complications ?"
Something flickers in Gabriel's expression—a crack in the ice he's wrapped around himself. But before he can respond, the fire serpent uncoils with terrifying speed.
"INTERLOPERS," it speaks, voice like roaring flame. "ONLY THOSE OF INFERNAL BLOOD MAY PASS. ALL OTHERS BURN."
Nikki steps forward before anyone can stop her.
"Then I'll give you something else to focus on," she declares, Fae wind magic erupting from her damaged form with desperate intensity.
The magic that emerges shouldn't be possible given her weakened state.
Winds howl through the oppressive atmosphere, carrying with them the scent of spring meadows and winter frost—everything antithetical to this realm of eternal flame.
The serpent reels back, more in surprise than pain, its attention momentarily diverted from our group.
"Now!" Mortimer shouts, scholarly reserve abandoned as he transforms partially. Dragon scales ripple across his skin as he absorbs the ambient flames, pulling the environmental fire into himself with visible effort.
The heat around us drops several degrees as he creates a temporary shield of consumed flame.
"The altar," Zeke points through the chaos. "There—the first key!"
I see it— a blazing altar nestled between the pillars, crowned with an object that pulses with internal light.
Without thinking, I send my shadows racing forward, using the distraction Nikki and Mortimer have created.
The tendrils of darkness stretch across superheated stone, reaching for the key with desperate precision.
The moment my shadows touch the altar, agony races through our connection. The key isn't merely hot—it's hostile , designed to burn anything that dares claim it. I grit my teeth, forcing my shadows to maintain their grip despite the pain that makes my vision blur.
"Cassius!" Gabriel's voice cuts through everything—no longer cold or distant but sharp with concern. He's moving before I fully register it, his hand extending toward where my shadows struggle with the burning key.
"Don't—" I start to warn him, but he's already there.
His fingers close around the key without hesitation, lifting it from the altar as if it weighs nothing.
No burns mark his flesh.
No pain flickers across her features.
The key simply... submits, its hostile fire dimming to a gentle glow in his grasp.
"The first seal," he murmurs, and for a moment, I see something ancient in the depths of his eyes.
Recognition. Remembrance. Sorrow.
The fire serpent's roar of rage snaps us back to immediate danger.
Nikki's wind magic falters, her body finally succumbing to the sustained effort. She collapses just as the serpent's tail whips toward her with lethal intent.
Mortimer intercepts, his partial dragon form taking the hit with a sound like thunder. Scales crack under the impact, golden blood spraying across obsidian stone. He doesn't cry out— ancient dignity maintaining even through obvious agony —but I see the damage in how he staggers.
"Mortimer!" Zeke rushes to his side, frost magic already shifting to healing properties. "Where's the worst damage?"
"Left ribs," Mortimer gasps, one hand pressed to his side where scales have been completely shattered. "And something's wrong with my fire absorption. I can't—" He coughs, more golden blood speckling the ground.