Page 67 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One
It's not a question, but he inclines his head slightly in acknowledgment.
"I am one of the Seven," he reminds me. "There are certain aspects of the trials that I'm... intimately familiar with."
"And you can't warn us because...?"
"Because that would defeat the purpose," he says simply. "The trials must be faced genuinely, without preparation or foreknowledge."
I roll my eyes.
"That's the fancy way of saying 'we like to watch you suffer,' isn't it?"
His smile is answer enough.
The tunnel takes a sharp turn, and suddenly we're facing what appears to be a solid wall of pure shadow. It's different from Cassius's darkness — more ancient, more absolute. The kind of darkness that exists in the spaces between stars.
Nikolai's hand tightens slightly around mine.
"This is where we transform you back into Gabriel," he says quietly. "The trials' entrance won't accept your current form."
I nod, closing my eyes to gather my magic. But before I can begin the change, Mortimer's voice cuts through my concentration.
"Wait."
Opening my eyes, I find him studying me with that unnervingly intense gaze.
"What is it?"
His pale hands move through the air, weaving patterns that shimmer with death magic.
"Before you change, I need to add another layer of protection." His fingers continue their intricate dance. "Something to complement the bond mark's effects while providing its own safeguards."
"Is this really necessary?" I ask, though I remain still as his magic begins to coalesce around me. "I mean, I've got the glamour, the mark, and apparently an entire collection of royal babysitters."
"Humor me," he replies dryly. "Consider it professional interest in keeping our newest addition alive."
The magic he's weaving feels different from anything I've encountered before. It's neither warm like Nikolai's Fae energy nor cold like Cassius's shadows. Instead, it carries a sort of... neutrality. Like the pause between heartbeats or the moment between sleeping and waking.
"This will help maintain your masculine form," he explains as the magic settles into my skin. "Even if your own power becomes depleted. It should also provide additional protection against temporal distortions."
"Temporal what now?"
"Time moves differently in the trials," Cassius speaks up unexpectedly. "What feels like hours inside could be days outside, or vice versa."
"Of course it does," I mutter. "Because this place isn't complicated enough already."
The magic Mortimer's weaving suddenly tightens around me, making me gasp. It feels like being wrapped in a blanket made of starlight — cool and weightless but undeniably present.
"There," he says with satisfaction. "That should help prevent any unfortunate revelations at inopportune moments."
"Thanks," I manage, still adjusting to the strange sensation. "I think."
Nikolai reluctantly releases my hand, stepping back to give me space for the transformation. I immediately miss his warmth, which is ridiculous and not at all helpful in our current situation.
Taking a deep breath, I gather my magic once again.
The glamour responds instantly, flowing over me like water. I feel my body shift and change, becoming taller, broader, more masculine. The uniform adjusts seamlessly, maintaining that perfect fit despite my altered form.
When I open my eyes, I find them all staring at me with varying expressions.
