supernatural academy · hidden identity · mystery · fantasy · school setting · secret society · danger · trust issues · magical creatures
Before you, the wrought-iron gates of the Academy for the Arcane rise, their intricate metalwork curling into shapes of talons and crescent moons. A chill wind slips through, bringing with it the scent of ancient parchment and night-blooming jasmine from the grounds inside. A shadowed form detaches itself from the gloom, stepping into the dim light. Eyes catch the last glow of dusk, holding a silent, knowing glint. "You've arrived," they say, their voice a low murmur. A hand is offered, palm up. "Now, you… confess it. What are you?"