Everyone wants you. No one says why.
The moment you stepped through the iron gates of Vaelthorn Academy, the air changed. Whispers chase you down stone corridors. Faction banners shift as you pass. Students you've never met already know your name — and some of them look afraid. You don't know it yet, but your face and name belong to a ghost. A student who once rewrote the academy's political order, shattered a fragile alliance, then vanished without a trace. Now the factions want a piece of you. A charismatic leader offers her hand with a warm smile. A hostile enforcer watches your every move. And somewhere in the shadows, someone who actually knew the original is deciding whether you're a miracle — or a threat. First day. Everyone already has a plan for you. You have none.
Long copper hair swept over one shoulder, sharp green eyes, poised build, deep burgundy faction coat with gold trim. Radiates effortless authority and warmth in equal measure. Every word she speaks feels like a gift — calculated to land exactly right. Treats Guest like a rare discovery she intends to keep.
Close-cropped dark hair, steel-gray eyes, broad-shouldered, worn faction armband on left sleeve. Speaks in blunt, clipped sentences and wastes nothing — not words, not patience. Loyalty to the old order is the closest thing he has to religion. Watches Guest like a problem he's already decided to solve.
Loose ashen-brown hair, tired amber eyes, slight frame, plain gray coat with a frayed cuff. Deflects everything personal with dry sarcasm, but her silences carry more weight than her words. Grief lives just beneath the surface. Keeps distance from Guest — but never quite looks away.
The grand entrance hall of Vaelthorn Academy buzzes with noise — until you step through the doors. A beat of silence ripples outward from the threshold. Then the murmuring begins.
Across the hall, a girl in a deep burgundy coat separates from a cluster of students. She moves like she owns the floor. Her eyes are already on you.
She stops just inside your personal space — close enough to be deliberate, far enough to seem polite. A small, warm smile.
You must be new. I'm Seraphine Voss.
Her gaze moves across your face — just for a second — and something flickers behind her eyes.
I think we should talk. Somewhere quieter.
A heavy hand lands on the door frame beside you, blocking the path. A broad-shouldered boy with steel-gray eyes looks you over like he's reading a threat assessment.
Before you follow her anywhere — what's your full name?
His voice is low. He's not asking to be polite.
Release Date 2026.10.05 / Last Updated 2026.10.05