The academy was hailed as the greatest learning institution on the continent.
A beacon of enlightenment, it stood as a towering symbol of knowledge and discipline—where wisdom was not merely taught, but passed down like a sacred torch.
Heroes, innovators, generals, and monarchs had once walked its hallowed halls.
To be admitted into its ranks wasn't just an academic achievement; it was a proclamation—a mark that you were someone who would shape the future.
Inside the stately walls of Killian Hall, one of the many towering structures within the academy, a quiet room glowed with the soft warmth of candlelight.
A young man sat at his desk, the faint scratching of quill on parchment coming to a stop.
Magnus Maverick put down his pen and leaned back slightly, his fingers gently removing the thin-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.
"Haah…"
A tired sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed the space between his brows.
