Page 37

37

REED

I slipped into Professor Ironwood’s dream easier than I’d expected to, almost like ink bleeding into water. My magic saturated every corner of his subconscious.

I had been so afraid of this just months ago—walking through dreams, twisting them to my will, turning whispered fears in his subconscious into living nightmares. I actually seemed to enjoy this now, but I couldn’t play with his dream too much.

Tonight, I had a message to deliver.

After cross referencing his subconscious, I confirmed that Skel had been right about his deep-seated fear. It was one he’d had since his first year of teaching.

The man was a disgusting predator. Even if the reform students were legal adults, he was their professor, and he’d previously used grades as a way of getting students to sleep with him.

Coercion was not consent.

We really should just kill him and get it over with. It wasn’t the time to give anyone the benefit of the doubt—not when we had a dark magic cult seeking our deaths.

Disgust swelled in my throat as I crafted the scene around Ironwood, letting his previous dream about getting an award for teaching fall away. His lecture hall formed around him with every seat filled with eager, beautiful students. Their eyes glowed with adoration, lips parted in expectation as they listened to him speak. They all leaned forward, hands toying with pens and notebooks, bodies shifting suggestively.

Ironwood stood at the front, exuding confidence, basking in the worshipful gazes of his students—like he was on cloud nine. And he was. He had to be. It was only the more sweeter when he fell.

“Ironwood, you’re so inspiring,” a sultry voice purred from the front row.

Another student, a muscular young man, smirked. “Yeah, Professor. You’re the hottest teacher on campus. That’s why this is my favorite class.”

Gag.

I let the dream play out, letting Ironwood soak in the praise. I didn’t miss the flicker of pleasure on the man’s face. It was almost too easy to get him high on the dream.

With a whisper of intent, I shifted the dream into his nightmare.

“Ew. Please tell me he’s a grower?” someone gasped.

“No way! I think he’s hard,” another said.

“How would that even do anything for us?”

Ironwood looked down in confusion to find that his suit was gone. He was naked. Exposed .

He shrunk into himself.

His dream of the worshipful gazes had turned to wide eyes before snickers broke out. Then, the laughter. It started as small giggles, but it spread louder, crueler. Students pointed, whispering, mocking him.

Ironwood stumbled back, hands fumbling to cover himself. “No, I—this isn’t?—”

The laughter swallowed his words whole.

From the shadows of his nightmare, I stepped forward. My demonic form seeped out—horns curling from my skull, eyes burning with magic. The dream twisted, warping as the students’ laughter turned hollow but present, all around us.

Ironwood looked up, eyes wide, terror choking him. “W-who?—”

“You know who I am,” I growled, voice dripping with malice. “And you know why I’m here.”

Ironwood trembled, pressing himself against the desk as if he could melt into it. “I—I don’t?—”

I took a step closer, surprised he hadn’t realized who I was yet.

“Pandora,” I snarled, reaching out with my claws and grabbing him by the throat, dangling him in the air. “You will not speak to her. You will not even think of touching her again. You will not even let her name cross your thoughts.”

“Nyx?” Ironwood recognized me before he shook his head frantically. “I’m a professor—I wasn’t?—”

My lips curled back. “Oh, you were. And if you ever do it again, I will rip your dick off with my claws. I have torn a heart out through a dream before, you know? Never that kind of appendage, but there’s a first for everything. Or maybe Dex, Hunter, Bram, or Skel would like to play with your body parts…Dex did rip Nightwind’s dick off and shove it down his throat.”

“N—Nightwind’s missing.” Ironwood whimpered, shrinking into himself, eyes darting around, looking for an escape. “You’re lying.”

There was none.

“You believe that?” I leaned in with a low chuckle. “You will live in this nightmare every night now until I decide otherwise. Enjoy chatting with Headmistress Clearwater, by the way.” I let the words settle, then straightened as I dropped him to the ground. “Remember, Professor—next time, you won’t suffer in a nightmare. You’ll suffer in reality, and who knows who will be the one to do it?”

With that, I vanished out of his dreams, leaving Ironwood alone in his shame, drowning in his own fear.