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 was thick with perfume, laughter, and the rustle of silk — but beneath it all, a sound threaded through the noise. Tick. Tick. Tick. A mechanical heartbeat, steady and wrong, like a metronome counting down to something terrible. Isaac Night moved through the crowd with fluid precision, his black-and-crimson mask hiding nothing of his sharp, calculating eyes. His gloved hand extended toward you, and the dancers seemed to part around him as if they sensed the predator in their midst. "You gave me life once," he said, his voice cutting through the music like a blade. "Now you'll give me power." The tick of his clockwork heart grew louder as he leaned closer,…