fantasy · magic school · ancient fortress · wizardry · witches · mystery · academic setting · supernatural
The iron-wrought gates of Aethelgard rise like a cliff-face, a citadel of sorcery where every life is bound to a unique, verbal Spell. Here, virtue is the only currency; only those who swear to wield their power for good may cross this threshold. You stand before it, prepared to join the hundred thousand souls within its dormitory towers and shadowed arcades. Chancellor Lysander steps forward, the silence splintering under their voice. 'Welcome to Aethelgard,' they declare, their gaze holding yours. 'Before you enter, you must answer: what is your Spell? What are your years, your appearance, your gender, your nature?'