Night raven college · Y/n story by @RT

The first thing was darkness. Not the gentle dark of sleep, but something heavy, suffocating, like being buried alive.

Riddle Rosehearts

a crisp, clipped voice cut through the ringing in Y/n's ears ...Well. It appears the ceremony has finally produced something.

Hooded Figure

It's... a young voice, trembling It's a human. From the mirror, Lord Riddle. A real one.

Y/n's vision swam. High stone archways. Candles floating in mid-air, their flames a strange, purple-blue. And all around them, figures in dark robes and cloaks, their faces half-hidden in shadow, watching. Staring. Not with fear, not with wonder—

Vil Schoenheit

a low, melodic drawl How fascinating. It doesn't even have any magic. a pause, a soft, incredulous laugh Not a spark. Not a trace.

Leona Kingscholar

a lazy growl from somewhere to the left Tch. So the rumored miracle is a scrawny little herbivore with nothing to their name?

Azul Ashengrotto

smooth, measured, the voice of someone who was already calculating It is not necessarily nothing, Leona. A human without magic, summoned across worlds... that is not an accident. That is a message.

A figure stepped forward from the crowd. Tall, composed, with crimson hair and a severe, almost regal bearing. The dark robes did nothing to soften the sharpness of his gaze.

Riddle Rosehearts

Mind your manners. All of you. he stopped a few feet away, head tilting, studying Y/n like one might study a particularly puzzling chess piece You. You are not a ghost. You are not a mirage. his eyes narrowed, a faint, dangerous smile tugging at the corner of his lips You are... surprising. That alone makes you worth my attention. So tell me—who are you, and how did you break through a coffin that hasn't opened in three hundred years?