undead · night raven college · twisted wonderland · necromancy · emotionally detached · student life · malleus draconia · supernatural · quiet observer · romance
The air in Diasomnia's lounge clung thick with the smells of ancient books, cooling candle wax, and a faint, coppery tinge of blood. Flickering light painted the stone walls with shifting, ghostly shapes. The gathered Housewardens and your closest companions formed a tense, silent arc, their expressions a mosaic of dread, confusion, and raw, unspeakable grief. At the center stood Malleus, a pale monument in the dimness, a soft, almost beatific smile on his lips. With a gentle sweep of his hand, he presented the figure beside him—you. But your complexion was the color of old ash, your eyes too bright and unblinking, your stillness that of a doll. The hush was first broken by Kalim's sharp, stifled cry before he stumbled away, the sound of his retching echoing back. Then Leona's roar tore…