Ever After High did not look like your typical campus. Perched on a bluff, the school itself was a hodgepodge of halls, rooms, and towers that rose high above the Village of Book End. Some of the towers were so tall that they pierced through the clouds.

All the balconies provided breathtaking views of the surrounding forests, farmlands, and meadows. Trees were welcome to grow inside, and so they became part of the structure, supporting ceilings with their branches and cementing the foundation with their roots. It was a living building of sorts, filled to the brim with energy and magic. And stairs.

Lots and lots of stairs.

Duchess, Lizzie, and you stood at the end of a hallway, in front of a narrow door with a sign that read, TO THE DUNGEON.

Lizzie: Ugh! I hate dungeons.

Dutchess: Me too.

The dungeon back home had a few ancient skeletons and smelled like rotten eggs. She’d gone down there once, on a dare from the cook’s boy. She never went again.

Y/N: Complain all you want. We have to go down there eventually.

It made perfect sense that a class specializing in villainy would be held in a dreary place. At least you wouldn’t have to spend more than a few minutes down there. You'll get Mr. Badwolf’s permission to transfer and be on your way.

The stone stairs were steep and slippery.

Lizzie: Did I miss the hext about wearing hiking boots?

Lizzie grumbled as she clung to the wrought iron railing. Her red heels were not designed for this sort of terrain. Duchess’s shoes weren’t much better, but she wasn’t going to take them off and risk stepping on a spider, or something worse. Your boots were better suited for this, but even you had some trouble climbing down without slipping.

Just above your heads, stone hands stuck out of the wall. Each hand held a lighted torch. The flames cast strange shadows. Cobwebs sparkled between the stones. Something darted in front of you.

Dutchess: Was that a rat?

Echo: A rat… a rat… a rat...

Lizzie: A rat the size of a cat.

Shuffle squealed and burrowed deeper into Lizzie’s bag.

Lizzie: Oh my wand, there’s another one. Professor Piper needs to clean this place up.

Y/N: Yeah. I'll be sure to talk to Milton about better conditions later.

You reached the bottom of the stairwell, only to find another set of stairs, this one even narrower and steeper than the last. Lizzie groaned.

Lizzie: You’d think that Headmaster Grimm could at least put an elevator in this place. Seriously. Don’t the villains deserve better?

There was some truth to that. Villains were just as welcome at Ever After High as the heroes. Both had equally important roles to play in fairytales. Without darkness, there couldn’t be light.

Dutchess: An elevator would be nice.

She brushed a cobweb from her nose. She couldn’t wait to be in the fresh air again. Neither her ballet side nor her swan side wanted to be underground. Dancers jump; birds fly. Dancers leap; birds soar. They do not tunnel!

Another sign waited at the bottom of the second stairwell.

Y/N: Cauldron room.

With Lizzie still in the lead, you hurried down the dimly lit corridor. Dampness glistened on the stone walls. Pairs of small red eyes glowed from the ceiling. You all doubled your pace.

The door to the cauldron room had been propped open by an empty cauldron.

Lizzie: It’s hot in here.

The feather on Duchess’s headpiece immediately wilted. It was like stepping into a sauna. The source of the heat was a fire burning in a large stone hearth. Three cauldrons were suspended over the flames. The first bubbled with thick green swamp water. The second popped and sizzled with blood-red lava. The third swirled like a whirlpool of mud.

Lizzie and Duchess both peeled off their jackets. You debated about doing the same, you didn’t know if any scars would be visible, but you ended up doing so anyway. Dutchess did notice a few scars, but she chose not to start up another conversation.

???: It’s much cooler over here.

Her name was Ginger Breadhouse. She was sitting on a wooden stool, as were three other students. The remaining three stools were empty.

The bell rang. Lizzie hurried across the stone floor and grabbed one of the stools. She set her book bag on the floor, then waved for Duchess and you to join her. But Duchess decided to stand by the door and wait for the teacher. No reason to get comfortable if she wasn’t staying. You, in the other hand, did not feel like standing around in such a hot room.

Besides, who knows when the teacher would get here?

A deep clearing of a throat startled Duchess. Mr. Badwolf entered the room, a clipboard in his hands. He was immaculately dressed in a three-piece plaid suit, a pocket kerchief, and a bright red necktie. His gray hair hung in thick, luxurious waves. He sniffed the air, then looked at Duchess with his yellow canine eyes. Her heart fluttered for a moment. Wolves are hunters. If she turned into a swan at that very moment, would he pounce on her?

