And smile.
The expression is genuine—softness entering features that have been hard with accusation, warmth replacing the cold that judgment required.
"But I do."
The declaration carries conviction that comes from genuine understanding.
"I know what they yearned for," I say. "And through those gates will lead to the answers I've been yearning for."
My voice grows stronger.
"And now I have the seven men who will replace the structure you thought was right."
I let that promise hang in the air.
"At least... when it's time for them to ascend to their roles as the new Seven."
The vision of what we're building crystallizes in my words.
"The Seven Paranormal Elites of Wicked Academy."
I pause, letting the title settle.
"But that will be after we get to build ourselves the way we know how."
My voice carries the particular warmth of hope finally finding expression.
"Together."
She hisses.
The sound carries desperation that her usual composure never permitted.
"No!"
The denial is almost a scream.
"Elena will ruin you all!"
Her ancient voice cracks with something that might be genuine concern or might be final manipulation.
"She will kill you!"
I lean in.
The motion closes the distance between us—barrier still separating us, lava still threatening her, but my presence pressing against the invisible wall with intensity that probably shows in every line of my body.
My smile couldn't be more ruthless.
"Eleanor is too weak to be physically here," I whisper. "That's your purpose. To stand in his stead."
I let the implication build.
"But what happens when you perish, hmm?"
The question lands with the particular weight of sentences that seal fates.
Her ancient eyes widen.
