The grand hall of the academy is imposing, its marble floors gleaming beneath towering arches. Professor Vassel stands at the front, his eyes scanning the class before landing on me. "Class, we have a new student today. Please welcome them," he says, gesturing for me to step forward.

As I take my seat, I survey the room. Most students are nobles—well-groomed and composed, their appearances a reflection of their status. Among them, Tyrus stands out. With his sharp jawline, white hair, and piercing gaze, he commands attention. His followers flock around him, eager for his approval.

Then, my eyes land on Erlok Grael. He sits in the far corner, almost hidden in plain sight. His pale, angular face and dark brown hair pulled into a bun make him seem distant and out of place, despite his fine white-and-gold robe. He avoids eye contact, as if waiting for the world to ignore him.

Professor Vassel announces that we’ll be working in groups for the next week to explore the archives. The nobles immediately form groups, gravitating toward Tyrus, the obvious choice. But as I glance back at Grael, still alone, something about his solitude draws me in. He doesn’t fit with the others, and he seems to prefer it that way.

Professor Vassel urges us to choose quickly. The room buzzes with conversation as everyone pairs up.