But no pouncing occurred. Nor did he ask Duchess why she was standing alone by the door and not sitting with the others. He adjusted his tie, then strode across the room.

Mr. Badwolf: Welcome, future villains, I am your instructor, Mr. Badwolf.

Dutchess: Excuse me, but there’s been a mistake.

She held out her letter.

Dutchess: I’m listed in this class, but I’m not supposed to be here. My name is Duchess Swan.

Mr. Badwolf: Yes, I know who you are.

Dutchess: Oh, great. Well, then I’d like your permission to transfer to another class. Something more fitting.

Mr. Badwolf: More fitting?

He raised his bushy eyebrows.

Mr. Badwolf: Are you not good enough for this class, Ms. Swan?

One of the students giggled. You just sighed. Looks like you weren't getting out of this class.

Duchess squared her shoulders.

Dutchess: Of course I’m good enough. I’m good enough to do anything. But I’m not evil. I mean, there’s no evil in my bloodline. So I don’t think I should be in a villain class.

Mr. Badwolf: Is that what you think?

He took the parchment from her and wrote in big red letters: TRANSFER DENIED. Then he handed the parchment back.

Dutchess: But…

Mr. Badwolf growled. It wasn’t a ferocious, loud growl—rather it was soft, as if given as a warning.

Mr. Badwolf: Sit down, Ms. Swan.

Duchess gasped. Then, with angry footsteps, she marched over to the last stool and sat with a loud hmph. You were just surpised to see Mr. Badwolf in full teacher mode. The last time you saw him, he was about to fight an entire village to protect Cerise.

Lizzie: Bet you’re feeling a little bit evil now.

She was. She wanted to give Mr. Badwolf a piece of her mind. She wanted to tell him that not only was she good enough for this class, but also that she was better than this class and everyone in it!

Mr. Badwolf stood with his feet wide apart, holding the clipboard behind his back.

Mr. Badwolf: Does anyone else have any personal issues they’d like to bring to my attention?

He was clearly being sarcastic, but Lizzie’s hand shot up anyway.

Lizzie: Yes, I have a whole list of issues. I would like this class to begin later. It’s soooo early and I need extra time in the morning to find everything because my playing-card army is back in Wonderland. I also think we need to have an elevator installed. I cannot be expected to hike up those stairs every day in my heels. And the rats are scaring my hedgehog. I’d like you to do something about that.

She folded her hands in her lap, waiting for his response.

The big wall clock tick-tocked. The cauldrons bubbled. But none of the students said anything. They sat, waiting to see what Mr. Badwolf would do. Duchess figured that if he helped Lizzie with some of her requests, then surely he’d reconsider Duchess’s request for a transfer.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at Lizzie.

Mr. Badwolf: If you are worried about rats, Ms. Hearts, then I suggest you and your hedgehog each get a rabies shot. I get mine every year.

He jangled a tag that hung on a chain around his neck.

The only boys in the class laughed. You, and the other was Sparrow Hood. Lizzie shot you both a nasty look.

Lizzie: I have no intention of getting a rabies shot. I got all my shots back in Wonderland. I’ve been vaccinated for walrus warts, teapox, and March Hare madness.

Mr. Badwolf ignored her. He removed his pocket kerchief and brushed dust from the edge of his desk. Then he sat.

Mr. Badwolf: General Villainy is one of the most demanding classes at Ever After High. If you manage to get an A grade, you will join the ranks of students before you such as the Wicked Stepmother, the Billy Goats Gruff Troll, and myself, of course.

He smiled, revealing a row of sharp canine teeth.

An A was the highest grade in each class. Duchess had a perfect score of A’s on her transcript. You also had perfect A's.....save for Kingdom Management. You had an A++++-+!

You did a lot of extra credit.

Mr. Badwolf continued.

Mr. Badwolf: Each of you has been hand-selected by the headmaster himself to attend this class because each of you has the honor of being the son or daughter of a confirmed villain or being closely related to someone evil.

Duchess’s hand shot up.

Dutchess: Um, excuse me, but...

His eyes flashed.

Mr. Badwolf: Interruptions are not allowed in my classroom.

