Page 5 of Academy of the Wicked, Year Three (The Paranormal Elites of Wicked Academy #3)

Trials Of Ruin And Devastation

~CASSIUS~

T he second guardian makes the fire serpent look like a house pet.

It stands thirty feet tall, a horned beast forged from volcanic glass that seems to drink in light. Every surface reflects distorted images of ourselves—twisted versions that show our fears made manifest.

In its reflections, I see myself alone, shadows dissipating into nothing while Gabriel walks away without looking back.

I try to ignore the coiling depths of dread that dare to taunt me in the pit of my stomach.

"Magnificent," Mortimer breathes, scholarly appreciation overriding survival instinct. "Obsidian elemental, but the craftsmanship... this is ancient work. Pre-realm construction."

Are we surprised that out of all of us, Mortimer would be the intrigued one in such a frightening scenario?

Nope. Not surprised at all.

"Can we appreciate it from a distance?" Atticus suggests, pulling Nikki further back as the beast's attention focuses on our group. "Preferably while running in the opposite direction?"

He let’s go of Nikki when she mutters she can stand on her own, moving closer to us, ready to move just as we all widen our stance in anticipation to fight this being in question. Guess that sets the beast off, because its response is to charge.

Fuck…

The ground shatters under its weight, each step creating spider web cracks that glow with molten light.

There's no dodging something that large moving that fast—only reacting.

My shadows surge upward, forming a defensive wall that the beast smashes through like tissue paper.

The impact sends me flying, body hitting scorched earth with enough force to drive the air from my lungs.

Through blurred vision, I see Nikki step forward again.

"No," I try to call out, but my voice emerges as a wheeze.

She raises her hands, Fae magic shimmering around her like desperate hope. Charm magic—I recognize the signs, the subtle shift in atmospheric pressure that indicates she's trying to influence the beast's mind. For a moment, it seems to work. The creature slows, its charge becoming less focused.

Then its massive hand swipes almost casually, catching Nikki across the torso.

The sound of breaking ribs echoes across the hellscape.

She flies through the air in a graceful arc that ends with brutal finality against a jutting spire of obsidian. Blood— too much blood —spreads beneath her still form.

"NIKKI!" The scream tears from multiple throats simultaneously.

Atticus moves with vampire speed, reaching her before her body fully settles. His hands shake as he checks for signs of life, crimson eyes wide with something I've rarely seen in the ancient vampire— genuine fear.

The beast turns its attention to the rest of us, volcanic glass body shifting with each movement. Mortimer attempts dragon fire, the flames hot enough to melt ordinary stone. They wash over the creature without effect, absorbed into its form like water into sand.

"Dragon fire at that temperature should have at least scored the surface," Mortimer gasps, scholarly mind racing even as he dodges a swipe that would have removed his head. "It's not just absorbing—it's feeding ."

Zeke's frost magic fares no better.

He creates intricate patterns in the air— snowflakes the size of shields, each one reinforced with magical intent that should flash-freeze anything it touches.

They strike the beast and simply cease to exist, not even creating steam.

The absence of reaction is more terrifying than any explosion would have been.

"Conventional magic won't work," Mortimer shouts, rolling away from a foot that craters the ground where he'd been standing. "It's designed to counter standard elemental approaches!"

I push myself upright, shadows coiling despite the pain.

If traditional attacks fail, perhaps something more primal will succeed.

Duskwalker magic isn't elemental in the conventional sense— we manipulate absence, void, the spaces between reality.

My shadows race along the ground, not attacking directly but seeking gaps in the creature's form. Every construct has weakness, points where the magic binding it grows thin.

I just need to find ? —

The beast's foot comes down where I'm searching, forcing me to recall my shadows or lose them entirely. Its intelligence is obvious—this isn't a mindless guardian but a tactical opponent.

"Spread out!" I command, sending tendrils of darkness in multiple directions. "Don't give it a single target!"

We scatter, but the beast moves with impossible speed for something its size. Its arm sweeps in a wide arc, volcanic glass fingers extended like blades. I see Gabriel directly in its path, standing still as if observing rather than participating.

Not happening.

I move without thinking, shadows propelling me forward as I wrap an arm around Gabriel's waist and pull .

We go tumbling together, the beast's attack passing through space we'd occupied milliseconds before.

