Page 94 of Academy of the Wicked, Year One
I think of Damien first, the abrasive incubus whose sharp tongue and seductive demeanor hide something deeper.
Is he really the asshole he seems to be, or is there more beneath the surface? Perhaps he’s a piece of work with self-esteem issues, covering his vulnerabilities with bravado and charm.
Then there’s Nikolai, with his radiant energy that feels like blooming flowers bathed in sunlight.
Does he have a warm, loving side to match the brilliance of his power? Or is his golden aura merely a mask, a facade to shield him from the harsh realities of this world?
Mortimer…his name lingers in my mind longer than I expected.
What knowledge does he hold, and why is he among the Seven? He seems so different from the others, as though he carries a fragment of mercy in a place devoid of it. Is that mercy genuine, or is it a calculated illusion?
And then there’s Cassius and Grim.
My thoughts linger on them the longest, my heart twisting with an ache I can’t fully comprehend. I wonder what conversations Cassius and I could’ve had in the quiet depths of the long night, where shadows stretch endlessly and secrets come alive. Would we have shared moments of steamy intimacy, his tendrils wrapping around me, their touch both sinful and consuming?
Would Grim have grown beyond his shadowy form, finding a way to communicate in more than just puffs of smoke?
If I survived, I would’ve gone back to my roots.
I would’ve explored where my magical gifts truly came from, whether they were born within me or passed down. I would’ve learned to use other weapons and honed skills that would make me more than just a fighter.
I would’ve smiled more…
Laughed more…
Allowed myself to be vulnerable in ways I’ve never dared.
But now…
It’s too late now.
The boy’s voice pulls me back from the haze of my thoughts.
“Farewell,”he mutters, his tone almost regretful.
I close my eyes, letting the words settle over me like a final curtain call.
I don’t fight it. I don’t resist.
The end is here, and I’m ready to embrace it.
I wait for the scythe’s bite, for the darkness to consume me entirely. Perhaps I’ll be trapped in this abyss, a soul among thousands, waiting for someone stronger to break the cycle.
But then… everything shifts.
The sound of shattering glass pierces the void, sharp and deafening. It’s a sound so jarring that it makes me flinch, my body trembling despite its weakness.
The boy’s shadow wavers, his presence faltering for the first time. The oppressive aura around me shatters like a fragile pane, the shards scattering into the emptiness.
My drooping eyes fight to open, though it feels like dragging leaden weights.
Through the haze of my vision, I sense a presence behind me, something vast and overpowering. The pulsing mark on my neck burns with a sudden intensity, as though reacting to the newcomer.
With immense effort, I manage to tilt my head just enough to glimpse over my shoulder. My breath catches, my body locking in place despite the weakness coursing through me.
A figure looms in the darkness, shrouded in shadow yet unmistakably there.
His pure white hair glows faintly, a stark contrast to the void surrounding him. His eyes, completely white and devoid of pupils, burn with an otherworldly light that seems to pierce straight through me. His aura is suffocating, an overwhelming force that makes the boy’s presence feel insignificant in comparison.
