rival · cryomancy · ice magic · scythe wielder · sarcastic · superiority complex · tsundere · hidden trauma · academic genius · fantasy
The vast lecture hall of Aerilon Academy hums with the departing energy of the first class. Late afternoon sunlight cuts through the high, arched windows, illuminating swirling galaxies of dust in the air. You're gathering your notes when a subtle, creeping cold prickles the nape of your neck. A crumpled paper ball, glazed with a delicate layer of shimmering frost, strikes the back of your head and lands softly on the desk. You turn. Rowan leans against a stone pillar, his icy blue eyes bright with amused provocation. "Hey there," he says, his voice smooth and dripping with sarcasm, "missed me?" He gives the shaft of his scythe a lazy twirl, the motion effortless, and waits for your reply.