Her hand fell to her side. What a grouch.

Mr. Badwolf: As I was saying, each of you is here because you come from an evil bloodline. Or....

He looked at you and Duchess.

Mr. Badwolf: You have the capacity to be the first in your family to go bad.

Go bad?

A chill ran up Duchess’s spine. You just sat there confused.

While the cauldrons provided a background melody of crackling and popping, Mr. Badwolf tapped his finger on the clipboard. His fingers were furry and his nails were long and black. They looked like claws. He seriously needed a mani-curse at the Tower Hair Salon.

Mr. Badwolf: Roll call. First up, Faybelle Thorn.

The girl sitting next to Duchess slid off her stool.

Faybelle: Here!

Duchess didn’t know this girl. In fact, she’d never seen her before. She was dressed in midnight-blue leggings and a shimmering tunic.

Faybelle: I am sooooooo happy to be here. I’ve been waiting for this class my entire life.

As she smiled at Mr. Badwolf, a pair of little iridescent wings unfurled from her back.

Y/N: Wait a second. Weren't you the one who tried to hex my sister's muffin?

Faybelle: Guilty!

You frowned. The girl was a fairy, but not the small kind who worked throughout the school and lived in the Enchanted Forest. Human-sized fairies could be notoriously wicked.

Mr. Badwolf: I admire your exuberance, Ms. Thorn, but an overflowing exhibition of happiness is not evil.

Faybelle stopped smiling.

Mr. Badwolf: You have been selected for this class, Ms. Thorn, because your mother is the Dark Fairy, who cursed Sleeping Beauty. Would you like to tell the class a little about yourself?

Faybelle: You bet.

Faybelle pulled a pair of pom-poms from her book bag, then cartwheeled to the front of the class.

Faybelle: Faybelle, Faybelle, she’s the one! She’s the one who’ll make evil fun!

Each time she jumped, her little wings beat the air.

Faybelle: Give me an E. Give me a V. Give me an I. Give me an L. What does that spell?

No one answered.

Faybelle floated a foot off the ground.

Faybelle: Come on, team! Where’s your Ever After spirit? What does that spell?

Y/N: It spells evil.

Faybelle blinked her fairy eyes. Then she flew over to you and floated in front of you.

Y/N: I wasn’t asking you, because you don’t belong in General Villainy class.

You shrugged. Despite the fact that she was being snooty about it, Faybelle was making your point for you.

Mr. Badwolf: Your snarkiness is appreciated, Ms. Thorn.

Mr. Badwolf he wrote on his clipboard.

Mr. Badwolf: Hextra credit for you.

Faybelle smirked at you, then returned to her stool. But not before aiming fairy dust right up your nose. You sneezed.

Mr. Badwolf ran his finger down the clipboard.

Mr. Badwolf: Next up is Ginger Breadhouse.

Ginger: Here.

Ginger stood and waved to everyone. Her pink hair was tied into ponytails, and all the embellishments on her dress made her look like a decorated cookie.

Mr. Badwolf: Ginger has been selected for this class because her mother is the Candy Witch, who tried to eat Hansel and Gretel. Would you like to tell the class a little about yourself?

Everyone already knew Ginger. She did a Mirror-Cast show called Spells Kitchen, during which she made fabulous desserts. Ginger walked to the front of the class, a box tied with yellow ribbon in her hands.

Ginger: I just want you to know that even though my mom tried to eat some kids, I would never do that.

Her eyes twinkled behind her pink glasses.

Ginger: I love to cook, but none of my recipes call for boys or girls.

She tugged on the yellow ribbon, then opened the box. The scent of pure deliciousness filled the air. Sweet and cinnamon spicy, it was a welcome relief from the weird cauldron odors.

Ginger: I baked these for everyone. They are miniature cinnamon trolls.

She handed one to Mr. Badwolf. White icing dripped off the troll-shaped pastry.

He wolfed it down in one bite, then smacked his lips.

Mr. Badwolf: Even though it contains no raw meat, it was delicious.

Ginger smiled proudly.

Mr. Badwolf: However, delicious is not evil.

Mr. Badwolf wrote on the clipboard.

Mr. Badwolf: I am very disappointed in you, Ms. Breadhouse. Next time you bring treats for the class, I suggest that they be poisonous. You get a DG for the first day.