The ground where we'd been standing doesn't just crack—it liquefies , stone turning to lava in an instant.

"Get off me," Gabriel growls, trying to push away even as molten rock bubbles where we would have died.

"You're welcome for saving your life," I respond, not loosening my grip. His body feels different against mine—harder somehow, as if the awakened memories have transformed him physically as well as mentally. "Unless you were planning to test your newfound immunity to being pulverized?"

"I don't need?—"

"You need to stop being an idiot," I interrupt, hauling us both upright as the beast prepares another attack. "Your dramatic brooding can wait until after we survive."

He glares at me with those transformed eyes—silver shot through with veins of gold that pulse with internal fire.

"I am not brooding ."

"Right, you're 'remembering ancient wrongs' or whatever poetic?—"

"Shut up," he snarls, but there's something almost familiar in his irritation. A crack in the cold facade. "And stop holding me."

"Make me," I challenge, tightening my arm around his waist as the ground beneath us begins to glow with warning heat. "Unless you've forgotten, I'm rather fond of holding what's mine."

"Cassius, I swear to every hell that exists?—"

The ground erupts.

Not gradually, but in an instant transformation from solid to liquid fire. I don't think—just react. My shadows surge downward, not to fight the lava but to become an element that can counter its desire for our demise.

The darkness coalesces, taking shape with desperate purpose.

A serpent of pure shadow rises from the molten stone, its massive head lifting us above the destruction.

My creation moves with fluid grace, shadow-flesh immune to the heat that would destroy physical matter.

Its body extends back toward the others, tail weaving between erupting geysers of lava with protective intent.

"Everybody on!" I shout, guiding the shadow serpent to collect our scattered group. Atticus leaps aboard with Nikki's injured form, while Mortimer helps boost Zeke toward safety.

The volcanic beast roars its fury, massive fists pounding the ground and sending fresh waves of lava in all directions. But we're above it now, riding my serpent as it navigates the hellscape with surprising grace.

"Impressive," Gabriel admits grudgingly, though he's stopped trying to escape my hold. "Your shadow work has evolved."

"Flattered you noticed," I respond, directing the serpent to weave between the beast's grasping hands. "Now, any chance you want to actually help instead of waiting for the dramatically appropriate moment?"

His jaw tightens.

"You don't understand?—"

"I understand you're letting pride get people hurt," I snap back. "Whatever you are now, whoever you were before, these people— our people—are dying for you."

The beast's tactics change.

Instead of wild swings, it begins creating patterns of destruction. Lava erupts in coordinated geysers, forcing my serpent into increasingly narrow paths. It's learning, adapting to our aerial advantage.

"Zeke, freeze the lava!" I call out. "Create platforms!"

He responds immediately, frost magic pouring from his hands in concentrated streams. Where ice meets lava, obsidian platforms form—temporary solid ground in the sea of molten stone. But the effort is clearly draining him, his face pale with exertion.

The beast notices too.

Its attention shifts with predatory focus, volcanic glass eyes fixing on Zeke with calculated intent. One massive arm draws back, not for a wild swing but a precise strike aimed directly at the exhausted shifter.

"Tail, now!" I command my serpent, trying to direct it to grab Zeke.

But the beast anticipated this.

Its other hand sweeps low, forcing my creation to dodge or be shattered. The maneuver leaves Zeke exposed, standing alone on his created platform as death descends.

Time seems to slow as I watch the massive fist aimed directly at the cat shifter. Zeke sees it coming—I can see the recognition in those extraordinary eyes—but he doesn't dodge. Instead, he plants his feet, frost magic gathering around him in a last desperate shield.

No—not desperate.

Accepting .

He's going to let it hit him. Going to face destruction head-on rather than retreat.

"ZEKE!" The growl tears from my throat, shadows racing to intercept but already knowing they'll be too late. My serpent's tail stretches desperately, but the beast's positioning has made rescue impossible.

The fist descends like judgment.

And stops.

One inch from Zeke's frost barrier, the massive attack simply... halts.

Gabriel stands on the serpent's head beside me, one finger raised in a gesture so casual it takes a moment to process what's happened. He hasn't shown any sign of exertion. The beast's entire attack has been stopped by a single lifted finger.

But that's not what makes my breath catch.

It's the markings.