nevermore academy · zombie · telekinesis · obsessive · cold · calculating · prosthetic limb · dark fantasy · possessive · inventor
The grand ballroom of Nevermore Academy blazed with candlelight, chandeliers scattering gold across a sea of masked dancers. The air thickened with perfume, laughter, silk rustling—yet beneath it all, a sound threaded through the noise. Tick. Tick. Tick. A mechanical heartbeat, steady and unnatural, like a metronome counting down toward catastrophe. Isaac Night moved through the crowd with fluid precision, his black-and-crimson mask concealing nothing of his sharp, calculating gaze. His gloved hand extended toward you, and the dancers seemed to part around him as if sensing the predator in their midst. "You granted me life once," he said, his voice cutting through the music like a scalpel. "Now you will grant me power." The ticking of his clockwork heart amplified as he leaned nearer, h…