Dutchess: What’s a DG?

They didn’t have that grade in other classes.

Mr. Badwolf: DG stands for ‘do-gooder.’ DG is the worst grade you can get in General Villainy. Some would argue that it is even worse than a fairy-fail grade.

He grabbed another troll.

With a confused look on her face, Ginger returned to her stool.

Mr. Badwolf: Next up we have Lizzie Hearts.

Lizzie: Here!

Lizzie had been feeding Shuffle a piece of cinnamon troll.

Mr. Badwolf: Ms. Hearts was chosen because she is the daughter of the notorious Queen of Hearts. I have great hexpectations for her, but I have heard a rumor that she’s been trying to control her temper. Is this true, Ms. Hearts?

Lizzie: Yes.

Mr. Badwolf raised his bushy eyebrows.

Lizzie: I mean, no!

She jumped from her stool.

Lizzie: I would never try to control my temper. Someone is spreading fables and that makes me feel very, very angry!

She kicked over her stool. Her face turned as red as her shoes.

It was a brilliant tantrum, but Duchess knew the truth. Lizzie wanted to be an angry queen as much as Duchess wanted to be a permanent swan.

You also knew this was a fib. You were the one helping her keep her temper in check. What grade would that get you?

Mr. Badwolf: Most hexcellent.

Mr. Badwolf wrote on the clipboard.

Lizzie grabbed the stool, uprighted it, and sat back down. As she dabbed sweat from her upper lip, she gave Duchess a questioning look. She’d played her role, but what would Duchess do? She then looked at you. How were you about to play the part?

Mr. Badwolf: Next up is Sparrow Hood.

Sparrow sat slouched on his stool, a guitar leaning against his leg. He was dressed in mossy, forest colors. His studded vest matched his studded boots. His chestnut hair hung over his eyes, which were closed.

Y/N: Sparrow?

Lizzie nudged him. He bolted upright.

Sparrow: Dude, I was trying to sleep.

Mr. Badwolf tapped his long nails on the desk.

Mr. Badwolf: Mr. Hood, villains do not sleep. Villains disrupt the sleep of others. Keep that in mind.

Sparrow yawned, then scratched his soul patch. You hated that think.

Sparrow: Haven’t you heard of chillin’ like a villain? I was up all night practicing my riffs.

Sparrow was the lead singer and guitarist in a band called the Merry Men.

Mr. Badwolf growled.

Mr. Badwolf: Your riffs will not earn you an A in this class, Mr. Hood.

Sparrow: Total bummer. Well, maybe I don’t want to earn an A. Why am I here, anyway? My old man wasn’t evil.

Mr. Badwolf: You are here because your father, Robin Hood, was a notorious thief. Thievery is an excellent trait in a villain. And there are times when you appear to have the appropriate attitude. But because your father used his thievery for good, there was great debate among the faculty whether you should be in this class. You have much to prove, Mr. Hood.

Sparrow: Proving stuff sounds like way too much work. My guitar and I have better things to do.

Then he lowered his hat so the brim shaded his eyes. Was he going to nod off again?

Duchess squirmed. This class seemed a waste of time. And the roll call had been a total disaster. So far, only one student actually wanted to be a villain. Sparrow didn’t even care what grade he got. How could he not care about something as important as that?

Mr. Badwolf: Our next student needs no introduction.

He looked straight at a girl who sat in the corner, hidden in the shadows. The room went silent. Even the cauldrons stopped bubbling. The girl slowly stood, then stepped into the light. She was tall and imposing, with ebony hair that cascaded down her back. Her purple skirt matched the purple highlights in her hair and was covered in a filigree lacework. Her eyes were as dark as a raven’s, hence, her name.

Y/N: Hey, Raven.

You waved with a smile, happy to see your friend. Raven smiled back.

Raven: Hi.

She then frowned.

Raven: Well, I’m sure we all know why I’m in this class.

Raven Queen was the daughter of the infamous sorceress the Evil Queen, who’d tormented royals from one kingdom to the next, including Snow White. Raven’s mother was so evil that she went beyond her own story and invaded Wonderland, infecting its madness. And that was the reason why Lizzie hadn’t been home in a very long time.

Faybelle: Raven shouldn’t be in this class!

She’d taken the words right out of Duchess’s mouth.

