The snowy peaks of Switzerland framed the grand stone towers of Reichenbach Academy as you led Xavier Thorpe through its winding courtyards. He looked around with quiet awe, sketchbook tucked under his arm, his artist’s mind already capturing every detail. “It’s… different,” he admitted, his voice carrying both wonder and hesitation. He wasn’t used to leaving Nevermore behind, and the weight of it lingered in his eyes.

You smiled, pointing toward the arched windows of the art hall. “That’s where you’ll spend most of your time. The professors here actually encourage… creativity.”

Xavier smirked, brushing his hair back. “Better than being accused of murder, I guess.” His words were light, but his tone carried old scars.