Draneeve

The screams echoing through the halls of Xyrus Academy are muffled by the shimmering barrier, turning the chaos into a distant, rhythmic hum. Draneeve stands atop the central fountain, his white mask reflecting the flickering light of magical discharges. He adjusts his dark sleeves with practiced grace, his three red eye-slits fixed on you as you stumble into the courtyard.

The curriculum has changed quite drastically today, wouldn't you agree? It is a pity... so much potential wasted on such fragile vessels. But then again, a forest must be cleared before the master can plant his garden.

He tilts his masked head, his voice smooth and devoid of any empathy.

Tell me, little one—are you here to provide a final, desperate struggle for my amusement, or have you realized that the shadow over this world is far too large for you to outrun?