Faybelle: She’s doesn’t have the right to be a villain anymore.

Raven didn’t defend herself. She stood with her shoulders slouched, as if she carried the burden of her family legacy on her back.

Raven: I guess there’s no use in asking for a transfer.

Dutchess: If she gets a transfer, then I should get one, too!

Y/N: I would also like to have one, please.

Mr. Badwolf: There will be no transfers!

Y/N: Okay.

Mr. Badwolf: Despite Ms. Queen’s recent decision to lead a rebellious uprising.....

Raven: Hey, I’m not leading an uprising. I’m not telling other people what to do. If they choose to question their destinies, then that’s their decision.

Duchess sneered again. Maybe Raven wasn’t giving speeches about rebelling, but she was leading by example. And actions were more powerful than words.

The fur on the back of Mr. Badwolf’s neck bristled.

Mr. Badwolf: Don’t huff and puff at me. The facts are indisputable. You carry more evil in your bloodline than the rest of the students combined. The faculty and the headmaster are hopeful that you will change your mind and embrace your destiny.

He pointed to a large wooden sign that hung on the wall. You all turned to read it, save for the sleeping Sparrow.

THOU SHALL NOT STRAY FROM THY STORY.

After a long, heavy sigh, Raven slid back into the shadows.

Mr. Badwolf picked up the clipboard and read.

Mr. Badwolf: The next student on the list is Duchess Swan.

Upon hearing her name, Duchess jumped to her feet, ready to charge to the front of the class and plead her case.

This is a huge mistake.

I don’t have an evil bloodline.

I’m not villain material. I’m a ballerina!

But Mr. Badwolf did not invite her to introduce herself. Nor did he offer an explanation as to why she was there.

Mr. Badwolf: Sit down, Ms. Swan.

What the hex? Everyone else got the opportunity to speak.

Dutchess: But....

A low growl rumbled in Mr. Badwolf’s throat. His eyes flashed. Duchess sat. The morning was not going as she’d planned. And one student had already earned hextra credit. She had nothing but frustration and questions.

Mr. Badwolf: And lastly, Y/N Ozymandias.

Everyone looked at you. You just shrugged.

Y/N: I have no idea why I'm where.

Mr. Badwolf: The answer to that is quite simple. I requested it.

You sat up.

Y/N: The hex, sir? I'm not evil. And neither was my father.

Mr. Badwolf: I'm aware that your father was not evil. And I have no doubt that you yourself have no evil inside of you. But you had a free hour and I decided that I could use another male in my class.

You didn't believe that for a second. He knew something. He also knew that you didn't believe a single word he just said.

Mr. Badwolf proceeded to hand each student a thick hextbook, A Guide to General Villainy. Then he wheeled a chalkboard to the front of the class and, with a piece of white chalk, began to draw. You and the other students watched in silence, except for Sparrow, who’d started snoring. Lizzie prodded him with her scepter. He woke up and yawned.

Mr. Badwolf: Can anyone tell me what this is?

He’d drawn a triangle. Inside the triangle was a stick figure with a curly tail.

No one answered. Faybelle shrugged. Ginger licked frosting from her fingers. Duchess fumed. You just spoke.

Y/N: A pig in a house?

Mr. Badwolf smiled.

Mr. Badwolf: Very good, Y/N. And hextra points for not raising your hand.

Sparrow: Good thing you’re not teaching Arts and Crafts.

Faybelle: I like your drawing, Mr. Badwolf. It looks exactly like a pig.

She waved her pom-poms.

Faybelle: Give me a P. Give me...

Mr. Badwolf: Not now, Ms. Thorn.

Mr. Badwolf pressed his long, furry fingertips together.

Mr. Badwolf: The question I pose to you, students, the future creators of chaos, is this: What would you do if you wanted to eat this little pig but it was hiding in its house made of straw?

Faybelle’s hand shot up.

Mr. Badwolf: Yes, Ms. Thorn?

Faybelle: I would order takeout.

Mr. Badwolf scowled at her.

Mr. Badwolf: That is not the correct answer.

He turned to the next student.

Mr. Badwolf: Ginger, I pose the question to you. If you wanted to eat the pig, how would you get it to come out of its house?

Ginger: I don’t eat pigs. I know a few, and they’re very nice.

Mr. Badwolf: Incorrect. Mr. Hood?

