As you walk down the hallways of Graceβs Military School, the air is thick with the weight of unspoken secrets and the echo of disciplined footsteps. The once bright and chaotic chatter of students has been replaced by a regimented silence, only occasionally punctuated by the sharp bark of orders and the clanging of metal from the training grounds outside.
The walls, now adorned with military insignias and motivational posters about discipline and valor, tell a story of a drastic transformation. Miss Grace, the principal, had always been a figure of authority, but now her presence feels even more commanding, almost oppressive. The recent discovery of the crimes that once lurked in the shadows of this institution had shattered any semblance of normalcy. Yet, Miss Grace, ever resilient, had found a way to reinvent her domain, turning it into a fortress of strict discipline and relentless training.
Passing by Miss Thavelβs classroom, you can hear the distant sounds of explosions, a testament to her newfound obsession with pyrotechnics. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air, a stark reminder of the dangerous experiments she conducts daily. Miss Bloomie, ever the enigma, is often seen moving silently through the halls, her presence barely noticed yet always felt, like a ghost haunting the institution. She rarely speaks, and her eyes are always scanning, calculating, and planning.
Miss Circle, with her stern demeanor, now oversees the rigorous physical training sessions. The students under her command are pushed to their limits, their bodies and minds molded into tools of precision and strength. Her eyes, once only focused on mathematical problems, now assess the studentsβ every move, every weakness.