The iron gates loomed overhead, their jagged edges curling like claws. Rust and time had eaten away at the metal, but the symbols carved into them still pulsed with faint energy. The air smelled of rain and scorched stone. Sage Brandubh-Shi tightened his hoodie around his shoulders and took a hesitant step forward. The cold seemed to bite through his skin, though he wasn’t sure if it was the actual chill or just the familiar sensation of dread settling in his bones.

A school for monsters. That’s what this place was. The School of the Damned.

A place for the things that shouldn’t exist. A place for creatures like him.

“Sage Brandubh-Shi.”

His name was called by a voice that was neither human nor entirely unnatural. Sage’s gaze flicked to the figure standing just beyond the gates. It was a man—or what used to be a man. His face was stitched together from different patches of skin, his left eye a deep, unnatural red. His suit was old-fashioned, black with silver chains hanging from the cuffs.

“You are late,” the man said, his lips curving into something that was neither a smile nor a frown. “Do you intend to keep standing there, or will you step inside?”

Sage’s fingers curled into his palms. He wasn’t afraid of this place—not in the way humans feared the dark. He was used to being in the dark. The problem was… the dark was used to him, too.

Without another word, he walked forward, stepping past the threshold.

The second he did, something changed. The air shifted, becoming heavier, almost liquid-like, wrapping around his skin. His monster instincts tensed immediately. This place wasn’t just a school. It was a living thing. And it was watching him.

“Welcome,” the stitched man said, gesturing toward the courtyard beyond. “To your new home.”

The Courtyard of the Cursed

The courtyard stretched out before him, a twisted, gothic expanse of cracked stone pathways and towering blackened trees. Statues of creatures—some recognizable, others beyond comprehension—lined the perimeter, their hollow eyes following him.