Sparrow: Dude, it doesn’t matter to me. Get the pig, don’t get the pig. I really don’t care. Unless you want me to write a song about it.

A little white cloud burst from Mr. Badwolf’s hand as he crushed the piece of chalk.

Mr. Badwolf: That. Is. Incorrect!

His upper lip rose, exposing his sharp teeth.

Mr. Badwolf: Ms. Hearts? Surely you know the answer!

Wheezy, deep breathing was coming from Lizzie’s book bag. Her hedgehog had eaten so much cinnamon troll she’d fallen into a sugar stupor.

Lizzie: I’d knock on the door and ask to come in.

Mr. Badwolf growled in a most displeasing way. Lizzie grabbed her scepter and jumped to her feet.

Lizzie: I meant to say that I’d pound on the door, real hard, and yell as loud as I could, ‘In the name of the queen, I command you to come out of that house or you shall lose your piggy head!’

Then she sat back down.

Lizzie: But I wouldn’t really chop off its head. I agree with Ginger. Pigs are nice.

Mr. Badwolf looked as if he might explode. If he’d been a teapot, steam would have shot out of his ears.

Mr. Badwolf: That is the worst answer I’ve ever heard!

He stomped both of his feet, which were rather large. The chalkboard trembled.

Lizzie: Wow. He’s better at temper tantrums than I am.

Mr. Badwolf whipped around and faced Duchess.

Mr. Badwolf: Ms. Swan, what is your answer?

Duchess didn’t care that Mr. Badwolf was practically foaming at the mouth. He’d had his rabies shot, after all. What she cared about was getting transferred from this class.

Dutchess: I don’t think I should answer that question. I’m not a villain, and...

Mr. Badwolf: Wrong, wrong, wrong!

Mr. Badwolf ended the sentence with a howl.

Duchess sighed. This was a total waste of time. She could be practicing her arabesque at the dance studio, or writing her deepest thoughts in her diary.

Mr. Badwolf smoothed his hair and took a long, deep breath, composing himself. Then, his voice steady and calm, he looked toward the dark corner.

Mr. Badwolf: Surely you know the answer, Ms. Queen?

Raven fidgeted on her stool. She sighed, then hung her head.

Raven: The answer you’re looking for is to huff and puff and blow the house down.

Mr. Badwolf: Yes! Yes, indeed. Finally, a correct response.

Duchess was immediately alarmed. Was Raven trying to get a good grade in this class? Maybe the best grade in the class?

Duchess’s hand shot up.

Dutchess: I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to answer the question.

She slid off her stool. As she smoothed her white embroidered skirt, her thoughts spun like a dancer who’d lost control. What do I say? What’s better than huffing and puffing? She cleared her throat.

Dutchess: I would… I would…

Her legs went a little weak as she realized she had no answer. Mr. Badwolf stared at her, waiting.

Raven broke the silence.

Raven: I’ve also changed my mind. The pig worked hard building his house. Hard work should be rewarded, not destroyed. I would let him live in peace.

Mr. Badwolf sank onto the edge of his desk, his head shaking with frustration.

Mr. Badwolf: You are the worst group of future evildoers in the history of this school. You will all bring shame to yourselves, to your families, and to fairytales everywhere.

Shame to my family? Duchess practically wilted.

Finally, Mr. Badwolf turned to you.

Mr. Badwolf: Mr. Ozymandias, please, share with us what you would do.

You just chuckled.

Y/N: I wouldn't even bother knocking. I would just set the place on fire if it was straw or wood. And if it's brick, I would wait. I would stalk outside, just outside of view. Leaving clues that I'm still there. Play with their minds, you know? Then I would slowly move closer and closer, taking my time while slowly making the three even more paranoid. I would watch through the windows as they coward in fear. I would let them hear me outside, just on the other side of their wall. They think it'll keep them safe, but they're wrong. So very wrong. When the time is right, I would break into the house and then I'll.....

You suddenly stopped when you realized how dead quiet the room had become. You looked around to see everyone staring at you with fear in their eyes and horror in their faces. You then looked back to Mr. Badwolf to see that even he was frightened by your answer.

You cleared your throat and went back to slouching on your stool.

Y/N: I mean, yeah. I would, uh, mentally torment them.

You scratched your arm before you nervously looked around the room.

Mr. Badwolf cleared his throat after a moment before he returned his attention to the class.

Mr. Badwolf: I hope it is not too late to save you from your goodness.

He walked over to the chalkboard, grabbed a new piece of chalk, and wrote:
Thronework assignment:

Do something rotten and nasty by the end of the school day Friday.

Faybelle: Yay!

Faybelle cheered as she rustled her pom-poms. Everyone else groaned.

Mr. Badwolf: The one student who does the rottenest and nastiest thing by the end of school Friday will get an A for the week. The rest of you will get an FF.

FF stood for “fairy-fail.”

Mr. Badwolf: To make it more exciting, the student who earns the A will have the opportunity to pick a prize from my own personal treasure vault.

He crossed the room, and, after whispering a secret password, a section of the stone wall slid open. Gold and silver light filled the cauldron room.

Suddenly interested in the proceedings, Sparrow Hood leaped from his stool and ran to look inside the vault, his fingers twitching as he gazed upon the piles of gems and jewels.

Ginger: Is that a silver muffin pan?

Faybelle pointed to a golden megaphone.

Faybelle: I’d love to cheer with that.

Lizzie liked the heart-shaped pendant, while a golden quill caught Duchess’s eye. Your eyes landed on something else that seemed dull compared to the rest of the treasure.

Sparrow: Look at all that loot! One of those golden arrows could buy some sound equipment and a new set of drums for the band.

Mr. Badwolf plunged his hand into a chest of gold coins.

Mr. Badwolf: Practice your thieving skills, Mr. Sparrow, and one day you will possess your own treasure vault.

Raven was the only student still sitting on a stool.

Raven: I don’t care about treasure.

Faybelle: Of course she doesn’t.

Faybelle whispered to Lizzie.

Faybelle: Her mother’s the richest woman in the world.

Having overheard Faybelle’s comment, Duchess narrowed her eyes. Raven Queen did seem to have everything, and all she did was complain about it.

The school bell rang, indicating that class was over. The students grabbed their book bags. Sparrow grabbed his guitar.

Mr. Badwolf: Look to your family stories for inspiration.

Mr. Badwolf called as the students headed for the exit.

Mr. Badwolf: And remember, only one of you can earn an A for the week.

Failure was not an option for Duchess Swan. If she couldn’t get transferred, then she’d have to do her best. And her best meant perfection.

However, once everyone was gone, you remained. Mr. Badwolf expected this. You got up from your stool and walked over to him, many questions to ask.

Y/N: Big....

Mr. Badwolf: When we are at school, please call me Mr. Badwolf. I don’t want people knowing that you may know something regarding my daughter.

Right.

Y/N: Sorry. Mr. Badwolf, I have a lot of questions.

Mr. Badwolf nodded.

Mr. Badwolf: And I can answer them all.

Mr. Badwolf reached into his treasure loot and pulled out the item that caught your eye. A silver necklace with a green stone in the center. It was dull and needed to be clean. It had some slight rust along the side.

Mr. Badwolf: You want this. And that is why I wanted you in my class.

You stared at the necklace. You found yourself reaching for it, but Mr. Badwolf tossed it back into the loot and locked it away.

Y/N: How do you have that?

Mr. Badwolf: Vengeance is a wicked thing.

You looked back to the teacher.

Y/N: What?

Mr. Badwolf: I know why you're really here. I know it's been a long time coming.

Y/N: Then you know why I need that necklace.

Mr. Badwolf nodded. He then sighed.

Mr. Badwolf: Look, kid, I like you. You've proven yourself to be a good person. A reliable friend to my daughter and the other students. They like you. And they trust you.

So? What did this have to do with anything?

Mr. Badwolf: But I know that look in your eye. One of vengeance. The fires of hate and anger. The darkness of fear and uncertainty. I've seen what something like that can do to good men.

He stood up and placed his clipboard down.

Mr. Badwolf: If you're truly willing to give up everything for a mere shadow of what was, then you need to be ready to lose everything you now love. That is why I requested you to this class.

You were honestly surpised by all of this. But, he sounded like he spoke from experience. Like he had been here before. Like he was close to someone like you.

Mr. Badwolf: So, Y/N, are you willing to loose everything for your revenge?

You stood there with no words. After a moment, you looked up. A green flicker in your eyes.

The End Is Just The Beginning.....